A grizzled, grey-haired grump whose battered face bears the broken nose and faded battle scars of his brawler youth, Finney Fallon is a legend in both Kithain and organized-crime circles. The tenacious boggan followed an unusual path from petty enforcer to mob accountant to consigliere over the course of almost fifty bloody years in the ‘family business’. While these days he uses his age to project the image of a kindly (if reserved) grandfather, anyone who looks into his slate-gray eyes has no illusions about how dangerous he really is.
Under his careful supervision the Worcester Knights rose from a ragtag street gang of Kithain hooligans with a few Kinain and mortal hangers-on to become one of the most disciplined, most fearsome organized crime syndicates on the East coast. In recent years they started satellite operations in Chicago, New Orleans, Seattle, and San Francisco, and even begun groundwork to establish networks overseas, particularly in Dublin and Glasgow.
The Knights have their bloody mitts on everything from loan sharking and numbers rackets to hijacking and hiring out contract killers to the highest bidder. There are only two things the Knights won’t touch: human trafficking and hard drugs. Old Finney despises the first as barbaric and the second due to personal distaste with what he considers a chaotic and overly high-profile market. Knights who go against orders and dabble in those areas end up missing fingers, if they don’t just go missing period. Finney’s careful nature and some judicious cantrips have kept any charges from sticking to him over the years, and while he prefers to make deals and talk business when possible, his fists are as hard as ever.
For his part, Old Finney has been offered the top spot in the organization on multiple occasions but always declines, preferring to act as kingmaker and consigliere while watching over the day-to-day operations with a merciless eye for detail. Although these days, most of the syndicate’s rank and file members are mortals with no idea of the group’s magical roots, there are still quite a few changeling soldiers and captains, and the top positions are almost exclusively held by Kithain or their close Kinain relatives. The current boss of bosses, a shrewd redcap named Rosie McIntyre, started as the old man’s driver and came up through the ranks under his tutelage. Last year the two of them had a very public falling out and are now prone to fierce bickering, but in truth it’s all an act, designed to draw out the duplicitous and potentially disloyal.
Perhaps the biggest shock for many Kithain is learning that Old Finney is staunchly Seelie, but those familiar with the old boggan’s rigid sense of honor — if only among thieves — and reverence for traditions like hospitality and the “old way of doing things” aren’t terribly surprised. Aside from a taste for a pipe and some fine scotch, the only indulgence Old Finney allows himself is sports gossip; he reads sports magazines constantly and listens incessantly to sports talk radio. He has even had some of his younger employees teach him how to use a smartphone just to make use of several sports news apps. Anyone who can offer him a suitably juicy tidbit he didn’t already know about one of his beloved New England teams (or their hated rivals) can earn significant favor with the old man.