Name: Baden Carshyen-O'Cuinn

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Nationality; Native American, Irish, French

Preference: He is a big flirt, so it stands to reason that he is bi-curious.

Alignment; Good

Powers; His father told him once that for centuries the men of his bloodline could communicate with the spirit world, or walk with animals. But as he never took his father's old stories to heart, he has no idea what kind of powers he may have.

Weapons; As attributed by his gun shot wounds, he often carries a gun around on either the inside of his calf under his jeans, or tucked into the back of his jeans for a quick draw. Sometimes he carries more than one and uses both holding spots. Like noted, he does not like to be startled. This stems from the many times he has been startled by a sudden wound exploding through his body.
So, when he can, he shoots the painted-dull-black firearms. Over years of practice he is as a matter of fact a crack shot.

Appearance/Basics:
Hair: Wavy blonde-black hair that hangs down his back to fall just even with his elbows. Around his temples his hair has grayed, but he often mixes these strands with his bangs to lessen the amount shown.
Eyes: Almond-shaped pale green eyes with a ring of ice blue circling the irises. Pupils are often small, revealing more of the iris, but they do adjust just fine to the changing light.
Feathery lashes are long and curled in a off-feminine manner, naturally black like his arched brows, ultimately making his iffy eyes pop. Because of this he has gotten the nickname of 'Bright Eyes' from his mates. It makes him grimace.
Skin; Being an equal split between his white and Indian blood, Baden has light tan skin. But from his days spent outside he has darkened a shade, making him a mild tan much like his Indian father.
Scars riddle his body so his flesh is certainly not perfect to the touch, but most are faint enough not to be noticed from afar. Starting from his right shoulder and angling down under his neck is the worst of his scars, as if someone had tried to decapitate him but was too incompetent to do the job right. A few bullet scars go down his right hip, along his left shoulder, and through his thighs. Honestly, it is a miracle he has lived so long judging from his scars.
Baden's flesh is weather worn, so there are some places on his arms and face that look a little rough, but along with his few facial wrinkles he thinks he looks pretty damned distinguished.
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 192 lbs.
Birthdate: June 27th
Birthplace: Carlingford, Ireland
Bloodtype: AB-
Piercings/Jewelry: A dydoe piercing from his youth, left ear has two silver hoops, an old wedding ring he wears around his neck on a chain, a steel band around his left bicep, and a matching steel cuff around his left wrist.
Tattoo(s); A Celtic Knot Shield just on his right shoulder blade.
Style: He's not too fussy about what he wears--more often than not he is half naked anyways. Whatever he has on hand he will throw on. Though he is strictly a Levi's man. He will wear dress pants if he needs to or in an attempt to look nice, but he always brings a pair of Levi pants with him so he can change immediately after any such event.
Likes: The ruins of his hometown; The outdoors; Aiding his mates; Reading; People that can hold their own against his playful barbs, and more importantly return them; House pets that have a wild streak in them; Manual labor; Seeing his mates genuinely pleased; Sparring/wrestling; Gatherings; Cooking; Riding bareback; Having people able to trust him; Being able to rely on people on days when his hip is acting up; Sleeping outdoors beneath the stars.
Dislikes: Having to rely on anybody; When his hip joint grinds together against the bullet still in his body; The scent of spoiled dairy products; Serious math; Having any of his senses cut off or dimmed; Piercing noises such as metal grinding on metal; Being insulted even if he does not show it bugs him; Being confined in a house at night; Doing laundry; Getting startled; Bondage.

Relations:
Mother: Clarissa O'Cuinn
Father: Mateo Carshyen
Siblings: Maryanne O'Cuinn
Children: Mathew O'Cuinn; Goes by Matt
Lover: Currently, Lance.
Soul-Twin: N/A

Roleplays Used In:
The Warriors Of Isilda

Personality:
Despite his serious size, muscle mass, and scars, he is actually a very patient and understanding type man. Whether this be the work of raising his son while getting through the loss of his wife, or just his many years of life experience, he does not know. As a child he was nothing less than a tyrant, wreaking havoc in his small house while he left his parents to clean up his messes. As a teenager he only got worse, but instead of the house it was the town that suffered. And instead of paint or a vacuum to clean up what he broke, it was money and persuasion on his parents' parts to either get him out of jail or apologize to their neighbors. When his mother left Mateo, complaining that she could not take it anymore, Baden got worse. He took out his anger on his father. One day it went too far for Mateo. Instead of submitting to his son's anger like he normally would, he grabbed Baden by the scruff of his neck, dragged him to the garage where there was a homemade gym, and beat the shit out of him.
He was sore for a few weeks after the initial match, but he got over it soon enough. From then on he just took whatever life threw at him with surprising grace. Need he fight, he fought. Need he pony up a bit of cash, he ponied up. When his girlfriend got pregnant when he was 19, he soldiered through it.
He's a good sport about things, but like his father he can reach his breaking point and suddenly rain hell on the person that pushed him that final step. Also like his father he would not rub said person's face in the fact that they just got the shit beat out of them because of their arrogance, but instead would never mention it again.
He finds peace outdoors. It is the one place where he can just imagine smelling the aroma of the Lough, even though it is across the ocean. It takes him home.

History:
An early birth, three months to be exact, he was not the healthiest of babies. Hooked up to machines and poked and prodded with needles for the first couple months of his life, even the doctors admitted that with his under developed lungs it was a miracle he survived. He was taken home when he was five months old, after his lungs finished developing. He vaguely remembers the sound of his mother's favorite tune vibrating through his room, up the legs of his crib, and through his body, soothing him to sleep.
At such a young age most people would not remember even saying their first word, but Baden remembered the vibrating tunes. He could not sleep without them going through his body. If his mother tried to pull a fast one on him by putting a different song on he would stay awake as his muscles and tiny joints would not vibrate the same way. In fact, any other song made him down right cranky.
As he grew he became more cranky. Bitter even. His mother stopped playing the song all together, tiring of the tune after a year of repeatedly going to sleep to it. As she refused him his comfort he lashed out.He became miserable to live with, a spoiled brat in every sense of the word. He would snarl at his friends, rebel against his parents' insistent orders and reprimands, throw his food against the wall if he was told to finish it, blatantly ignore his parents' threats and stay out for nights on end. In his first ten years of life he had caused more damage on the house and his parents' relationship than even five rebellious two-year-old kids. As a teen he was not much better.
Influenced by his friends from school and around the neighborhood, though it took little persuasion, he became a petty criminal. At first it was just shop-lifting. Then it was vandalism. Soon after, robbery. By age seventeen he had seen the inside of the police station thirty-two times. A juvenile detention center fifteen times. Prison once. After getting out of prison he came home to a house with little more than his and his father's belongings in it. He learned from his father that his mother had divorced him because she was tired of her life or lack there of.
It was a crippling blow to him. Guilt assaulted him from everywhere. If he had not been such a little ass maybe his mother would have stayed. If he had not caused her so much trouble she would have stayed. If he had listened to her like a son should listen to his mother she would have stayed. A thousand 'Ifs' ran through his mind, but he could not bring himself to voice any of them. Instead he took his anger and grief out on his father. The man, for all of his own anger, took Baden's in stride. He never reprimanded him because he knew that he was only lashing out like a wounded animal would.
The house was filled with tension for almost a year before he finally said something that made his father's blood boil. 'You shame me. If not fer yer filthy blood I would na' be such an oddity amongst me friends. Mum must've felt the same. She left ye after all.' He was dragged out to the garage by the scruff of his neck like he were no more than a filthy bag of garbage meaning to be taken out.
His father wrapped his hands and ordered Baden to do the same. Being an arrogant little prick he did just that, not giving any thought that his father would actually hit him. Besides, surely he had taken worse abuse in prison than what his da could deliver.
Boy was he wrong. For an old man he moved faster than Baden, weaving away from wild jabs, taking them in the stomach with a flex to save energy. And if Baden had any illusions about his father not hitting him he was also wrong. He remembered taking at least five strikes to the chest, countless to the shoulders and arms, and three to the face before he had black out. When he came to it was to lying in the bathtub with his father rubbing blood from his swollen lip and removing bits of glass from his cheek and shoulder. He must've fallen onto some type of glass when he passed out. His father never told him what exactly, though. After he bathed he went downstairs to get his ribs wrapped by his father after having experienced pain going through his side. A fracture or a break, he didn't know. But it was not worth going to the hospital for. Bruises riddled his arms, chest, and face for a week or so after their fight, and everyday he saw his father he noticed he would flinch faintly even though he smiled at him. Every flinch would make Baden feel guilty. It was enough to make him reign in his anger towards his father. As soon as the anger and bruises left, the tension of the house diminished until there was nothing more than an unspoken truce and love between them.
School introduced him to the pleasures of female companionship, something he would have learned sooner had he not skipped so many classes. After his streak of anger ended abruptly he made fast friends with a group of musicians; A couple of twins that played the guitars, a girl that beat the drums, a red-headed boy that caressed the synthesizers and keyboards, a dark-haired boy that strummed the bass, and a funny little blonde boy that choked out lyrics on the mic and lulled a violin into creating a beautiful melody. Though Baden never played an instrument in his life he did enjoy music, which is the reason why he gravitated to the group of isolated, yet very social, students. It did not surprise him at first when they objected to socializing with him outside of school, what with his reputation and all, but soon enough they hung out everyday.
Not long after that he hooked up with Jessica, the drummer, even though he brother Alex, the bassist, strongly disapproved. He figured this is why she gravitated towards him in the first place. He was the bad boy that her family would not approve of her going out with even if they approved of her being his friend. He was in love. He attended every one of their concerts throughout the country, stealing kisses from the teen that was all curves and wild red hair before she went on and stealing nights of bliss with her after she finished performing.
Though it is hardly right to acknowledge, he was not surprised when she wound up pregnant just two years after they started going out. After Alex found out by her announcing that she would be quitting the band soon, the surly giant of a man, now twenty-one, grabbed the closest thing he could that would work as a weapon, a spare aluminum panel siding for their little tour bus, and struck out at Baden.
It's razor sharp edge, backed by the strength of Alex's downward slash, cut into his shoulder and through his collar bone, tearing muscle, tissue, flesh, veins, and scraping against breast bone until it's length suddenly fell short and the metal glided out of him. Blood poured down his bared chest, and distantly he could hear Jessica screaming in horror at what her brother had done to him. But he did not look at her. He was staring only at Alex and his shocked expression. And then his world went black.
Baden woke to Alex's ugly mug staring down at him with a sheen of tears in his eyes, Jessica's hand holding his, and Mateo smiling at him from the foot of his bed, weariness in his relieved brown eyes. It was this show of love that finally made him understand that despite all the ugliness of the world, all the ugliness of his world, people did genuinely care about him. Not even the pain through his shoulder and breast could make him hate his soon-to-be brother-in-law. In fact it just proved to him how much Alex cared about his baby sister.