OEDAI; kieran caine

kieran caine oedai

• almost easy by sevenfold •

•• USERNAME ;; cleo
•• GENDER ;; female
•• AGE ;; sixteen
•• CONTACT ;; aim or pm
•• EXPERIENCE ;; ten-ish
•• PASSWORD ;; 2 kool 4 skool
•• OTHER CHARACTERS ;; none yet

•• FULL NAME ;; kieran caine oedai
•• NICKNAME ;;
•• AGE ;; written out
•• BIRTHDAY ;;
•• GENDER ;; female or male
•• SEXUALITY ;; heterosexual, bisexual, etc.
•• PROFESSION ;;
•• SPECIES ;;
•• ABILITY ;;

•• PLAYBY ;; your character's lookalike
•• ETHNICITY ;; caucasian, french, german, etc.
•• COMPLEXION ;; pale, tan, dark, etc.
•• HEIGHT ;; in feet
•• WEIGHT ;; in pounds
•• BODY TYPE ;; slender, muscular, tall, fat, etc.
•• HAIR COLOR ;;
•• EYE COLOR ;;
•• SCARS ;;
•• BODY ART ;; tattoos, piercings, etc.

•• OVERALL PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION ;;

kieran is handsome. it is one undeniable truth about him and, perhaps, the only charm going for him. dark brown hair that seems more black then its actually color, especially in dark lighting, kept short and, for the most part, kempt, he is tall with a fairly muscular frame to boot. six foot three, and a hundred ninety five pounds of muscle and broad-shouldered width, falling into slim hips. he has a strong jaw and very demanding features, but it is his eyes that are so enchanting. a little blue color, pale enough to almost be considered blind, and surrounded by a thick band of navy, they are the only source of telling what the strange man is feeling. anger, they often turn red, bleeding slowly like a drop of color into a cup of water. it is not a very noticeable change, subtle, until it is as scarlet as the blood itself, and it is a very dangerous anger that brings on this effect.

he is intimidating, and this is certainly no lie. there constantly seems to be a cold, prickly aura to him - that is, if you are stupid enough to get close enough. his skin often seems a bit too cold to the touch, only a tad under the normal temperature, either that or a tad over. he never seems to be at the perfect heat. he is confident in every way, and shows it in the way he walks and talks, and is the essence of male pride and arrogance. there is constantly an aura around him that reeks of danger and promises of lustful things, and kieran is not ashamed to be blatant towards a woman he wants. he is, by nature, blunt, impulsive, and rash, and this shows in the little movements he makes and the habits he has obtained. when he smiles, it finishes the handsome visage of the man. overall, he is not someone easily approached. if the cold air around him is not enough to warn someone off, then his habits when standing still - clenching and unclenching his fists, shifting, his body constantly tensed as if expecting an attack - certainly will. his fangs are something else to take note of. they are not something he often tries to hide and, because he grins and laughs often, they often flash, sharp and glistening white, a dangerous reminder of what he really is. even when his mouth is closed, it is not wise to forget what he really is.

•• STRENGTHS ;; list at least 5
•• WEAKNESSES ;; list at least 5
•• LIKES ;; list at least 5
•• DISLIKES ;; list at least 5
•• AMBITIONS ;; list at least 3
•• FEARS ;; list at least 3
•• SECRETS ;; list at least 1

•• PERSONALITY ;;

at least 200 words long describing your character's personality; what he or she is like, how he or she acts in certain situations, etc.

•• HOMETOWN ;;
•• ACCENT ;;
•• LANGUAGES ;; what can your character speak, write, or read
•• WEALTH ;;
•• RESIDENCE ;; where and what (mansion, apartment, etc.)
•• MOTHER ;; name, age, occupation, and if dead, say deceased
•• FATHER ;; name, age, occupation, and if dead, say deceased
•• SIBLINGS ;; name, age, and if dead, say deceased
•• EXTENDED FAMILY ;; uncles, aunts, or other people of importance
•• PETS ;; name and species

•• HISTORY ;;

BEFORE. kieran was born like any kid - to a mother and father. human, is perhaps the best phrase to add here. he doesn't remember much of it - that which he does is fuzzy, blurred by time and impossible to recall. he knows, however, that his father was the demanding sort. wanted only the best in his son, and if he didn't get what he wanted, well... it was not good. kieran, however, managed to make his father very proud. he was a powerful for a human, strong. he was out on a hunt when the meteor struck, leading it, so it was. he broke off from the others and was cut off. when he couldn't find his way back, he didn't worry, until a sudden light made it impossible for him to see. he pressed against a tree. the meteor only missed him by a few feet at best, throwing him back. the tree it had crashed into fell and landed on his leg. he was able to get away somewhat , unpin himself, before he passe dout from the overwhelming pain.

THE BEGINNING OF THE DESCENT. he woke in a clearing, sprawled out, his head tilted back as if an offering to the world. the grass beneath him was dead, the light blinding and making it impossible to lift his eyelids more then a bit. dripping blood. unable to stand. weak. his mind was fresh as a babe's, unable to comprehend anything, and that damned blinding light that kept him from looking at what was around him. he crawled into the shadows of a cave to lick his wounds, and come nightfall, stumbled out on legs that could barely hold him. there was a terrible pounding in his skull, and walking hurt the soles of his feet. he didn't know how long he had lain there asleep, unconscious, but it had been long enough that the bruises he'd earned when he'd been thrown back had faded to a yellowish color, and some slices had scarred. it was his back that hurt the most, and yet he didn't dare look.

during this time, he often had violent flashes between his demon form and human form, and keeping control of one over the other for extended periods of time was taxing and tiring and he often would have to sleep or rest in some way to ease the ache in his head and the tired crookedness to his shoulders. he didn't go in search of people or civilization, not yet. his mind was still sorting through everything, and he was still trying to decide exactly what happened to him. occasionally, he would glimpse flashes of either the Void, or of lifetimes passed, or so he assumed, but he found he rarely had to eat and rested much less then the humans he would sometimes to watch when boredom over-took him and he would have very little to do. it was a time of expanding, of discovering what it was he could do, the things he was capable of. he flexed his abilities and his control over his fiendish form and his human one, testing everything carefully, cautiously, afraid he would set something off. all the while, his mind worked overtime to process all the information that had been dumped into it since that moment he had woken in the field.

he didn't speak, except in a strange tongue that was heavy on his lips and difficult to say unless he was in his fiendish formd. for the most part, he was silent. alone. quietly watching from the sidelines. he was a good thousand years before he got the first real grip, the first real taste of power, and before he had a tight enough hold on his abilities to venture into the human world with a cautious care. he was forcibly pushed into, in fact. attacked in the woods and bleeding from all his wounds, he stumbled into a small civilization, collapsed on the dirt floor, and when he woke, there was a beautiful red head hovering over him with some kind of care in her eyes and the worry evident.

he could tell, feel, the difference in her more then anything else. that she was like him. she cared for him. tended to his wounds and helped the healing process. they often talked, casually, during this time and he learned much about her. he was much more fiendish during this time then human, but he always seemed calmer, more collected, his temper cooler, whenever she was around, and he curbed most of his impulses. he was curious about her, to say the least. the creature that she was. previously, he had not known that there were more species out there besides what he was - as he'd already come to the conclusion that he was not human - but he quickly began to figure the workings going on. he did not show himself to humans. he did not do anything to give himself away... which was a problem, as extreme fits of anger triggered the blue skin, the icy eyes, the huge wings that extended from his back in a beautifully gruesome display. he stayed hidden away from the people, only talking to them and reacting when it was necessary. he stuck to the shadows often during this time.

but he only stayed so long before he up and fled, a good two years or so, everything about the world then strange and foreign. he was unable to cope well with it, and stumbled gracelessly into a fake life as a human, knowing he was not one.

THE STAIRWAY TO MADNESS. it was during his time as a human that things began to... well, take a turn for the worse. he quickly grew bored with everything that was going on. it was the same thing, the same wars, the same fights going on and on, only repeating themselves as time slowly stretched along. he began to become curious at what he could actually do. he was nearly two millennia old and he was ignorant of who and what he was. the first thousand years inside the prison had taken a toll on his body, and now that he was recovering and finding himself stronger and more suited to care for himself, he found he learned things very quickly. he picked up on languages and skills fast and soon exhausted those choices of hobbies. it was not long before he began to look at himself, his odd way of coming to, with curiosity. for awhile, he did experiments on himself to see what would cause the changes to come on. slicing open his wrists, cutting himself up, spilling his blood easily open the floor without so much as flinching. he had a higher pain tolerance then humans and found that he healed quicker then them.

among that, he found manipulation of shadows was also easy. he could solidify them or create hulking beasts, and often hunted using this, to stretch it and see the lengths it would go. they could wrap around him, make him disappear like a blanket of shadows. the ability to morph into a large black wolf, which would later develop into the stories of fenrir and loki, and electrokinesis. there were more, but none he enjoyed more then these three. the third he did not work as much as the others, but more then most of those that he discovered, and he found that the dancing blue lights between his fingers was good for boredom. he soon had a good, solid grip on them and, after several centuries of practice, could control them well enough. he continued to hone them, wanting something for protection so he was no longer as defenseless in a world he knew little about. training ended and he moved onto bigger practices, testing the limits of his abilities. It was by complete accident that someone from the village he'd resided in found him that evening. screaming bloody murder and fleeing through the streets, she called upon every able-bodied soldier to come and defeat the demonic presence in the forest. and they came. oh, did they. he hadn't realized she was there, had been too immersed, so when he was attacked from behind and a sharp blade protruded from his stomach, he was stunned. his body, the fiendish part, that is, instantly went into a sort of hibernation mode and slid into itself, shutting down just about everything save his lungs and heart. he fell unconscious.

when he awoke, he was tied to a stake, someone standing before him in the darkness holding a torch that drew the shadows across their faces. he was not well-versed strong enough to use his abilities yet, as he found they taxed his strength fast, and he had not stretched them enough to have a large amount of endurance. with the wound in his stomach and now several others from, what he was guessing, was stones being thrown at him, he could barely move without pain shooting through his body. they touched the torch to the wood. the fire flared up and he stared at it, not afraid... but feeling a sort of madness that comes with the reality that you are utterly insane.

in that moment, he figured it was better to die then. he did not fit in the world, was not of it, had come from complete blackness and nothingness into what had been the modern world against mother nature's commands. although she'd eventually come to embrace him, the humans had not and never would, and he realized this is the flames crackle and touched his feet. he didn't feel the pain. then she was there, as she tended to be in situations where he needed help, and he only watched her expressionlessly as she helped him. chaos ensued. he could barely move, let alone run, and he tried to tell her, several times. she refused. but they were eventually split up by the crowds chasing after them, and he stumbled into the forest, having to stop every few feet to catch himself on the trunks of the trees. he watched as his skin rippled and tinted blue and then returned, as if his body was struggling to return to its natural state before he died. then he collapsed on the muddy, sodden ground and fell back into the blackness he had become so used to.

THE DEATH OF THE SANE. it was quiet when he woke up and dark. the faint pulses of charge from the veins that stood out abundantly clear in his arms, bare chest, and up his neck lit up the little space, but it was not much. he was not chained this time. he never really understood this place, though he had spent so much time in it during the beginning of his life, when he had been like a babe in a womb, and now when he was nearing death. his heart beat had slowed and the wings that usually lifted clear above his head in a magnificent display of strength were tucked up close to his body to help ease some warmth into his chilled frame. he was shivering faintly, and as he eased his eyelids up and the piercing ice blue shattered the quiet darkness of the space he resided in, he found he could see. not much, just faint outlines of things, the rocky ground which was hard to move around least something trip you. this was odd, as he'd never had trouble seeing in the dark. that was his last conscious thought that made any sort of sense. eventually, he fell back into a slumber.

when he eased himself awake the second time, he was in the forest where he'd been after the encounter with amaria. his wounds were mostly healed, and although he was dirty and bedraggled, there was not too much damage to his person. for awhile afterwards, he searched for amaria, until he got wind of what had happened afterwards and that the mob had been far too big to escape. using pieces of the puzzle and putting them together slowly, he figured out the amaria had, in fact, been killed in all the chaos. he was sad at first. angry, certainly. he went back to the village and razed it to the ground, walking away bloody without so much as blinking. for a long while, anyone who tried to speak to him would feel this magnificent force of anger, and a cold wall of threat simply for standing in his presence. it was many years before he managed to calm himself enough to reventure back into society, but same as before, he only lasted awhile before boredom got the best of him and he started to do other things.

once again, he fell back on his powers. this time, he was less afraid of what he was. he found being in his fiend form opened up new doors to these abilities that he used and made the stretching of it much easier. exhaustion was slower to come. yet, it was during these years that he became more reclusive, turning back into himself as opposed to venturing out and studying the cultures of the world as he enjoyed doing. often, he reverted to a different form, a separate form - who, in lore, would later be named as fenrir. as far as the myths went, they were correct in describing him. a massive black wolf, the danger of simply watching him. it was all perfectly on the mark. he resided outside a small town, in the woods, and over-time built up stories of those who had disappeared in that forest over lengths of time. some were true, some weren't. he did not shy away from killing those he thought deserved it or... well, simply for the fun of it.

he especially enjoyed killing the humans. they irritated him relentlessly, simply by being in his presence. he attributed this to the fact that they had been the reason he was stuck in a world that didn't want him, living lives that meant nothing and doing whatever he could not to simply take his own life out of boredom. he was always very matter-of-fact about death, and killing with lots of blood and gore was fun some days, and other days he simply made a clean, swift end. he was never one for much torture.

when he finally changed back to a human, it was entering the norse era and he became interested in the myths and legends going on. he soon found he had made the pages, and was incredibly pleased by this - but it was another god, not the one he had been dubbed, that grabbed his attention. loki. the mischievous, playful god. one who was constantly underestimated but so often the true enemy in so many situations. sleeping into the role was easy and painless. delightful, even. he became attracted to a certain sort of danger. the knife-at-the-throat kind, the taunting of death, living on the very edge. the sort of term that humans did not understand but used anyway. when his era as a god, as the powerful god of mischief, ended, however, he attracted the attention of the hunters once more.

not as modern, but still as intelligent, they managed to capture him. no longer a weak whelpling any longer, they only managed to keep him caged with blood loss. he was constantly dizzy if he moved too fast, and he couldn't switch separate forms. even his electrokinesis and aphotickinesis was off. the blue light would only flicker and sizzle in his palm for a second, and the shadows reached towards him helplessly but couldn't quite touch. he was angry. very. the chained him to a chair and tortured him for years. the entire time, they kept him bleeding. underfed, undernourished. they tested on him, prodded at him, debated ways to kill him, trying to see what worked and what did not. they discovered his heightened senses, but not much beyond that. after all, he didn't have the energy for any of his abilities, and not for switching into his fiend form. teleporting to the void, however, crossed his mind more then once, but he figured he couldn't make it. that it had been chance the last few times.

it wasn't until the managed to truly anger him that things turned bad.

they'd kept him caged in a dark room, the sound of dripping evident, chains on his wrist and feet. they weren't necessary often. he couldn't move from the slices all over his body that made sure he would bleed out should he try anything. he never spoke to his captors. would not lift his head to even address them when they came in, although his eyelids would lift and he would glower dangerously in their direction. there were multitudes of scars across his body. but they made a mistake. they thought he was too weak to do anything any more, that they had bled him out. and they stopped inflicting the wounds that kept him still and controlled, like a semi-tamed animal.

the decision was their very last. the chains dissolved beneath his hands, rotting away to nothing. he had plenty he needed to pay them back for, and it started with the man who had come down to see how well he was faring. not because they cared, because they were curious. the man died screaming, beneath the angry fiend's hands as his skin corroded away and blood spewed from his body like a fountain. the next man was not any more lucky. fangs were sunk in his jugular, his throat ripped out and just about every bone in his body broken. viciously, relentlessly, mercilessly, he tore through each room, not even bothering to hide his heavy boot steps and his heavy breathing. when he was finished, he blew the place apart, calling lightning from the sky to strike it over and over until it was destroyed in a shower of sparks and a fire lit, eating away at the dry wood. it was a beautiful sight for a man who had been locked inside for so long. for a man who had long gone insane.

THE SECOND LOVE. following the incident at his nightmarish prison, a very dark version of kieran began to show itself. he killed anyone he came across, in a very bloody way. the most torturous he could think of. sometime he devoured their skin, his fangs sinking into their flesh easily, tearing and ripping it apart. other times, he dipped his hands in their blood and clawed it across the ways, the floor, taking apart their bodies and spreading the pieces apart in different places. he was, for lack of a better term, crazy. he started fires, tore apart families, caused general havoc wherever he went. the harmless mischief in which he casually had indulged in as a younger fiend disappeared, and a much dangerous part of him exploded in all its snarling glory.

one day, he came across a town being raided. destruction that was not of his making, he stood by and watched curiously, dispassionately, as screams rent the air and cries for mercy came and went. from the woods where he hid, he saw a young woman come running, little toddlers at her side and gripping her long skirts. she looked terrified as she attempted to escape what was surely her fate. what first caught kieran's eye, however, was that she was beautiful. in the most fascinating way. she was not moving fast enough with the young ones gripping her legs to get away, and he knew she wouldn't just abandon them as he thought she should. without thinking it through, he killed her pursuers - a tall, bulky man - with a single strike of electricity that immediately halted his heart. the woman didn't seem to realize what had happened.

she slid into the woods and disappeared, although her footsteps were heavy and loud and he easily tracked her until she stopped by a stream quite a long ways from where she had left. dropping to her knees, she cupped her hands and was prepared to begin drinking the clean water when she lifted her head and began searching the area around her. he knew she wouldn't be able to see him, he was well hidden, wrapped in his cloak of shadows, but she sensed something and it was enough to put him on his guard.

a few years later, kieran re-entered the scene. mostly, this was just for her benefit. he wanted to meet her. he was enamored. it was a short and torrid affair for her before the two were married. kieran not once gave a hint as to what he actually was, although she was curious when he sometimes could do things he certainly shouldn't be able to.

it was doomed to end badly, and it did. around this time, kieran came into some newer powers which surprised him. he didn't know how to control them. this was, particularly, his corrosion. he didn't realize what he was doing or that it was even him doing it until she was already nearly dead. he left, fast, unable to exactly comprehend what had happened. he was weak, then, too wound up in himself that he didn't realize what was happening until his blood was already spilling onto the floor and the chains were rattling as they were slipped onto his wrists. they didn't know that wouldn't hold him back at all - except that he was already loose blood, fast. they'd cut an artery on his neck, and a puddle was forming on the floor. he pressed his hands to it, his chest slick.

they took him somewhere dark and deserted. his memories of it are fuzzy, but what happened there is not. for six years, they cut into him, tested how long he could stand certain things. they whipped him, sliced him up, again and again, the agony nearly unbearable. they did not do it enough that he would pass out and be allowed even a moment of sweet mercy - and he was kept caged, locked up, bled out, unable to do anything except stare angrily. his temper, once again, reached a boiling point, when they slid a knife into his heart and waited for the moment of death. the place exploded, a fire crackling as lightning from the sky shot down over and over again, striking humans and trees. soon, a forest fire raged, and he lay in the tattered remains of where they had kept him, dying on the floor as he bled slowly, unconscious.

it was the last straw. following the devastation, he killed everyone in the nearby towns and found he was on an island. that was the only thing that kept him from possibly completing more havoc. he burned everything, lit it on fire with electricity and watched as it burned. when everything was scarred and black, he ventured into the mainland and found himself a home somewhere in the soil. there, he lay until the meteor struck again.

it was what woke him up - and although many of his impulses for distraction are curbed, those who meet him are not completely oblivious to how little sanity he has left.