Height: 6'4
Weight:220
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Chestnut
Apparent Age: 24

The name's O'Rourke, Mickey O' Rourke. Sit down, enjoy your drink, and I'll tell you a tale, a tale the likes of which you've scarcely heard. Fame, Fortune, Betrayal, Queens and Courtiers. I was born a secret; born Wee, born free, and under a Blue Moon; a shamrock in m' hand. My Ma and Da before me were warriors of a sort, an' had joined had joined a movement. A fight for our Freedom. Unlike the D'Jinn before us; who began to meet cruelty and slavery with an open declaration of war, we Wee Free Fae weren't powerful by ourselves. What we were was; quiet, ignored, and everywhere. A second war started, this one a rebellion of stealth and guile.

I'm ashamed to say that due to my hot temper, I wasn't a Guerrilla for too long before I caught the watchful eye of what seemed like every damned imbedded traitor of HRH Mab. My quick wit; and the favor of Lady Luck, had granted me the ability to lay my hands on items of curious interest and probably embarrassment. It was some pretty hot stuff, Lads and Lasses! What HRH Mab had intended as a unanimous vote for my hanging by a Council Of Lords had ended in a banishment to the World of Man.

T'was there I met the loves of my life, found my fortune and lost it all. I was a dab hand at cards, and smart enough to know to lay my bets at different joints at different times. Eventually I built up a meager fortune, and opened my own Sports Bar, getting into the business of Making Book on a Grander Scale. I made friends and hires of Lads that could provide protection; guys that were fighting a similar fight in Man's land. Shite, I even ended up taking in a half-goblin chiseler who could'nae been barely old enough to be a Master's Apprentice back in Fae. Came to consider that boy; Oisin, my own son, I did. I was datin' a Pixie by the name of Thorne, and she had connections to the Wee Free movement back in Fae. Her Human-Disguise job was as a Yoga Instructor; need I say more?

Then it all turned to shite. Came crashing down on my fecking head. I made the mistake of trying to help some Nephilim chick who was down on her luck. Up shite crik with nae a paddle. Needed a transport to a White Witch on-the-double, for reason of Realm threatening Apocalypses and the like. Tickets and IDs were organized. The Underground Railroad that existed for Magic-Types in The Land 'O' Man was set in motion. That ungreatful little Slag had a clear path out of trouble when she went and turned herself in; an' named names.

The Bar got blown up by the American Government. Me adopted son and the nice human Barback; she was in a Nursing Program,  got wasted. I got set on fire, and barely survived. As I was layin' there dying, in a human hospital that had no chance of treating me, I got a visit from what passes as Magical Law Enforcement out here in the Boondocks. High on pain meds, my Gobshite mouth ran an' ran, and I explained all'a 'bout how the Nephilim on the run was heading to some Witch. A Witch who turned out to have some kinna Grand Destiny, with big arse capital letters.

Well, all the shite I blabbed got recorded, and suddenly my word was Testimony, and The Great Ladies; my former, and possibly still sworn enemies, all of a sudden Lady Titania was making with the healing and the life saving. She also decided to make me 'look more Tuatha' turned me into a 6'5", chisled-cheekboned Carny you see before you. Thorne; I don't blame her, dumped my freakisly large ass. It came down to two choices, eat some Cold Iron, or try to make something of myself again. I joined up with SPARCLE, and keep trying not to look back.