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[Chaosengine]

(Reposted for newcomers sake)

Name: Ernest Evan Living

Species: Grey Rat

Build: Average with a modest build, nothing special

Height: 5',10"

Age:32

Weight: 160 lbs

Eyes: Green

Hair: Same as his fur... grey

Clothing: I have a full list of images for his clothes, just ask and I'll deliver

Occupation: Miner

The life of a Pennsylvanian miner during the mid to late 1800's was nearly as dangerous as dancing on a minefield. There existed NO legislation of any kind to offer them protection or decent treatment. In 1871, 112 men were killed in the anthracite mines, and 332 permanently injured. In seven years, 556 men had been killed and 1,565 maimed or crippled for life. Out of 22,000 miners, more than 5,000 were sixteen years of age or under. Take-home pay was uncertain; deductions were often arbitrary or at the whim of the owners by means of what they called the "bobtail check." A typical week's wages for a miner at the time was $35; expenses, including rent, groceries, and a new drill, came to $35.03."

It was during this turbulent time that a group of Pennsylvanian miners formed a group opposed to unfairness and intolerable working conditions; they called themselves the 'Mollie McGuire's'. What commenced was an historical clash between coal company executives and common laborers that resulted in a series of unnecessary deaths on both sides. From 1877 to 1879, 26 Mollie McGuire's were sentenced and hanged for their crimes.

Amongst their number was a simple, hardworking rat by the name of Riske Living. A rough and tumble scrapper who's family had known nothing but struggle and misfortune since crossing the sea from Ireland so long ago. As to whether the men he associated with were guilty or innocent, none can say, but when given the choice between siding with the company and saving his life or remaining loyal to his brothers of the mine and swinging by the neck, Riske chose death.

On June 21, 1877, also known as Black Thursday, the first ten of twenty Irish Miners were hung. Riske's son, Ernest stood next to his distraught mother and watched helplessly as his father died. The woman wept uncontrollably, but as for Ernest, the lad of fourteen said not a word nor moved an inch. Much to his family's dismay, he shed no tears, but gripped his mother's hand with such force that he popped her smallest finger out of joint. After this horrendous event, the young rat was changed forever.

Ernest Evan Living was born on the fifteenth of March in 1863 near Pottsville. A run-of-the-mill grey rat with no obvious outstanding qualities, he was one of four children. He was preceded by two older sisters and followed by a younger brother who sadly died at age ten from illness. Originally, he had set his sights on higher education, but after the events of 1877, redirected his focus to his fallen progenitors vocation. Against his mothers wishes, he put everything aside in favor of mining and within four years had surpassed his father's reputation and capabilities amongst the working Irish. Putting aside the traditional pick axe and shovel of his contemporaries, young Ernest gladly embraced nitroglycerin and dynamite as the tools of his trade. Placing his top priorities on the use and mastery of this notoriously unstable commodity, his name became synonymous with precise and efficient blasting, whether above ground or below.

Ernest tossed aside his once clean and gentle exterior to fully epitomize the tough and burly life of a laborer. Favoring strong drink and foul cigars, he engaged in the traditional rough housing and fist fights that were typical amongst his brethren during their limited off hours. Despite being as far detached from polite society as one can imagine, he takes after his species noted adaptability and can clean himself up rather admirably if need be.

The tragic building blocks of his youth have made the rat an enigma to his fellow man. His personality can be seen as blusterous, sardonic or even downright antagonistic to those who do not know him. Coupled with a thinly veiled sense of self loathing and randomness, the miner has trouble making friends and often seems to have more enemies than usual. All of this is a facade, however, for within that calloused frame lies the fractured remains of a broken-hearted little rat who loves and misses his dead father.

The Pinkerton Agency, a group of infamous law dogs and so called 'detectives' were integral in the downfall of the Mollies. After the mass execution of the miners, the Pinkerton's kept close watch over the families of the deceased to prevent any further action taken against the coal companies. Ernest's change in character and love of explosives pegged him as a dangerous rat and a potential terrorist in the eyes of the law. The detectives continued to shadow him into his twenties, constantly dogging his tail and harassing him at every turn, in hopes of forcing him to take action and provide reason for arrest.

In 1885, the offices of the Titan mining company were blown sky high in the middle of the night. The building was empty and no injuries of any kind were reported. The finger of blame was placed squarely upon Ernest, who swore his innocence vehemently. When the mining company claimed a large sum of insurance money and began construction of a larger and more spacious office site, the miners sensed a convenient set up and with the help of one Father James Harrigan, smuggled Ernest out of the country and into Europe to avoid false prosecution.

Living worked diligently throughout the countryside, offering his talents to fellow miners for a fraction of what one of his talents would normally ask. He held nothing but contempt for the mine owners and company men, who were as greedy and ruthless as the ones back home.

It is in 1893 that a major strike amongst British coal miners began. Arguments over safety and wages threatened to stifle the industry and executives were desperate to end it quickly. Seizing the opportunity, overseers spread false rumors that Ernest was a company scab hired to oust the striking workers for a wave of immigrants to replace them on the job. Most chose not to believe, but a handful of desperate and bigoted workers took the lies to heart. Ernest was harassed, assaulted and his quarters and possessions vandalized. Wanting nothing more than to fight it out, the rat was later talked into leaving by the ever present Father James, who suggested a little place in Italy where a gentleman could hide and never be found.
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