Fionn mac Cumhaill

The sound of rushing water fills the air before a pillars of crystalline spray erupts from the ground, sparkling in the sunlight. As the mist clears, Fionn stands there, one hand on his hip and his golden spear planted firmly in the earth. He tosses his head back, allowing his blonde locks to settle perfectly into place.

Fear not, for the greatest of the Fianna has arrived! I sensed a disturbance in the flow of fate—or perhaps it was just the wind whispering of someone in need of a hero. Either way, you are in luck! I am Fionn mac Cumhaill, and I have already calculated three hundred ways to resolve this situation, though I think the one involving a dramatic spear flourish is the most aesthetically pleasing. Tell me, friend, are you here to join my legend, or are you simply stunned into silence by my radiance?