XXXXXXＷｅｌｃｏｍｅXXXXXX
"Ｔo the wonderful world of Ciaran Frost."
Kaya Wolf Moon
Ⅰ. Ｔｈｅ ＢａｓｉｃｓXXXXX
╯Ｎame: Ciaran Frost
╯Ｎickname(s): Wraith, Master of Torment, The Pumpkin King
╯Ｂirth Ｄate: February 14th
╯Ａge: 29
╯Ｇender: Male
╯Ｒace: Human
╯Ｒelationship Ｓtatus: Single
Ⅱ. ＡｐｐｅａｒａｎｃｅXXXXX
╯Ｈeight: 6'2"
╯Ｗeight: 180 lbs.
╯Ｔattoos: His guild tattoo in addition to a large Celtic tattoo which stretches across his chest and down to the top of his belly button.
╯Ｓcars: None
╯Ｐredominant Ｆeatures: His white hair with a single black streak and yellow eyes.
Ⅲ. ＰｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙXXXXX
╯Ｓexuality: Bisexual
╯Ａlignment ---Ａllegiance: Himself and his followers
╯Ｒank: Saint
╯Ｏccupation: Priest, Mage, Destroyer of Lives
╯Ｓecrets: While he performs the duties of the priesthood, his ambitions are far more than anyone ever imagined. He tends to keep his artistic endeavors a secret as well, from all but his most loyal followers.
╯Ｐersonality: Ciaran is, for the most part, a reserved individual. He does not jump into action quickly, preferring to sit back and study his opponent for some time. When he speaks, it tends to come off as cocky because he believes that his is the only route to bringing true chaos to the world. Ciaran believes that only the strong deserve the right to survive in the new world, and that any form of weakness shouldn't be tolerated. In this way, as well as many others, he can be extremely stubborn. Even with his guild members, Ciaran can be rather difficult to please due to his eccentricities and rigid viewpoint.
Personal beliefs notwithstanding, Ciaran holds quite the sadistic streak. This is most notably evidenced during battles against his enemies, and sometimes even his allies...if they piss him off enough. His is a slow descent into darkness as he prefers to toy with his opponents, taunting and tormenting them before delivering the final blow. He further enjoys marking his triumph by etching the fallen's expression into a pumpkin or by painting it upon a canvas. A morbid yet artistic trophy. However, contrary to what some might believe, he does not possess a mental disorder nor is he remotely psychotic. He is well within his faculties during these instances, capable of enjoying them thoroughly while his intellect shines. Such idiosyncrasies might very well stem from witnessing his family's murder, not that he cares to explore the reasoning behind it.
╯Ｓkills:
» Capable of seeing the dead and claiming their souls for his magic
» Able to read another's movements and react accordingly in minimal time
» Enhanced speed and reflexes
» Very artistic
» Handy with a scian (short sword)
» Master manipulator
» Master of torture
» Capable of speaking multiple languages
╯Ｌikes:
» Strength
» The thrill of the fight
» Hearing his enemy's screams of torment
» Toying with others
» Halloween
» All things scary, spooky, or creepy
» Ridding the world of those he deems unworthy
» Creating his macabre trophies
» Seeing his plans through to fruition without anyone realizing the truth
╯Ｄislikes:
» People who stand in his way
» Being mocked, belittled, or underestimated by anyone
» Weakness
» Having his plans ruined or discovered prematurely
» All things fluffy, frilly, or cutesy
» Being told he can't do something
» Others standing against him
» Having his fun interrupted
» When his art is destroyed or put down...there is always hell to pay
» Having to put on airs of the priesthood
╯Ｆears:
» Having his plans discovered prematurely
» Heights
Ⅳ. Ｂａｔｔｌｅ ＳｔａｔｉｓｔｉｃｓXXXXX
╯Ｓtrengths:
» Highly skilled in his magic
» Refined magic control
» Keen intellect
» Stealth, despite his gaudy clothing
» Versatile range in combat
» Immense magic reserves
╯Ｗeaknesses:
» Prone to arrogance and over confidence
» Quick to tire in prolonged combat situations
» His fear of heights
» Tendency to overestimate his abilities at times, thus taking on more opponents than is wise
╯Ｍagic Ｔypes : Caster and Holder
╯Ｗeapon(s): Pumpkins...in a way. Scian (short sword).
╯Ｆighting Ｓtyle: Various forms of Taijutsu, Kenjutsu, and Tai Chi Chuan
Ⅴ. ＬｉｆｅｓｔｙｌｅXXXXX
╯Ｂio: Ciaran’s story begins like any other. Back in the time when he was but a child- the eldest child of healers. His parents loved him and his sibling dearly, and they constantly strove to provide and nurture. Their love was stronger than anything in the world. That is, until a curse was placed upon his mother by a jealous woman. The woman wanted everything that Ciaran’s mother had built and so had sought out a shaman to do her bidding. She then lured her unknowing victim away from the family under the guise of a berry-picking endeavor. No sooner than the pair were out of sight did the jealous one spring her trap, thrusting accursed powder upon her supposed friend. The change was instant. Ciaran’s mother was no more, instead replaced with someone harboring an intense rage and bloodlust. Despite his father’s greatest efforts, the mother would see the happiness around her destroyed. The rays of light and hope shattering instantly as Ciaran’s father failed to protect his family. His younger sibling fell instantly to the suddenly mighty rage.
As for Ciaran himself, he managed to escape the madness by clambering through a small window in the house that had once been his home. The window deposited him onto a secreted path that Ciaran blindly followed until he could no longer run from lack of breath and energy. Exhausted, he collapsed in a densely forested area, curling into a small ball underneath the brush in an attempt to hide. The horror of what had happened fresh in his mind, causing him to shudder and tremble in fright. His tired mind could not take the strain and so sent him into a deep slumber. For how long he rested, Ciaran did not know. He awoke to find that the radiant moon had reached high into the heavens. A soft lilt drifted upon the wind, urging him to seek it out. He did not have far to look. A fair-skinned maiden wandered amongst the trees. She sang to them and to the creatures inhabiting them. Ciaran felt himself inexplicably drawn to her. Emerging from his hiding spot, he stayed rooted to where he stood until her gaze fell fully upon him. Minutes passed before either spoke to the other. Indeed, it took the maiden speaking first before Ciaran would say anything in turn. Their conversation was brief in the end, with it being decided that the young boy would be tended to by the maiden till he was of age to make his own path.
And so Ciaran found a new mother. Or so he had hoped. One particularly dreary day, after he had just turned eleven, he happened across the maiden in deep discussion with another. Ciaran had never seen the male before. His sinister appearance instantly struck a chord deep within the young one. Concerned for his adoptive mother, Ciaran strode toward the pair with purpose. He would defend her from the evil one. Noble as his intentions were, they were all for naught. During the confrontation, a cackling laugh issued forth from the woman. She explained in great detail the plan that she concocted and set into motion. All so that she might steal another’s joy. The plan, unfortunately, had gone awry. But the woman still found fortune when she found Ciaran, alive and unharmed. Motherhood had not suited her well it seemed, though, for she found herself growing tired of Ciaran by the day. Thus the arrival of the dark shaman.
Terrified, the young boy ran from the fearsome duo. His efforts to dodge and evade coming up short in the end as the male’s longer legs worked to his advantage. Ciaran was captured within seconds. His hopes for any sort of happiness once more torn asunder. The dark shaman and woman had made a deal it seemed. He needed an apprentice to pass his mantle to while she merely wished to be rid of the lad. It was a deal made in hell. The shaman took the boy far away from any town or village, to the farthest reaches of Lux Brumalis, entrapping him in a life of seclusion and hatred. There, in his new abode, is where the true Ciaran began to emerge. For all the years of solitude and torment, hours of relentless training and deprivation of sleep, some might claim that the boy went mad from it all. His teacher nothing more than a demon whom preyed on the weak and feeble. But that would be only part of the truth. At first, the young boy feared and loathed his master and his lessons, merely adhering to them in order to survive to the next day. As time passed, however, Ciaran found that his lessons sparked something within him. Something that lay hidden in the deepest bowels of his psyche. He grew excited to learn new and interesting methods and felt joy upon employing the dark arts. A sense of purpose and power welled inside him. It coursed through his veins, morphing him from the meek child he had been to something far more…devious. The time had come for him to be tested.
His master provided him a simple, singular motive- destroy or be destroyed. An entire town was to be his target. A task he accepted with glee. And one that he did not dwell long on completing. Within a span of a day, the ill-fated occupants of the town were massacred. None were left alive. The monster who destroyed their happiness stood tall amidst the wreckage and carnage. Blood coated every inch of him as he smiled defiantly up at the heavens. In that moment, he knew, there would be no recourse for him. His heart and soul could never be cleansed. Yet he was not bothered by this. No, he relished in the fact. This was the path he desired. To kill, steal, and destroy for the pleasure of it. What he had been in his youth mattered not. An age long past and best left forgotten. The dark shaman appeared before him, pleased by what he witnessed. He could teach him no more and, thus, knew his reign as King had ended. With a flash of darkness, he bestowed all that he was onto the teenager. All that he had done, all the suffering he had caused, pain he had endured, and souls he had stolen- they were awarded to the chosen heir. Ciaran no longer stood before him a child, but a King of darkness. Cursed for the ages. A pact sealed by the murder of the innocent and the tainted alike.
More recent years have found Ciaran wandering the world. He steals souls for his magic while seeking out like-minded individuals for his cult. His main goal at the forefront of his mind to grow to full might and power and unite the world under his command. Leaving death, destruction, and despair in his wake is his second, most favorite agenda.
╯Ｇoals --- Ｍotives: To bring chaos and destruction to the world so that he can bring true salvation to it.
╯Ｇuild Ｍark: Blood red on upper left arm
╯Ｒelationships:
» [Not just romance, optional, can be removed]
»
»
╯Ｔheme: Mᴀɪɴ: Resurrection ; Eᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ: Dumbledore's Farewell ; Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ/Cᴏᴍᴇʙᴀᴄᴋ: Battle for Camelot ; Dᴀʀᴋ: Sacrifice
╯Ｅxtra: He possesses some of the greatest artistic ability ever seen. Skills which he utilizes to fulfill his dark desires and fantasies by carving onto pumpkins or through use of any other medium...any medium AT ALL.
