Full Name: Howard Walsh
Nickname/Alias: Walshie, How.
Age: 28
Age apparent: Mid twenties
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Straight
Occupation: ATF Special Agent
Languages: English, Scots Gaelic (Rusty and generally used only with the grandparents), Latin (Limited to reading mostly and quotes), Ancient Greek (similar and more regarding reading)
Species: Human
Powers: Howard's athletic and trained in law enforcement. He's familiar with most small arms and reasonably proficient as befitting his role. Basic first-aid, wilderness survival and the like is all familiar. He's also been trained in basic forensic examination, particularly those relating to arson or blast sites.

On the more mundane side of things, Howard has the benefits of a classical education. He's limited in it but able to read and translate (slowly) from Latin and Ancient Greek. Effectively bilingual, he finds languages easy enough to pick up but is limited usually to the mere basics thanks to lack of time. Thanks to his education, he has a smattering of French and Spanish, his party trick is normally rattling off phrases in a dozen tongues. He also has a surprising taste for whiskey.

Overall Appearance: Howard's an average enough sort of guy. Average height, not overly big in frame, he blends in easy to a crowd. Which is what he is delighted to do. Bright blue eyes, a ready smile and a steady gaze, he doesn't seem to be threatening at all. A haircut every four months is his only attempt to keep it in check, the word comb is unheard of. Normally clean-shaven, Howard's been known to let it grow out if needs be. ATF usually leave the heavier undercover work to the DEA so hes generally well-groomed. Desk work requires some kind of professional appearance afterall.

He walks lazily but is confident, not shifty or in the slightest guilty. Despite his height, he has surprisingly small hands and feet, only around an 9 in runners. His hands themselves are very dexterous and lithe. He ensures his fitness with a good jog or cycle everyday and rigorous callisthenics back at his place. It's one thing that he is definite and rarely ever lets slip. He's still undergoing exercises to strengthen his right shoulder after the latest incident, waiting to get it back to a hundred percent.

Height: 5'10/11
Weight: 12st
Hair Color: Brown
Hair Length/Style: Short
Eye Color: Blue
Skin Tone: Sunburnt-tanned
Body Shape: Athletic
Complexion: Ruddy
Clothing: Casual/Business
Character Model: Alex Mcloughlin

Basic Personality: Quiet and focused, Howard gives off an air of quiet professionalism. Eager to prove himself he can tend to be a bit over-zealous in his work. This is tempered by his willingness to bend the rules just slightly if needed for a conviction. The greater good is something Howard deeply believes in. Once he has something in his sights, its an obsession that will have him pursue it to the end, regardless of being told to call off it or butt his nose out. It never ends well and always irks superiors but it’s the one thing he won’t allow himself to compromise on. Like how the Mounties always get their man, Howard will never let unfinished business.

Dedicated to his job, Howard's still young enough to keep it as number one in his priority list. A little awkward with social interaction, he more then makes up for it with his quick wit, which can result in foot in mouth at in appropriate times. Once you get past the initial layer, hes likeable enough. His casual drawl can come out with some surprising laconic statements when he wants. He's regarded as competent if slightly eccentric by his colleagues. Few understand his passion for the classics or the delight he gets in reading Xenophon's Anabasis in it's original Greek.


Sexual Likes: Most
Sexual Dislikes: Pain
Sexual Strengths: Stamina
Sexual Weaknesses: Conservative

Merits: Determined, good memory,

Flaws: Over-zealous, will follow something through to the bitter end.

Character Motivations/Goals: To hit out at whatever's causing this havoc and do something to restore the peace.

Player Motivations/Goals: Part of the reason I've stuck in the whole classical references is that well I can see Howard in some way not having grown out of the whole knight in shining armour or lone ranger dream. The conflict here doesn't seem as black and white or too clear cut. I'd like to see him struggling to keep his principles while the lines blur and shades of grey make it hard to figure out whos in the right or wrong.

History: The third of four and originally from Cape Breton in Canada, Howard grew up in Juneau, quite a change from his family's ancestral home. His family are the usual Irish-Scottish mongrel mix you get on Breton with strong ties to their ancestral homeland back on the Western Isles. It doesn’t manifest itself overly so but Howard and his sisters were still all raised with Gàidhlig as their first tongue and while the population speaking it and Irish in Canada has declined, his grandparents are still regimentally strict on it and won’t speak in any other tongue to their family. It might seem antiquated in this day and age but his family are still fiercely proud of their heritage.  Though if you press him, he’s more likely to say he’s American having been born and bred there.
His parents divorcing around when he was seven, a result of the move to Alaska, Howard didn't have a particularly bad childhood, it just wasn't a materialistic one. His mother worked hard to keep him and his sisters clothed and in school. Devoted to her children, she did her best to ensure they had as good an upbringing as possible. The only boy, Howard was able to wheedle certain concessions from his mother and would always claim he was the favourite.

An uneventful childhood followed. Weekends at his father's cabin further north while for school he stayed in the city with his mother. His mother did her best to raise them appropriately while his father seemed to delight in knowing his spawn were able to kill and dress a deer with a minimum of fuss or land a whopper of a salmon when in season. Thanks to child support payments, all four of the kids were able to go to university. Howard did a pretty useless degree all things considered, not really sure what way he was going. No one expected him to try the Classics. It was a childhood thing. Always interested in mythology and legends, something about those forgotten civilisations gripped something in his heart. Being in such an untouched area, what some would call wilderness, struck a chord with him and as a child he’d frequently dream of finding a lost city or the thought of uncovering a treasure trove of forgotten texts. Partially from urging from his father, he went to sit the exam for the Alaskan State Troopers. Of course his mother didn't approve, citing he was smart, he had a degree, why didn't he make himself employable and so on so forth. Mother lost. That boyhood dream of adventure hadn’t quite yet evaporated.

Howard spent five years on the job. Five long years. Unlike other state troopers, Alaskan's are expected to cover a variety of roles, from civil papers to policing the entirety of rural Alaska. It's a tough and unrelenting job for the short-handed officers. Less then two hundred and fifty state troopers are expected to cover the entire state, backed up local agents and the occasional federal field office. At its heart, its a thankless task. He enjoyed it though. In some cases checking in on the more isolated communities, it was a throwback to older times, he felt warm at the thought these people respected him and were glad of his presence. Naturally dealing with drunk riggers or fishermen could be a pain on rotating back to more mundane duties but the sheer sense of freedom made up for it. It’s a close knit group and the loss of one is felt by many.
Of course the honeymoon always ends. For Howard it was when an open and shut missing person’s case went sour. Consultation with the Mounties on the Yukon side showed some odd details. As both sides combed their respective borders, a mixed group ventured into the heartland of the wilderness to examine some odd sightings and reports that had winged its way to them. Howard went along as a liaison, being a born Canuck himself it was hoped it would soothe away
A bastardized cult worshipping what they felt was the personification of winter, Ithaqua, had been abducting hikers and loggers in isolated regions. The cooperation between Canadian and US authorities ensured almost none made it away but all Howard can remember is reeling away to empty his stomach when he saw a child’s burnt bone in the charnel pit. There were questions raised over why only two prisoners were taken but no one’s talking. Or will explain the execution style wounds on some of the cultists. Awards were rushed out, mostly to placate those involved and ensure the media didn’t make more of a circus out of it then was already happening.
 It was about then an angel appeared. At the award’s ceremony several members from the federal agencies were there as dignitaries. More than a couple of these had quiet words with the younger state troopers involved, particularly those who’d been seen to have potential. Some like Howard outright turned down offers from the FBI. He genuinely felt if that was the cost of a missing persons case, he’d never want to see one again. But one burly ATF agent had another word with him.
This man Grant was like a mountain. His gravelly voice was quiet but insistent. He told him there were other ways he could do good, that a young man had a lot going for him. He told Howard some of his horror stories and not just about his alcoholism and drug addiction. A four tour veteran of Vietnam, having been present as well at Waco and Ruby Ridge, Howard took solace in the fact that Grant seemed to have exorcized his own demons and stood stronger for it. He took the offer.

Compared to other federal agencies, the ATF is fiercely competitive in its hiring. It is not unheard of for less then 5% of applicants to make it all the way. Special Agents complete a 27week long course at Glynco, Georgia and is longer then any other branch of the Justice Department. Despite a reputation for heavy-handed tactics (Ruby Ridge and Waco), the ATF still have statistics on their side, around 5 cases sorted a year per agent as compared to the paltry 1.2 for the FBI. Howard himself was understandably proud at being in such a selective agency.

The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives is one of the smaller Federal law enforcement agencies and conversely has one of the broadest authority of any federal agency. Special Agents are empowered to enforce any statute in the United States code. They have lead investigative authority on any federal crime committed with a firearm or explosive as well as regulatory issues and cigarette smuggling. They also have the statutory authority to conduct narcotics cases independently of the DEA, ICE or any other agency. Once qualified, all agents go on a three year probationary tour, of which Howard is finishing his third.
Grant took him under his wing. Something of a legendary figure to younger agents, he taught while on and off the job. With him as his rock, Howard began to refocus on his work and the results began to pay off. Though not one to bend the rules more than necessary, Howard still agreed with Grant’s belief that just because the higher up’s are calling it off, doesn’t mean the hunt is finished.

He's established a small name for himself as a serious, dedicated investigator whose knowledge of regulations and law is above board. Unfortunately this is overshadowed by his tendency to stick his nose where it’s not wanted, a trait he shares with a lot of younger agents. However his diplomatic nature has seen him recommended twice for work with other agencies and he’s been lucky not to make major enemies just yet with agencies like the DEA, FBI or ICE. His friends in these agencies are usually like him, on the bottom end of the food chain.
One such example would be Diarmuid Cleary. Taking his cue from Dirty Harry movies and a policing style that would have been more at home in the sixties, Diarmuid is definitely the type to have destroyed evidence, lied under oath and done all sorts of acts in the belief the end justifies the means. Naturally this has its detractors and supporters with mostly by the book individuals like Howard and the older conservatives. The only thing they both seemingly have in common is a determination to see justice through.

Subject to yet another reassignment, he's still bearing the scars of a few months back when an op near the Mexican border went foul and he ended up taking three rounds, one of which slipped past the flak vest and smashed up his shoulder.
Howard was moved down south as part of yet another multi-agency task force that was attempting to interdict the flow of drugs and weapons up and down the border. As part of an attempt to foster better relations, some of the novice agents were swapped to liaison with another agency. Howard's was the DEA. Relegated to grunt work, he took it in his stride and went about with a will doing raids on arms caches and meth labs. The monotony of routine is a dangerous thing, it breeds complacency. Howard regretted this majorly after a fellow agent's firebrand tendencies led to a near disaster.

Diarmuid Cleary is a cowboy, with all the negative connotations that word can carry. Rather then a slow meticulous operation with overwhelming force, he led the way with Howard and two others in a raid that was more akin to the OK Corral. A ten minute gun battle, heavy firing and four wounded, it caused a lot of paperwork and headache. Howard in particular was sore over the whole affair, having shared the blame with Diarmuid. A verbal altercation in the local field office was punctuated by him indicating his shoulder, something that took weeks of therapy to get back in working order.
Not his first clash with Diarmuid, the two have parted with yet another failure to impart to the DEA man that while acting like a cowboy can work in the short term, in the long run it rarely pays off.
Assigned to Michigan in light of the recent violence, Howard's official role is as a junior liaison for the ATF to attempt to combat the arms that are making their way to Humans First as well as the gangs that other power players are using as pawns. What he’s found himself doing(along with a handful of other federal agents) is being roped in with the overstretched local authorities trying to keep the various warring factions apart. Howard won’t lie to himself, he’s scanning the brief rather glumly. Theres the monsters wanting justice (and Christ in this case, they seem to deserve it!), the humans instigating it are enacting warfare on the political and physical fields and he’s well aware that as part of the thin blue line in between it all, wearing a badge is just another form of having a target on you.

Relatives (Living/Dead/Undead):
Friends/Contacts:
Ellen Walsh-Mother-Dead
Siobhan Walsh-Sister. 33. Nurse.
Alison Walsh-Sister. 30. Teacher.
Lisa Walsh-Sister. 24. Student.

Diarmuid Cleary-A young firebrand of a DEA agent who Howard's worked with on two occasions. Despite their initial clash, the pair have respect for each other and keep in contact as an unofficial source of intel.

John Grant-veteran ATF agent and mentor to the younger Howard. He's learned alot from this old hick and will greet his retirement with some sadness.

Matthew Williams-a thief with the flair for the dramatic and whos tendency to fence off goods has brought him into conflict with Howard in the past. Unable to pin much on him without evidence, Howard keeps an eye out. But also uses him for intelligence.

Daniel- A freelance cargo pilot and sometime smuggler whos been charged by ICE, DEA, ATF and DHS on several occasions but somehow slipped free. Another useful source.