A B B R E V I A T E D B I O G R A P H Y
Name:Cathrain
Apparent Age: 53
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3"
Virtue: Patience
Hair: Dark brown/grey | Nickname:
Actual Age:~2000
Languages Spoken: Common, Wolf Speech, High Vampiric
Weight: 200 lbs
Vice: Sloth
Eye Color: Grey |
T H E F I N E R D E T A I L S
The streaks of grey hair upon his head seemingly betray him as a man past his prime and the weariness in his countenance and his eyes do little to dissuade this notion. His abnormally pale skin is often hidden by a thin layer of grime and dirt that naturally gathers when constantly travelling. Though he is slightly taller than the average man he will usually be picked out of a crowd by the presence of his over sized great sword
Caladbolg slung across his back. Whilst travelling he wears an ornate suit of armour carved with runes and script from various old or even forgotten languages. The armour is of the finest quality despite its lack of polish and the multitude of scratches, rents and scars that tell of an eventful past. Across the shoulders of the armour is an unnaturally large wolf pelt with the large beasts head hanging down his back like a hood. Over the armour he wears a great black hooded cloak that is ragged and frayed at the edges, obscuring his armour and face.
When not travelling Cathrain will simply wear a dark chain mail and leather vest with Caladbolg's harness over the top. He is rarely seen without Caladbolg on his back or placed at his side. Despite his aged appearance his physique is still impressive with his whole body covered in corded muscle earned from a lifetime of battle and hard labour. At a glance it is clear that he cares little about grooming or his personal appearance in general.
Caladbolg and his giant wolfskin cloak are an exception as he can often be found cleaning and maintaining them with precision and almost reverence.
His torso and arms are a mass of scars both large and small and there are several faint scars on his brow, nose and cheeks. His grey eyes are cold and carry the full weight of his years in each look. Perhaps what is most strange about him is that despite his appearance and the presence of Caladbolg, he doesnt appear to carry a particularly threatening or violent demeanor and is often friendly and polite though often short spoken. He is rarely quick to violence and can often be relied upon as a voice of reason.
Strengths
Master of War: Cathrain has lived and fought on countless battlefields both great and small. He has an innate and instinctual understanding of how battles ebb and flow and is able to easily read enemy movements as well as taking full advantage of shifts and changes
in battle. His battlefield experience is unparalleled and allows him to direct armies or skirmishes with a great deal of proficiency and instinctually react.
Wolf Brother: Cathrain always had a bond with wolves even before he was turned but it was only after his change that he began to truly understand them. He has spent several lifetimes surrounded by wolf packs and has learned to speak with them in their own tongue. Throughout the years he has fought beside many wolf companions and is able to integrate with packs without having to rely purely on his influential abilities. In the past he has had several close relationships with werewolves due in part, to his affinity and understanding of wolves.
Body and Blade as One: Though Cathrain has tried almost any practical weapon available, none have managed to match the beauty and perfection he finds in the art of the sword. He has devoted himself to sword fighting above all other weapons in order to achieve the highest possible level of skill. In battle Cathrain seemingly dances around his enemies, barely appearing to move or extend effort as his enemies fall dead to the ground in his wake. His fighting style is of his own creation and utilizes perfect balance paired with precise control over the momentum of the blade to perform attacks that has in the past left people in a state of shock for a few seconds before registering what they witnessed. The style he has created was once jokingly described as 'sword juggling' but was more commonly referred to as the sword wind.
Supernatural body: Though his more magical abilities have mostly derserted him, Cathrain still has the body of an ancient vampire with those inherent benefits:
- supernatural strength
supernatural speed
- Fast regeneration
- One with the dark - Cathrain can move silently and blend into darkness easily providing he move carefully and does not directly draw attention to himself or cross inf ront of sources of light.
Weaknesses
Vampire: Catharin still suffers somewhat from the banes that slay lesser vampires:
- Being in directly sunlight is incredibly uncomfortable and his skin burns much faster than a regular humans if uncovered.
- Cathrain loses much of his speed and dexterity whilst crossing fast flowing water or riding ships over the same and despite his strength cannot swim agaisnt the flow.
- Healing effects of mediciens or potions are largely redundant on his body and healing magics will harm him.
- Holy weapons, magics or creatures will inflict wounds that take at least twice as long to heal.
Pride goeth before destruction: Not too long ago he found himself perilously close to the final death and lost everything he had built but the armour and sword that he was able to drag from the burning remains of his castle. The sight of all his accomplishments turning to ash in front of his eyes broke something in him and he has lost nearly any trace of arrogance or self respect which in part is the cause of his ragged appearance. Cathrain now suffers from self doubt and is held back by a general wariness of his surroundings making it very hard for him to trust others or accept aid without being subject to a price. Furthermore he has become more reclusive and lost much of his charisma.
Seen too much :Having lived so long means that he has experienced many wild and bizarre events that have left him jaded and he has also grown accustomed to witnessing acts of atrocity or kindness to a point where it barely registers with him on any emotional level. As he is rarely surprised or invested in events around him in his life (or lack there of) this has made him somewhat distant and apathetic to the people around him. He sometimes feels an acute sense of loneliness and wanderlust to seek out the fate of old friends and even old enemies which can easily distract him from his goals.
P e r s o n a l i t y
Cathrain has been worn down by centuries of existence and above all else epitomizes stoicism as he continues to survive in an ever shrinking and dangerous world for his kind. He is very patient and tolerant by nature. His emotional connection and empathy towards those he does not know personally is virtually non existent yet the occasional glimmer of heroism or anger has survived the years and he will on occasion help out others in need or in rarer cases lash out violently. He is wary of humans, especially those that are affiliated with the church and dislikes their agents in particular. He likes to think he is weary of fighting and warring but deep down knows he never feels more alive than when in battle. He does not judge people quickly and is slow to trust but is completely loyal to those that he does. He is a straight talker and does not bandy words without a good cause leading him to seem unapproachable despite his often polite demeanor.
H i s t o r y
Where it all began
Cathrain was born into a small pagan tribe on the island that would one day be named Britannia by its eventual invaders and conquerors. His early life was fairly standard as he helped tend the small herds of livestock, collecting firewood and general chores shared by the tribes children. He also trained to hunt and fight with a sword by his father. When he came of age he began to participate in the tribal skirmishes that often took place in the summer months. The years passed by and he married and children that in turn had children of their own, when he was 30 he had become the chief of the tribe by passing a trial of strength and endurance before being elected and anointed by the village elders and the druids. In his thirty fith year, rumours of a strange creature began to circulate through the nearby tribes. Tales told of a strange man clad in rags, moving by night and attacking anyone that strayed too far from the light of their fires. At first the stories were dismissed by many but eventually all within the tribes had become unsettled and many claimed to have spotted the creature. A moot was called among the local tribes and it was agreed that each would send two warriors to track and slay the creature.
Cathrain himself volunteered to lead the hunt and none of the other tribal chiefs protested, he was a capable warrior and should he fail the others would have one less skilled fighter to face during the war season. They spent five days walking at a hard pace, making sure to be well hidden before the sun had fully set. As the moon rose high and full on the evening of the sixth day they spotted the creature before lighting torches and charging it as a group. Cathrain was shocked to discover that the creature was in fact a feral man with long claw like nails and eyes that reflected eerily like mirrors in the light of the flames. the fighting was swift and brutal with three of the party killed and two wounded before Cathrain's cut to the creatures hamstring provided another warrior to deal the creature a killing blow. The swords and armour of the fallen were gathered (good iron and strong leather were two valuable to be burnt with the bodies). A hasty pyre was constructed whilst the feral mans body was left in a shallow grave unmarked grave.
Ten years later the creature reappeared and had become bolder, attacking entire families as they slept and draining them of blood. Though no longer young, Cathrain was determined to see the creature killed again and, first the group located the feral mans grave but instead found a small burial site. As they began digging they discovered the bodies of several families that had gone missing, each family in a different state of decay and in shallow graves as if left there to mock the hunters efforts. the next night the creature attacked without warning and only three warriors survived the battle with Cathrain himself piercing the monsters heart with his blade before cutting open his stomach. The body was this time buried deep and had a granite slab placed above the grave with chiseled runes provided by the druids to seal away the creatures evil spirit.
Nearly a decade passed and Cathrain had passed on his duties as chief to his son. his wife had died two years previously in a particularly harsh winter and he found himself often traversing the woods where he spent a great deal of time watching a small pack of wolves. At first they were very wary of hi presence but eventually grew to accept him so long as he did not draw to close. Occasionally one or two inquisitive pups would venture his way and Cathrain would play with them carefully so as not too seem a threat. He left the woods as the sun began to set and as he did most nights, looked in the direction where the monster was buried. As he approached the village the sound of wailing and shouts of outrage could be heard from the direction of his home. He arrived to find his sons family ripped apart and left in the street amongst the corpses of many villagers, the few survivors were worn and bloody, many of which in the throes of shock, rage or grief.
Cathrain retrieved his old sword from his sons dead hands before donning his armour and gathering several short throwing spears as well as his bow and a small quiver of precious arrows. He saddled a horse and rode hard into the night. In two days time he found the granite slabbed flipped onto its side and a small hole leading from the grave. He fell to his knees in a moment of despair, tears freely falling down his face and wondered what he had done to displease the gods that they would send such a allow creature to exist and torment him. As the sun began to set he became aware of a soft chuckling noise from the trees nearby, followed by the sound of tree bark being scratched by a blade or perhaps by claws. Cathrain considered letting the creature simply kill him but the thought brought forth a great rage upon him as he stood and faced the spreading darkness in the trees. As his shadow lengthened and dissapeared he drew his sword and screamed a rage filled war cry as the last rays of light were swallowed by the night.
Thinking back on that night, Cathrain remembers very little of the fight itself other than flashes of pain and the feel of his sword striking flesh, at some point the sword had fallen and he had been left to fight with a short throwing spear. His final recollection of that night was of a wheezing laugh and a sharp pain in his neck before feeling warmth spread down his shoulder as his body began to tremble and shake. the laughter became more clear and more cruel. He couldn't remember picking up the splintered shaft of the spear but with a final surge of strength he drove the wood into the creatures chest. The laughter stopped and he felt a moment of peace fall over him as the creature screamed, the scream gave him new strength and Cathrain found purchase on his sword and hacked the creatures head off in three rough and wild swings and was rewarded with a spray of warm blood across his face and tired arms. Finally he collapsed. When he next awoke he it was to a world of burning. The sun had begun to rise and single ray of beautiful light scorched his flesh an ugly red colour. in fear he ran to the grave and dove into the recently disturbed earth frantically clawing at the walls with a newfound strength he could not understand until there was only the cool darkness of the earth and blessed sleep. He didn't know how he knew the sun had gone down but he awoke and knew it was safe to leave the grave. He clawed his way out of the earth and beheld a world that was so familiar yet so different. He felt a deep, disturbing hunger and unknowingly took his first monumental steps as a vampire that would lead him to a world more vast than he could ever have imagined.
[Rest of the history is a WIP]
The Fall
A little over 300 years ago Cathrain found himself in a position of power and influence. After years of scheming and fighting he had cultivated his own vampire clan and as it grew in strength so did he grow prideful and arrogant, considering himself to be a true immortal he made enemies in all races believing in the superior strength of his clan and was often fighting. His hubris and arrogance made him dismissive of the steadily rising strength of his enemies until it was too late.]
T r i v i a & F u n S t u f f
♦ Cathrain currently travels with a large docile black wolf that he has raised from a pup.
♦ He likes to collect coins from years where particularly interesting things happened as keepsakes and to help him more accurately recall the vast passages of time.
♦ Surprisingly a good dancer (when not wearign armour or his sword caladbolg) and on rare occasion even sings (though he isnt very good at the latter)
♦ Cathrain used metal from a hundreds of small fallen stars that he had found/bought to forge his sword Caladbolg which with its strange black colouring earned Cathrain the nickname "Black fang" around 5 centuries ago.
gods whims. Though many dhampire children are born only a few from each generation surive the brutal trials and make it to adulthood. Thorne was one of the lucky, or perhaps unlucky few that survived to adulthood. He has been passed through the Grigori family's crucible, the final test where he was locked in a labyrinthian basement with a full blooded vampire and survive the night. The crucible left him with severe facial scarring and a deep rooted fear of vampires and his family.
