Death: After being discovered as an undercover agent, Ciaran was eventually tortured to death by Hellsing agents.Have you see the OVA or read the manga series of Hellsing? If so how far have you gotten? If not please direct your attention to YouTube, and watch OVA 1-4 at least. Warning: If you have watched the anime we require you watch the OVA, or read the manga. The anime is not canon. This is not our opinion. This is the law set down by the creator of Hellsing, Kouta Hirano....Old question this one...yes, yes I have
Name: Ciaran Raes
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Physical appearance: Ciaran has a slender frame, as opposed to the generally physical structure, his depends on reflexes and not the brutish and yet sluggish form that a body opposite that of his would provide. Though he doesn't have all that bulging muscle Ciaran still has his fair share of muscle in all the right places to suit his line of work. The muscles themselves woudn't be evident unless he was flexing that speecific muscle. His face is clean shaven and is frequently moderated to stay that way. He doesn't feel the use for a beard, neither does it provide any sort of bonus for him. His eyes are devoid of colour, though he isn't blind he is constantly mistaken so. While they can be devoid of colour, emotion or care, he can still express himself rather well with just his eyes its just a matter of situation. Ciaran's brown spiky mess that he calls hair comes just down past his ears and hangs loosely, more or less looking like a mould to all the bits n bobs around his head. His ears spike the hair up out the sides while it goes past his forehead with little or no resistance. Over the past years, Ciaran has recieved his fair share of scars, most of them being from gunshot wounds. His first and most noticeable scar is the one that carves along his back, laid open from left shoulder to right hip, Ciaran had been the victim of a well placed grenade. Another, from taking a bullet to his left shoulder. His last most noticeable scar is the one that made him aware of the supernatural world. The scar on his neck stretches from his lower jaw to his bare throat, the after product of a vampire's talon-like hands. Ciaran stands at 6"1', not being the tallest person neither the shortest, and weighing in with 164lbs.
Clothing of choice: Ciaran's attire befits and gets him recognised as a priest of Iscariot. The trademark coat sharing the emblem on his high collared version of it. The emblem, in black print on the outside of both sides of the collar while the lining of the coat is branded with silver. The coat a slight shade darker than the standard issue, Ciaran doesn't have trouble blending in when he needs to especially come night time, the shadows, his playground. Underneath the slender cloak tailor made for his frame, Ciaran wears a white, buttoned up shirt with a collar barely noticeable. While the shirt is constantly baring marks, whether they be from dirt or blood the coat takes the most beating. Sweeping the floor at ankle length, the coat does well to hide both his black slacks and his leather shoes. The slacks, being held up by a black leather belt with an intricate silver belt buckle, hang well past his ankle and rest in folds around his shoes. The shoes on the other hand, are italian made and don't hold any other nateable feature than the fact that they sit just under his ankle bone. Ciaran always has the comfort of a long-chained silver cross that is constantly bouncing off his chest when he moves.
Weaponry of choice: - Spoiler:
Ciaran's choice in weaponry leaves much to consider, though he is an amazing shot with a sniper he prefers a dagger in his hand. To be able to get in the opponents face and keep them there. His dual wielding blades sit at only 7 inches in length and have ornate handles. The handles were made without regard for the person wielding them, though Ciaran pays no mind to it it does discomfort him from time to time. Primarily ceremonial daggers, he has made good use of them what with eliminating vampires and the like. The blades, though made from many layers of steel, are lined with silver and blessed. The black sheathes are tailor made to fit the blades perfectly, they strap to Ciaran's right thigh and sit parallel to each other. Though he is always seen running around with these daggers, he is also notoriously known for his customized anti-material rifle use. The rifle is a single shot bolt action rifle, firing .50 calibur rounds with an optimal time of four second delays. The rounds are explosive and have likewise, along with the daggers, been inlaid with silver and blessed. The barrel is one meter in length, often seen fitted with a silencer befitting of the mission at hand. It has a standard issue scope that regularly sees use. The sniper is usually left at the place he is staying at unless his mission requires it.
Race: Human
Abilities: Courtesy of Iscariot's ever talked about training, Ciaran has been able to take his body to the next level, his body has reached its full potential. His speed and reflexes are the things that have benefitted him the most and have been the most successful, his strength however has recieved no bonus from his training with Iscariot. While he is able to think and react as fast as cat.d vampire, his upper body strength is still that of an average human. What he lacks in strength he sure makes up for in speed, one moment he'll be there, the next he'll be either too far away or right up in your face. Though he can only maintain this speed for a few minutes (2posts, cooldown of 2 posts) he makes good use of those precious minutes. Apart from Ciaran's amazing athletic abilities, bordering supernatural, he is an amazing crackshot who can count how many times he's missed on one hand. Before the shot is taken his whole body devotes itself to slowing the moment, his brain borders on shutting down for the sheer amount of effort and devotion he puts into making a shot. Ciaran also has the capabilities and the experience in street running, commonly referred to as parkour.
Organization: The Vatican Section 13 Iscariot
Personality: Ciaran is a somewhat laid back person, though he can take things seriously in dire times, he has trouble keeping his bored thoughts to himself. He will remained focused on the mission objective but will always make that sly remark leading you to believe he either isn't paying attention or taking this seriously. Usually not being the case, but he does treat almost everything like a tiresome game. A qwerky habit he has had since birth, Ciaran can sometime be known to fall asleep whenever or wherever he sits down, if he has a place to rest his head he will take the opportunity. The only clause to this habit is when he is in the presence of either Anderson or Enrico. He never has had a relationship other than to the one owing to Anderson for raising him in the orphanage. His relationships fall to a dead end there, he never has and probably never will feel the need to engage himself in such a way. He can take a laugh but frequently avoids such expression of emotions, he views emotions as a trivial thing and fittingly never sparks a reason for such and tries to never react, ultimately failing. There is one side effect to all this containment of emotions though, he often has outbursts which may vary from random laughter or enraged fighting. Ciaran can be overall seen as a lazy person with much potential left in him.
Rank: Priest
Biography: Ciaran had been born in Ukraine, 1980, a quite wealthy family considering his mother's inheritance from her wealthy father who had recnetly passed away and that his father was a scientist. No thanks to the location Ciaran adopted a somewhat strong, russian accent. Come the age of six, his father died in a nuclear reactor incident which would become known as the Chernobyl disaster, a visitor to the site, his father died in the explosion. With no body to recover, his mother simply told Ciaran that his father woudn't be coming home. They moved to Italy, the only reason for their living there having been for his father's work. A one sided relationship, Ciaran adored his mother and followed her wherever she went, with no benefitting reason to keep Ciaran, his mother dumped him in Father Alexander's orphanage six weeks after his father's death and left without so much as a glance back. As a mindless six year old, Ciaran had no idea what just happened, only the fact that his mother had left him and his father had died. He often cried himself to sleep but at the age of eight, everything stopped, he devoted every hour and waking moment to his god. It gave him hope, something to cling to in the emptiness that was his life.
While he had that one thing to cling to he didn't mind all the other details, such as the fact that he was being groomed to kill vampires, demons and things unnatural. He come to see alot of the people withing the organisation as a permanent in his life, though he would never admit it to himself or any other soul for that matter. He was a quite kid and didn't talk to many people apart from when it was needed. He went another twelve years with much the same growing up, he would do his prayers, go to his training which included minor tasks such as sparring or obstacle courses. He grew minor relationships during those twelve years, but none that would keep him from losing his faith during an incident on a minor mission. On 1998, Ciaran with his newly aquired daggers (iscariot armory), went on a mission with two other members, being trusted to take out a roaming category F ranked vampire. It had been terrorizing random homes in a need to constantly feed. A fledgeling, it woudn't take much to kill it.
Or so he thought when he was given his objectives. They all went to the remains of a warehouse, the last known location of the vampire. Ciaran was shifty that night, he told the others he felt as though the damned beast was watching them, they, were too confident. That night, Ciaran murdered a civilian. Once they had gone into the warehouse, they had seen nothing and when Ciaran turned to check more thoroughly he'd had a gun pointed in his face. The 'mugger' had chosen the wrong time, Ciaran's instincts dug in, blades in hand, he carved the guy up. Once he realised it wasn't the vampire he had fled, leaving his comrades behind. He disappeared for five years on end, killing minor vampires in an attempt to save all lives he could. One vampire dead, dozens of lives would survive. Now the year being 2003, he is in the process of returning to find if they still have a place for him among their ranks and/or he would be forgiven for such sins. (I always was bad at biographies...)
RP sample:Ciaran nodded his consent, sitting atop the edge of the bridge. The bridge itself being approximately 20 metres in height, Ciaran still had no trouble seeing the person he was addressing.
And you had to pick this one didn't you? Ciaran had left Keith with the task of finding their next vampire to hunt. He was an excellent tactics specialist and tracker, not that Ciaran was a bad tracker...it was Keith's turn after all. Eyeing up their prey, it looked to be one of the 'mockers', so Ciaran and Keith had come up with their own names for specific vampires. The 'mockers' so fittingly named believed themselves a cut above the rest. They liked to laugh and take humour in any sort of fighting situation. Keith put his thumbs up at Ciaran's ackowledgement and moved along the alleyway, in pursuit of the other being walking parallel and whistling a lively tune.
Come on just a little... whispered under his breath. Ciaran heard the gunshot, it was way too early, his blood ran cold. His eyes searching for the source, his eyes ran from the vampire to Keith who lay holding his shoulder. With a figure standing over him with a gun, the gun which would fire again and take his partner's life.
The vampire, having realised his situation was staring at Ciaran with an open mouthed grin.
Bastard... Ciaran dropped from his perch, his blades already free from their sheathes.
A little late for a night walk don't you think father? Ciaran hit the ground with a roll and streaked off towards the figure like a gunshot. He knew the vampire was going to strike out, the question was when. The answer was right in front of his face within a few seconds, adrenaline pumping, Ciaran put a blade through his neck withdrew and ran past him in the same heartbeat. The gunshot was already put through Keith's head before Ciran had the chance to get free from the vampire. He felt the all to familiar roaring in his ears blocking any sound that he would have otherwise heard. His eyes looked vacant for a few moments. The vampire's laughter rang out with a slight gurgle to it, his neck mostly healed already. The figure looked up at him with a slight grin as his hood fell back to reveal fangs.
Two... The next gunshot flew by Ciaran's head, effectively waking him up to his situation. He blinked a couple of times before his daggers made themselves known in his hands and he started to move in retaliation. He was grabbed by the back of his coat and pulled from his feet, Ciaran maintained his sense of gravity and provided no resistance at all. He went with the backward motion and flipped back to his feet. The 'mocker' didn't expect it and recieved a blade in the eye to show for it. The blood and the scream threw outwards and hit the alleyway walls echoing and quiteing the rest of the abandoned area. Ciaran withdrew the blade same as before but this time his wrist was caught by a second hand. His partner's killer was up in his face his other fist already heading toward Ciaran's gut. Jumping above the blow, he used the vampire's hold on him to flip over him, Ciaran landed in pain as his arm was twisted but he ignored it. This time he woudn't give glancing blows. Two seconds later he jumped from the vampire who had a silver blade through his chest. The other vampire, no where to be seen.
Father, must it always come to such physical confrontations? Ciaran jumped at the sudden sound from far above, it was on the bridge.
You're going to run eh? Ciaran was already exhausted with what energy he had expelled, he looked toward the other vampire who lay holding the blade in his chest. Retrieving it, Ciaran twisted it free in a spray of blood.
A little earleh to start ronnin don't you zink vampeer? The vampire's grin faded,
Running? you tink I'm...running? the vampire's laughter rang out not the first time tonight.
Doubtful The vampire drew a pistol and started taking shots at Ciaran. His aim was true, a bullet tore through Ciaran's shoulder before he had the chance to dodge the second bullet. The ground being sprayed with bullets, Ciaran had no choice but to keep running. Under the bridge he was free from the bullets, the vampire however had other ideas.
The predator hiding huh? Quite pathetic... his vision went black as something hit the back of his head. (still working on the accent thing)
Subject: Ciaran Raes (Death by torture) 
