In the Colosseum, life hanged on the tip of a knife's edge. That went doubly so in Renais, where criminals and prisoners of war were placed on a bloody stage for people's entertainment. All for the sake of living another day. They were not granted judgement or execution; they were guilty from the moment they were caught, and eventually their punishment was going to come from the hands of another. In a strange way, this system worked reasonably well, since combatants were always easy to find and it helped distract the citizens from their daily lives. Seeing death excited people and it worked especially when you did not need to feel guilty for seeing a person's body mangled because they deserved it. They were absolved of their twisted enjoyment and were still seen as 'good' members of society. The Emperor brought them entertainment, and they all came to see the show.
What they came to see most was whenever his nameless children fought. Some were older than others, stronger while others were thinner, and quickly each one of them were weeded out before they had much of a chance at life. It wasn't unfair: they were trained on how to hold a weapon and which end was used to kill. If they died, it was because they were weak. In a twisted way, seeing his children suffer made people's own hatred for the Emperor diminish because his offspring were being punished. For one child, born with golden eyes, life was more cruel than for the others. Despite being seen as an augur of the Gods, an omen of illness for Renais, it did not make anybody give him any mercy. It merely made his life worse. Beatings were common, as were broken or fractured bones, for whenever he angered a guard by looking at them with his cursed eyes, like he had any control of what color they were. If he wasn't getting beaten by the guards, he was forced to fight for his life in the arena, where people targeted him especially - they believed if they could kill the God's chosen one that there was some fortune in it for themselves in the afterlife. All it did was send them to the grave sooner.
No quarter. No prisoners. No mercy. he repeated the mantra in his head, instilled upon him by the guards. It was his personal prayer for a God he did not know exist. It was what he told himself to get through another day. It was what he needed to know in order to live the next day.
And so the nameless child repeated those words in his head, like a sweet lullaby, in order to sleep. He ignored the hard, rocky, coldness of the stone underneath him that he used as his bed. The feeling of the jagged parts sometimes scratching him whenever he rolled over as he slept. He ignored the aching muscles that hardly had the strength in them to keep up with the rest of the adults around him. He was a child, but he was facing grown men who trained their entire lives, and still he somehow managed to kill them. He ignored the emptiness of his stomach, filled with nothing but cheap wheat that was lined with drugging powder that he swore was making the inside of his stomach eat away at itself. In the cold bosom of the darkness, he awaited the dawn. And once dawn came, he cursed his flesh until night fell once more.
The child even prayed that he would lose his sanity. But those Prayers went unheeded. Nothing changed. And when he strove for the peacefulness of death, the Devil's cold, pitiless hand grabbed hold and held him back.
Well...It won't be long now...
The battlefield was silent, and it was the silence of death. He could hear only the crows and the vultures in the distance, cawing out to announce their bellies were full with the flesh of fallen soldiers. No other sound. Not even a moan of a wounded but still living man. He heard no survivors because he had ordered it so. He had ordered complete death.
No quarter. No prisoners. No mercy.
His men had driven hard through the weaker army, and when their commander had tried to surrender, Caelum had slaughtered the envoys where they stood. Any soldier too wounded to leave the field had his throat slit by camp followers for the bounty, an ear taken as a trophy. Caelum paid his camp followers according to how many they slew.
Blood saturated the ground; walking among the piles of corpses was very much like slogging through mud after a heavy rain. Except this was blood. Gallons of blood. Blood from four thousand slashes, stabs and slit throats.
The army he commanded became invincible. Opposing warriors quaked in fear to see Caelum's soldiers take the field; at the first javelin cast, they dropped their weapons and ran home to tremble behind their mothers' skirts. The Bloody Emperor gave no quarter. Fleeing soldiers would be cut down, to a man. Parties suing for peace were brutally slaughtered. All the world trembled before the battle cry of his army when Caelum stood at their head.
No quarter. No prisoners. No mercy.
Many were the princes who pled to Caelum to accept their surrender, to save a remnant of their army and their city, even if meant slavery in a Renais kitchen. He refused to hear such pleas. Surrender was never granted. Victory or death in battle were the only acceptable answers-- Caelum expected no less from his own soldiers.
Caelum told his soldier that he killed because the Gods commanded him -- but in truth he killed for his own pleasure. He killed because slaughter was his gift. His passion. Because he loved nothing more than the smell of blood, the screams of the dying, the sight of an army of corpses rotting on the battlefield.
It’s a simple word with a complex meaning and to Caelum there is little trust you can give to the world and not be f--ked over for doing so. He trusts no one but himself, and even then his motivations are fueled by both deception and self-wants.
Even with his personal guards, two people who he clearly cares for deeply is regarded with no trust. In Cael’s mind he see’s it as nothing more than a cooperative deal, one that is unshakable and their nature means he knows they won’t stray very far from his task.
It’s his own way of trying to refuse the fact he’s softened.
Cael does trust, it’s not an impossible feat. The most impossible aspect of gaining his trust is actually making him acknowledge it, which he fails to do on a regular basis. Even calling those friends is difficult and you’d have more success pulling out his teeth. One by one.
But he does trust. He wants friends. He wants love and life – things robbed from him because of her non-privileged background. Stubborn and headstrong, Cael’s the type of person to have things his particular way and if they aren’t then they are wrong.
If he hesitates to release you from his clutches, its safe to say you are his friend and you are welcomed there. Trusted beyond measure.
It tastes weird when you say it…..
When it comes to sex, Cael is no different from any other man in power; little things can set him off to want to be touched or touch someone in return, and because his body is extremely sensitive at receiving both pain and pleasure, he almost always wants to have sex.
His appetite is insatiable to a fault, and Cael has two defaults to sex he will take to depending on who it is he is sleeping with. The first is just to get off, and that is normally with someone he doesn’t necessarily care for or find attractive – but he needs them, like a tool. The second is when he – in particular – actually desires the person in question, and will have the sex not only last longer, but grow aggressive and intense.
Cael’s preferences in a lover are aggressive and sadistic, perhaps due to his own experiences when he was a child. Talking dirty, rough sex, smacking, hair-pulling, biting, cutting and scratching – all of these things and more are things Cael most enjoys about sex with someone he particularly favors.
Even to a point he is very giving, again, another side effect from his life as a whore in a jail cell taken advantage by the guards, he has bad habits of being overly pleasing in sex and will be sure to get his partner off first before himself. This isn’t as often anymore, but it does come from time to time, and plays an essential role to his partners if he thinks it will help them find him more desirable.
Murder and Bloodlust
Taking a life is an easy feat, and if questioned Caelum will explain that the first time is always the hardest. Merely for the fact that you’re shocked and you vomit quite a bit, but other than that it only gets easier and more enjoyable.
Enjoyable in the sense you are master of her own destiny, fate…
You decide when and where you die, and each battle can be as intense as the last one.
Murder? It’s a necessity in the world of Renais. And Cael is more than equipped to justify his slaughter and lust to care for his own needs above others. It was required you see, to remain hidden and to stop those who would seek revenge later.
They always wanted revenge. That’s how all the cliche stories started off… right? Children seeking revenge for a parent or a sibling.
Easier just to kill them all.
A sickness runs deep in his mind, enough so that murder is as easy as breathing, and as pleasurable as sex. Power had been deprived of him all his life and to finally hold the other end of what he wanted was gratifying.
Being an Emperor merely intensifies these wants, while being bathed in the blood of his foe’s and victims makes him ten times as powerful as he was previously. Mistake not, Cael will kill. Annoy him enough and he will make good on the threats of cutting off your head.
Because after all.
It’s so much easier than talking.