Name:Barney Murphy Type:Stalwart Origin:Military Allegiance:IDA Virtue:Hot Shot Vice:Expert

Charisma (2) Manipulation (2) Appearance (2)

Perception (2) Intelligence (2) Wits (4)

Social:Intimidation (3) Savvy ( 2) Subterfuge (2) Etiquette (2)

Mental:Awareness (2) Navigation (3) Engineering(2) Survival (2) Drive (2) Pilot (4)

Who'd Play Him/Her in the Movie: Joe Morton

Equipment:Carries a small revolver which he rarely needs (3 Lethal) 6 shots). Allways carries a small folding knife and a compass

Appearance/Clothing Tendiencies:Barney is a clean and spare looking black man with close cropped hair. He has a ready smile and his eyes betray his intelligence. There isn't a lot of fat on barney and his musculature is extremely wiry. Barney cuts quite a figure in anything he wears but feels out of place in anything other than a flight suit

House,Circle, Influence: Well. not much but Barney holds very few friends really dear.

What has gone Before:You grew up on a farm in illinois. Life was tough for a young black kid from the sticks but you've never been much for complaining. People who gave you shit growing up inevitably discovered that you thought faster than them and you were capable of cutting them up with your tounge faster than they could have believed...Granted it wasn't always the smart thing to do but hey you gotta stand up you know? That's what your papa taught you. Your papa was one of the first black men in the area to actually own his own farm. Oh sure your dad got a lot of shit from illinois hilljacks.. but each time they came around to cause trouble he just squared his shoulders and rebuilt. (of course, a couple of times, he was able to catch them in the act and it was never pretty then. Papa knew how to shoot that shotgun.)

One day your papa's farm got large enough that he was forced to hire a cropduster. Wally was a bit of a drunk but he had a good heart. you were fascinated by the single prop and a fast friendship happened. Soon Wally James was tutoring the you in the finer points of stunt flying (which is what he used to do.)

When the war rolled around, you enlisted (papa was so proud) and they refused to believe the idea that a 19 year old buck nigger was smart enough to fly a plane. They kept denying you a chance to prove them wrong until you stole a plane and buzzed the tower a couple of times. 30 days in the stockade later, you were transferred over to flight missions. Naturally, they wouldn't give you anything good. But, doing mail runs was at least not peeling potatoes.

One day that plane got shot down over Alsace and you went down....the miracle is that you got up and walked away from it changed...

There is a certain amount of buddhistic calm that comes from knowing that you can walk away from a plane crash and can survive any beating that cracker nutcases want to mete out.

You first met Sean on one of those missions in Europe. they needed a pilot on short notice for one of "those" kinds of missions. You were obviously the most expendable pilot they had. Your C.O. stood there flat footed with his mouth open until you grinned at him and said, " What's the matter? haven't you ever seen an Irish pilot before?" He couldn't help himself and started laughing. You were fast friends from that day on. He even got you your current job hauling cargo for IDA.