Post by Caelan Montgomery on Sept 14, 2011 12:09:36 GMT -7
MONTGOMERY, CAELAN JAMES
“WHOEVER BATTLES WITH MONSTERS HAD BETTER SEE THAT IT DOES NOT TURN HIM INTO A MONSTER. AND IF YOU GAZE LONG INTO THE ABYSS, THE ABYSS WILL GAZE BACK INTO YOU.”[/font][/center]
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The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with caution.
- Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone[/color][/size]
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[/center]FULL NAME. Caelan James Montgomery
NICKNAMES. Cael
BIRTHDATE. October 30th
AGE Eighteen
BLOOD Pureblood
POSITION DESIRED Death Eater
CANON OR ORIGINAL? original (with a canon surname)
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It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.
- Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets[/color][/size]
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[/center]HAIR&EYES His eyes are quick to judge, that harsh and cold blue has trapped intense scrutiny within them like dangerous broken glass. His gaze is caustic with all the intimidation of a snake's stare. His dark hair is worn cropped, shaved short at the sides to emphasis some style of a Mohawk without being petrified, as if a lazy black flame grows from the crown of his head.
HEIGHT&WEIGHT A slender 6' 0" with a graffiti body weighing in at 165lbs.
FACE CLAIM Ashley Stymest
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I don’t go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me.
- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban [/color][/size]
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[/center]WAND 11" Blackthorn wood :: Thestral hair core :: Unyielding
LIKES
- Magic, of course, but the more entertaining kind of magic. The kind of magic that makes people squirm. The kind of magic that makes people scream.
- Being hated. Its just as close to being loved.
- "Us" as opposed to "Them"
- Those odd moments with the inner circle, enjoying each other's company and inside jokes.
- Calculating and making judgement
- Pain
- Darkness
DISLIKES
- The mild
- The bubbly
- The unresponsive
- The fake
- The conservative
- The idiotic
- Them. They know who they are...
BOGGART Being the last one left. Alive? Standing? Involved? This is not yet clear. Though he has no qualms with being alone, the true sense of absolute, hopeless loneliness is abhorrent to him.
MIRROR OF ERISED When he looks into the mirror's surface, he sees himself standing at the mouth of the Montgomery grounds with an ocean of blood at his feet. Knelt before him in service and submission is Araceli Lazarus, whose wigs have been ripped from his back, feathers stained red. Such a sight always puts a smile on Caelan's face.
PATRONUS Eurasian Lynx (the Lynx lynx), a hunter species. Quick, intelligent, ruthless.
PERSONALITY His smile is cruel. There isn't any warmth in those eyes. His words lack kindness and his disposition lacks any caring. Perhaps that it is the core of his unyielding cruelness, he just doesn't care enough to have a heart. He takes pleasure in making other people uncomfortable, at the very least with extremes going as far as various forms of torture. Call him a bully, to be frank.
Very seldom is he patient enough to get to know a person to the point he discovers whether or not he really likes them. Those not under his scrutiny are looked upon as part of his inner circle, someone he can interact with minus cringing, resentment, and or murderous intent. These people are exposed to his unorthodox kindness, like that of kindred individuals whom found each other in a flaming needle stack. These people are given his companionship, protection, and laughter. These are the people who would know he is a parcelmouth for he would tell no one else and thus no one else should ever know.
However, being crossed, hurt, back-stabbed, or angered at a certain extreme is cause for him to cut ties, even with the closest of friends. He's prideful and its hard for him to forgive and its hard for him to apologize.
Beyond that of companionship, them, those he doesn't particularly like are more likely exposed to his rather poisonous and ruthless disposition. He is liable to prey upon people for entertainment or get back at people with a raging hell fire. He hates you, you know. On worse days, he hates you for breathing.
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Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.
- Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire[/color][/size]
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BIRTHPLACE Yorkshire, England
CHILDREN Galen Cain Montgomery :: Currently Un-conceived
PARENTS
SIBLINGS Brother ::: Patrick Samuel Montgomery ::: 21 ::: Slytherin Alumni ::: Deceased
OTHER THE MONTGOMERY FAMILY
HISTORY Caelan was born in rural Yorkshire and lived there all up until he was six years old before he and his family moved to the city of Sheffield. He was exposed to dark magic at a very early age and was familiar with how cruel magic can be. He watched his mother slowly go insane from its uses as she grew to yearn more and more for days since past. It was no secret in the Montgomery home that mummy and daddy were Death Eaters. Their two boys were forever curious about it, enraptured by their dark and secret little world of chaos and mayhem.
Adopting the ever present craving for power and domination, he grew to be that of a menace in the city of Sheffield. His indifference for mortals soon became a discontent with the fact that he, as a wizard, had to hide away his true self like a shameful secret; thus sharing similar views with the Dark Lord himself, like many of his followers.
At the age of thirteen, he lost his brother to something as common and mortal as a car. This only fueled his growing hatred for muggles and he blamed them for the loss of his brother. Many different trials of life molded and shaped him to be the delinquent he is today.
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Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.
- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban[/color][/size]
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[/center]NAME/ALIAS Jae
OTHER CHARACTERS Aiji Carrington, Aaron Jae Beom, Aeolus Serafiem, Dragos Constantin
RP EXPERIENCE? 7+ years
RP SAMPLE. ::A Calling from Abyss City
Shuffling through the door, Armani reached out and swiped his fingers along the wall, simultaneously flicking the light switch that illuminated the apartment with fluorescence. To the table at his right, he dropped his keys into a metal bowl and continued on, ignoring his reflection in the mirror above it. He didn’t bother to hang his jacket on a hook inside the closet but rather slung it over the face of a ceramic gold plated statue of Shiva. He’d bartered it from a seedy merchant in the inner city in exchange for his life. Since acquiring it, however, he wasn’t so kind to it much to Shiva’s displeasure.
Ducking beneath the lintel of the entryway, he stepped into the minimalist white, gray and black of the living room and felt Pearl’s small, soft body press against his leg with an affectionate purr from her lips. Sighing, he bent down and scooped her up, pressing his lips to her furry white neck.
“Evening, princess. Hungry?”
Pearl mewled in reply and Armani nodded, turning towards the kitchen area where he sat her down upon the gray tiles. Thick metal cupboards lined the wall, matching the refrigerator he stopped before. He grabbed the black handle and yanked it open to cases of beer and bottles of dark red liquid. Plucking a half empty bottle from the collective, he shut the fridge door and grabbed an empty bowl from the dish rack by the sink, then poured about a half of it and sat it before Pearl whose sandy tongue dashed out to it thirstily.
Armani took the bottle with him and slugged what remained as he crossed through the living room to the bedroom area that resided in the shadows where light was not permitted. It was separated by traditional Japanese dividers that he’d lifted from some nondescript display window in town. He toed out of his boots, sat the empty bottle aside on the night stand and sank into the black satin dressed mattress. His hands came over his tired eyes and upturned lips with a sigh, and then he turned and reached over the cold, pale, stiffened body of his early evening catch. Her dull blue eyes were directed aimlessly to the window framing the view of the trashier, grittier, shameless side of the city’s glimmering bosom. In the drawer to her left he retrieved a pack of cigarettes to sate the nostalgic urge to enact a human addiction he once knew, a minor demon of his past life.
The Zippo from his pocket was used to light the crisply cut edge of the dried, rolled, processed product and as he inhaled, he laid his head back upon the hip of the nameless woman. The blood stains on his shirt were still wet and deep red, but they weren’t the stains of a mortal and the one responsible was now scattered in pieces with the city trash. He sighed at the thought, still having no patience for the traitor even though he was now thoroughly dismembered. He knew his troubles were still not over. He had to find a new recruit, one that would not disappoint him by breaking the rules and flaring his rage to a murderous roar. Someone Leviathan worthy…but where among the scum of these filthy streets could be found such a talent?
HOW DID YOU FIND OUR SITE? A friend
CODE WORD? Cadence
RIP