Dáire Áh'Braucháin

Móríg (a.k.a. The Ironwood)

There's a common perception of the Sabháini that makes them out to be a rough people, that only work, then drink and revel, then work again.
Áh'Braucháin is the driving force in that perception.
Out of all the kings and queens I've met in my time, and gods I've encountered in my travels, Áh'Braucháin was by leagues the most fun. Spending most of his days carousing if he has nothing pressing at the time. Even if he does, his night are most certainly the same.
He presents an almost fatherly warmth to everyone he meets, and his quick wit and incisive mind can catch anyone who thinks him nothing more that a common ruffian with a crown of guard. The only time I wouldn't want to be near him would be when someone manages to unseat that demeanor. The only time I ever saw it was when a snubbed suitor insulted his daughter. Unjustly, might I add. 
Áh'Braucháin flew into a rage so great the suitor immediately fled on horseback across the city. Áh'Braucháin followed on foot. His physical abilities belaying the harmless father he always seems to. He crashed through carts and carriages as well as the walls of buildings he thought were in his way. While he did not hurt his people, at least not directly, the trail of destruction only grew in magnitude every time the suitor would take a sharp turn, evading Áh'Braucháin's grasp. 
Finally the suitor slipped out the gates and into the twilight. The king gave one more roar of rage, before swinging a fist out and striking a lookout tower, cracking it's foundation and causing it's evacuation.

Age

67

Gender

Male

Eyes

Green

Hair

Red

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Light White

Height

6' 1"

Weight

198