Born from the Clan Mac Morn,Finnegan wasted a large part of the last few years, drinking, carousing and generally not taking responsibility for his duties as the son of a (Minor) Clan Chieftain.
In fact, he was passed out, drunk, when the Clan was attacked by marauding Gnolls. Finnegan's brother Brannagh was killed in the battle.
When he came to, he found an entire Clan that had turned their backs upon him, his behavior being blamed for Brannagh's death.
His mother inconsolable, his father refused to speak with him, other than to say "Where were Ye, Finn...?"
Finnegan looked down upon his brother's torn and mutilated form, and reached down, retrieving his brother's Glaive, a ridiculously large weapon for him, and (Shouldering it) said "Da, Ma... I will set 'is ghost ta'rest, or wander the World in the tryin'..."
With that, he gathered what things he could carry on his back and left his home, perhaps forever...
He wandered amongst the Wilds, upon roads and pathways trod upon by the
masses of Absalom. He traveled to Cheliax, to see just what Sin and Evil were, to Taldor , to view what living in the Past was. He visited Temples of Shelyn wherever he found them. Always hoping, waiting for a sign.
Now, months later, he seeks new opportunities, new lands. A new life.
Setting sail for a new land,Finn wonders if he will ever be truly free of his guilt. So far, the Goddess has yet to give him a sign, and the shade of Brannagh still seems closer than ever. Whispers in his ear, benevolent, though admonishing...He is 'touched', as his folk say. For good,or for ill, his Wyrd is as it is.
