Cyrus has spent most of his life running and evading detection, he is very smart and his elusiveness is one of his greatest aspects. Too many times has a hunter thought he has won to find Cyrus’ teeth about his throat. Cyrus has no illusions of what he is. He is not human and cares very little about gaining any form of humanity as it stands. Most people he has encountered have tried to kill him on sight.
Cyrus prefers to feed on those that cause fear, as their fear seems to taste better to him. Also most people don’t care when a particularly bad person goes missing. In the modern day he prefers to stalk prisons or even mafia houses.
Cyrus has gained a particular hatred for vampires upon their intrusion into claiming his domain. In the modern world they are seen as the creatures of the night. What his race was nearly extinct for vampires have gained a form of pop culture and appraisal. Though he rarely kills a vampire he enjoys messing with their night and reminding them of their place in the shadows.
Cyrus has lost any family he cared to consider close to him. Though Cyrus can enjoy the company of others he often holds them at arm’s length especially if they are human. He does not wish to experience lose again and has a hard time trusting that a close friendship could really stand the test of time. This often makes him argumentative in conversation rather than supportive, preferring a debate over a serious discussion on emotion.
Cyrus has created a safety net of being a monster and has let it get to his head. Though he truly yearns for a life beyond feeding he finds it easier to play the role of the Haunt as opposed to friend. He is not necessarily evil but will think little of staying from the path of good to support his beliefs in what he is. This is something however that Cyrus is not consciously aware of. It has helped him deal with being hunted for so long.
Cyrus comes off as cocky and incredibly confident, he is old and he is experienced. However under it all he is weighed down by the need to find a purpose in life other than to simply survive. He has become tired of running and feels a need break free. He wonders of his future, and if he will ever find others of his kind, or just a place to call home.
Cyrus’ personality had stayed intact but his control over it had become shattered. He was almost split and one might say he was a different creature from one moment to the next. Depending on whom he was with determined how he would act and it began to get to him. The betrayal of Remembrance and the shift in Mattues attitude was a hard blow and he felt taxed when he thought of the matter. As the year passed he started to feel that though he was accepted by some no one was really on his side, he feels as though he is betraying his original nature and each path to a purpose takes him farther. Many people want him to join their way but he fore some reason distrusts their intentions and feels that his quest for a purpose is a futile one at best.
He’ll often allow himself moments of peace without worry but as soon as they are gone he questions them, the divide within himself often making him violent at times when he becomes frustrated. Though he isn’t aware his frustrations come from the bonds that he has made and dealing with his natural instincts to hold everything back. He’s conflicting with what has kept him alive for so long and the sudden changes and worries of loosing those he has come to care about often gets the better of him sometimes. In this sense Cyrus can often become frustrated by just being around friends as he is reminded of what he lost long ago and not being able to really face that he is afraid of facing it again.
Cyrus was born November 27th 1500. Like every haunt he was born to his original canine form unable to take on other forms yet. The first lesson he learned was how to hide in a shadow. Within the first 3 weeks of his birth he was taken out of the deep cave he was born in with his siblings and exposed to sunlight. The feeling was an awful burning and his first instinct was to run back to the sanctity of the cave however the entrance was blocked by his older family members. Forced to walk blind and in pain he found the safety of his mothers shadow and sank into it until only his red eyes could be seen from the shadow cast by her and his siblings quickly followed one by one sinking into the safety of the shadow each Haunt darkening it until 5 pairs of glowing eyes looked out from it.
Carried within his mothers shadow he experienced his first hunt, a haunt can go quite some time without feeding however they cannot go indefinitely and become weaker over time. 2 months into his life Cyrus was near starving having not tasted fear yet. They moved down from their rocky hillside and moved towards the small town of Peaksdale. He remained in his mothers shadow as they ran into the fields and began to howl and chase the sheep. Cyrus could smell the fear almost instantly as he began to see a mental map within his head of all that began to feel fear around him. It was intoxicating and overpowering his, mother lunged and sank her fangs deep into a lone sheep keeping it still as she pulled the fear from it. Cyrus could hear its heart racing as fed mother fed off the unfortunate animals fear until the heart simply stopped. Through her shadow she shared a portion of the fear and moved onto the next one, Cyrus could feel the strength returning to him. He would participate in the next hunt and gain his first real taste of fear from the source.
For nine year they preyed on nearby small towns, mostly focusing on farm animals and the occasional human. Things suddenly changed for Cyrus, unknown to them that a century ago the king of England declared the extermination of their kind under the guise of a wolf hunt. They were isolated and never heard the news of the impending doom. The hunters came with their torches in the noonday sun and the slaughter commenced for both sides.
“My first experience of the light was a burning hatred, they came with torches and blood trickled into the shadows of my kind. 25 Torches came to claim their right to kill and 5 torches left in victory. Hidden among their shadow I escaped my fate, the fate of my kind.”
And then there was one
Cyrus hid the day of his species reckoning within the shadow of a hunter and unknown to him had saved the life of the haunt. When night broke he jumped from the shadow and ran into the darkness. Cyrus ran for 3 nights straight, he fought the urge to return to his old den, afraid of what he would find, afraid to come to the realization that he may be the only survivor. He did not stop until the boarders of the island itself stopped him.
The black dog
Cyrus was eventually driven from solitude by hunger roaming old forgotten roads in search of prey he dared not approach any town. He finally managed to satisfy his hunger when he chased down a weary traveler stopped on the side of an old trading rout. Feeling the strength return to him Cyrus began to feel confident in his survival. He began to hunt the roads constantly traveling to keep his were bouts hidden. Sometimes he would prey on traders or hunters on their trapping routs. For 2 centuries he prayed on these lost folks, giving legend to the black dog, an omen of death.
A sudden change of the wind
With his pack killed Cyrus never had the chance to learn more about his powers. Though he knew how to cling to shadows and move through them his other form was unknown to him. It wasn’t until the 17th century that Cyrus came across his other identity. A French organization known as lupari had been hunting him for the entirety of the night, chasing him until daybreak were he would be vulnerable. Armed with lanterns, swords, and wolfs bane about their necks he was outnumbered and a bit outmatched. Chased to an old saw mill Cyrus prepared to make his last stand. Wolfs bane protected their throats from the quick kill, and the firelight from the lanterns made him vulnerable to their swords. He needed to think fast, he needed to hide. He quickly fell into the shadows hoping they would overlook it. They came, footsteps heavy, and pointed their lanterns into the shadows limiting the places he could move to. His eyes closed he felt the light move over his hiding place, revealing him, he needed to hide! However to his surprise they spoke, asked if he saw a large wolf move through here. Nodding his head Cyrus pointed to a cellar door. The men quickly left as Cyrus looked down at his hands, his hands. He could become like them?
A wolf under wool
Cyrus’s first transformation was a jolt to his world. He was never prepared by his kind for this and had no idea what to think of it. His first steps were awkward as he had difficulty balancing upright, though he attempted to walk on all fours he found that even more difficult. His only similar experience to this was the first time sunlight had touched him and he was truly disoriented in the same way. He was eventually taken in by good folk who assumed he was sick or abandoned. Cyrus could not speak the human tongue which perhaps aided them in their thinking he was abandoned as a mute. His awkwardness was hidden by their assumptions. They kept him as a house servant in return for food and a small room in the attic. They sympathized for him and with all that was happening in Brittan at the time did not wish to see more harm come to people. With his time there he managed to pick up some words as he became more used to his new body and was even allowed the privilege of learning to read when he finished his chores. They figured his ability to speak was a blessing as their initial thoughts of him were to be mute. Cyrus was at odds soon enough though when his hunger began, he tried more than once to turn back but never got it right. He was uncomfortable with the thought of leaving and in truth he was beginning to like his new situation. When he eventually learned to read he became fascinated with old books, especially legends. Occasionally he would come across an old lore that seemed to resemble his species which he would let take him back. Eventually though his hunger drove him to inevitable ruin. With his growing weakness from a lack of feeding they began to check on him, they only checked once when night had befallen. When they saw his eyes glowing red in the shadow terror struck them and his hunger took over. He felt the familiar calling of the hunt, and the form that followed. He fed of them that night and gained control over his shape shifting with primal urges, when he needed to feed he was the wolf, and when he needed to blend he was the human. Though he never tried to think about what he did it became apparent to him that hopes to gain humanity should be cast aside as they would inevitably at opposite ends, such is the way when one is the hunter and the other is their prey. Cyrus overtime gained more control over his form but it was never again used in regard to being human, but used to stalk them.
The world on fire
When the war broke out Cyrus was at home, he roamed the battlefield for the wounded and fed on the fear that surrounded the nation. No longer in England he spent much of the war in France and Germany. Sometimes he would stalk no man’s land in the form of the wolf or join the men in a night raid under the guise of his human form. He thrived of the battle and in the chaos did not need to fear discovery. Once the war ended Cyrus took the opportunity to explore the rest of Europe. He learned two other languages and found that man was beginning to care less about the supernatural, calling it superstition or exaggerated tales. His guard slowly dropped and he lived and fed, moving still.
The thunder of loss
When the Second World War was launched Cyrus was actually excited. He had heard rumors of what was happening and was looking forward to tasting the fear of those responsible. Though he hunted all sides of in the war he looked specifically for the Nazi high commanders, as they always gave the most fear when it was their time. However it was here that after 400 years Cyrus had found others like him, other haunts who escaped. He quickly joined their ranks known as the cult of Fenris and rejoiced being able to hunt with his kind. A year into the war and Cyrus was taken to meet their leader who turned out to be a human Nazi. They located the remaining Haunts and offered them to work for them causing chaos and death. Cyrus didn’t care who they were, just that his race was existing to serve those that nearly whipped them out. Rage filled his heart but his fellow Haunts did not share the same opinion. When Cyrus moved against their master they jumped to defend him. Normally in shadow a Haunt is invulnerable however they are an elemental creature and those that share that element can also harm them, this was a battle to the death. Cyrus took on 4 of his own kind and nearly died in the attempt, to week to chase after the man who started this Cyrus fell into the nearest shadow he could find and began the long process of healing. Thoughts of killing the last of his kind hung heavy for the rest of the war.
A chance to find a new way
After the war the industrial age pushed Cyrus out of hiding, no longer were there country roads to stalk at night. He couldn’t keep himself hidden and the damaged caused by the cult of Fenris and the capture of high ranking nazi soldiers put Cyrus’s old enemies back on his track. Lupari a French organization started in the 9th century was a large group of hunters ordered to rid Europe of the supernatural, them with the aid of the king of England during the 13th century was what led to the vast extinction of his race. Cyrus fought hunters on a monthly basis, watching the walls slowly fall in on him. It was at a French pier that Cyrus was prepared to die, finally cornered by the great descendant of Robert de Umfraville and 6 of his top hunters. Cyrus put up his hands up and felt the light of the sun gently wash over him, he heard the shots fire and felt the sting as they broke through his skin. Searing pain coursed through his body as flakes of him began to drift of in the wind. He fell back into the water when his realized that the large boats in the docks cast a shadow onto the sea floor. Closing his eyes to conceal the red glow they gave when in darkness he swam to the shadow and moved in, saving his life and faking his death at the same time. The ship eventually left the harbor and Cyrus was stuck on board until he finally hit the shores of the new world, his new life.
The time since he had landed in America were filled with new experiences and hard lessons of trust. He came with intentions to change the way he lived and he succeeded though the result often came at the price of inner turmoil. Cyrus had forged bonds with a few and even reconnected with an old friend, possibly the only one he’d consider a friend from his past. When Remembrance disappeared he went a bit cold. He had believed they had found something more than friendship between them and though he was used to her suddenly needing to leave after months of not hearing anything of her he felt betrayed. When he did hear about the apocalypse he was more than furious that she never told him. He cut himself off from most interaction loyalty being the only thing that bonded him to the connections he had already made.
Cyrus spent most of the year filling in the blanks and being brought up to speed on what had transpired in the world around him and coming to grips with how close to destruction they came. He kept up his appearance with his friends and was there if they needed him but in between he had his own agenda and rarely included others into it. Eventually he began to suffer the effects of living two lives. Cyrus spent most of his hours alone gathering as much information as he possibly could. He did this by any means and often found himself storming other supernatural creatures or fighting hunters to find out.
Cyrus Ashwood, Haunt
