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[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/HBzFgL0.jpg[/img][/center]
[b]Name:[/b]
	Donovan MacConaill
[b]Gender:[/b]
	Male
[b]Appearance:[/b] 
	Sporting the physique from his college football days, Donovan stands at 6'2" and weighs 220lbs (other features are as the picture shows.)
[b]Goals:[/b] 
	To build a new world for his fellow man before finally joining his wife in the afterlife.
[b]Past Life:[/b]
	The old man took another sip of his coffee as he walked the dimly lit Philidelphia streets. For the last five years he'd been making this trek nightly, ever since Beatrice had last her battle with cancer. It helped him keep going, despite the loneliness he felt without her; reminded him of why he got out of bed in the morning despite the protests of his aging body.  He passed by a diner; closed by now of course. Between the peeling paint and dirt-stained windows, it's age and level of disrepair were apparent. But past the moldering wood and crumbling plaster, the old man saw something else-- a memory.  A tired-eyed young man was seated at one of the booths. Across from him was a scrawny, elderly fellow, wearing a well-ironed white shirt. The waitress was the most beautiful thing the young fellow had ever seen. Her name was Beatrice.

 	Continuing down the road, the old man continued to reminisce. The streets around him were important to him.  They were where he'd walked Bea home every night from work. Where he'd taught all seven of their children to drive.  Before he'd even realized; he was once again where his life took a turn for the better. A bridge. A small, dainty little thing. Not to mention ugly as sin. It'd been his first design after graduating from his civil engineering courses back so many years ago. He'd just about been ready to jump off the damn thing to his death. Just the thought of it made him chuckle. To give up on life over such a silly little thing? What a fool he'd been back then.  If Reverend Stuart hadn't pulled him away from the ledge that day, and treated him to lunch-- it all would've ended there.  Donovan smiled at the moon overhead, it'd been nearly 60 years since that life changing day. And in that time he'd built much more than bridges, and skyscrapers; he built a family, a legacy-- a life.  One he was truly grateful for. 

Donovan yawned as he bundled himself up tight in his jacket and sat down on the sidewalk of the bridge. Was it just him, or was the air a wee bit chillier than usual tonight. Maybe he was just tired. A few minutes of sleep wouldn't bring an end to his nightly stroll, would it?
 
[b]Abilities:[/b]
	Physical Conditioning: Peak human
		Your body is naturally tough, durable, and strong. The pinnacle of human physical strength, endurance, and agility. Keep training, and surely you can surpass even stronger beings.
	Soul Flare: The ability to turn ones soul into a weapon itself. Needed for most basic magical feats. Channel the mana present in the air through your body to achieve great feats. Allows one to interact with supernatural things, and perceive things others may not.
	Foreman: Because of your past lifes accomplishments, you have been granted the ability to summon your own personal army of construction workers. They take an ethereal appearance and number from 5-20 depending on how many are needed for the job. These people do not tire, do not require rest or breaks and could theoretically stay active 24/7. However, they run on your own personal physical stamina and Magic ability. With proper planning, timing, and personal training, they could finish building a project that would have taken a month, in little over a week or so. All you have to do is give them direction and make sure you have your plans in hand. They are incapable of fighting, and may be disrupted with certain magical skills.
[b]Inventory:[/b]
	"You'll start with nothing. Sorry, I'm not a weapon smith or weaver...though you do have clothes. Probably~"
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