Cindralic

[cindralic]

Cindralic

Character Play-by: Hayden Christensen

name:Cindralic
age: 1400-1450
gender: Male
orientation:Something weird..
race:Vampire; anything he wants
birthplace:Bolivia
current location:Washington
occupation:None

personality: Cindralic has no personality. It is a rarity for Cindralic to ever speak. He never speaks to humans or werewolves; only to his own kin, which is a vampire. No one can accurately conjure a character sketch of this man because he usually never leaves anyone alive. Those, vampires that know him say he is seductive, in a deathly way, hated, a hater of everything. He is cruel, unmerciful, conceded, and any other adjective that can be used to describe the devil.

Cindralic is someone that you never want to be around; never want to know and never want to come in contact with. He will not ask question, he will not barter with you, let live, give you a chance. He may toy with you, play a sadistic game with your mind but in truth, if he hunts you, he will kill you. Cindralic is no lover of people, no lover of werecreatures, charmers or anything else for that matter. The only inclining of respect he has for anything or anyone are vampires as powerful as himself. He would respect them enough to not feed on them but honestly not much beyond that.

detailed history: Cindralic’s real name is unknown, but he was born somewhere between 600-650 AD. He claims that he was married with two children, he has only told one person of them. He used to live in present day Bolivia where he lived peacefully and happily. However, somewhere around 670-680 AD he claimed to have met the “devil”. Whether or not he actually met the devil is unknown, but Cindralic will always believe that he did. As a result, he killed his family and was cast out of the society he lived in and forced to hide in the Amazonian forests. There he took on the name Cindralic and renounced any form of God or omnipotent being that sought for the overall good of mankind. The only thing that he believed in was what he had already seen and “met” with. So, he called upon this being of the devil once again and made a pact with him. In this meeting he acquired the sword he still carries. It is black, fully black and has some sort of mystical properties for it can never be broke, never rust, and never become dull or blunt. After this meeting, Cindralic called himself the son of the Devil. This is the end of the account that Cindralic has ever given anyone. The rest of his history is written in the scrolls of the Spanish, Dutch, English, Incas, Aztecs and Portugese. Cindralic never left the Continents to travel overseas and he would never need to. He did the devil’s work at home. The devil would bring new blood to him several hundred years later in the form of explorers from the East.
There are several major accounts in history that have never thoroughly been explained…until now.

Maccu Picchu is a massive city 2,400 hundred feet above sea level in modern day Peru. It was built around 450 Ad, some two hundred years before Cindralic’s birth. Histories believe that this city was settled by a Pre-Columbian Incan tribe. It was first discovered by the Spanish Conquistadors; however, it was quickly forgotten and rediscovered in 1911. When it was found, the city was empty and most signs of life, beyond the buildings, that show any forms of life. Historians know that this people didn’t leave because of invasion because of its location. No army could reach it. Around 1560 or so, Cindralic paid a visit to this thriving city of the Incas. The “abandonment” of the city was in fact, not abandonment, but a massacre. Cindralic never left a body, which was natural for him. No signs, and years and years of natural erosion covered any evidence of his being there, beyond the sole survivor and his descendants that testify to a “demon”.

An earlier massacre transpired between the Incas and their many tribes around 1530-1535, at the same time Francis Pizarro and his conquistadors came marching into Columbia and Peru. Pizarro found the Incas warring with each other, mainly two brothers, Huascar and Atahualpa. This war was not fought amongst the brothers that were simply what Cindralic wanted everyone to believe. The tribes were not fighting each other, they were fighting him. Very rarely did Cindralic turn anyone; however, he chose to turn Huascar to one of his own and the pattern continued and the war broke out between the tribes. It was not a war of land or money; it was a war of blood and of converts. Pizarro never really defeated the vampire Incas, they simply found it problematic to feed with so much armor in the way and the bullets of the Spanish did cause them damage. Pizarro found a torn civilization and he conquered it. Had the Incans all gathered together and fought with Pizarro on a united front, they would have easily crushed him. However, they fought each other, in what they thought to be, a more important war. Cindralic was never found. It was said he moved into the mountains of Peru to find new feeding grounds.

The Aztecs were an empire that dominated Central Mexico for the better part of the 13th, 14th, 15th and 16th century. Their reign came to an abrupt end after Cortez and his Conquistadors entered their territory. However, it was not Cortez that was the demise of the Aztecs for their eventually threw him out. When he returned, the empire was already wiped out for him. Seemingly, historians believe that smallpox was the cause of this dramatic decrease of population; however, there was another cause. Montezuma was the ruler of the Aztec empire when the Spanish first arrived. He was a superstitious man and he believed that the Spanish were gods because of their armor, their weapons and their ships. When he was killed, some of the superstition went with him. However, not all of it left. Cindralic had traveled a bit north and found the Aztec tribes. What had detoured the Aztecs from believing the Spanish as gods was the fact that they bled, required food and died. The Aztecs, according to their calendar were in the “year of doom” which made them paranoid enough. When Cindralic hardly bled, never ate and certainly never died, they thought he was a god. So, they worshipped him, until he killed, every…single one them that came to him. When Cortex returned, he found remnants of the Aztecs…Cindralic had already moved on.

There was primarily one more occurrence of Cindralic’s brutal and rather mysterious massacres of cities. This was much later when Cindralic felt the need to feed once again. He had moved north and found himself in present day Roanoke where a civilization of Englishmen had colonized a small island. It was not hard for Cindralic decimate this town because there were few men there already and they were starving and low on man power. When the English returned they found nothing, not people and no remnants of the colony. Cindralic had killed them all. The Indians and a nice little hurricane had finished the job and sealed the tracks of this monster.

Cindralic was becoming rather tired of trying to find new food to come to him, so he conjured a way to make the food come to him. Cindralic settled in Florida, leaving the Carolina’s because it was too cold. There he fought with several small Indian tribes, but nothing serviced his lust for blood. Cindralic found himself a lair behind a waterfall. Legend spread about a being that could not be killed and could regenerate him and life forever. These were simply Cindralic’s physical capabilities. Hence, the fountain of youth came about. Ponce De Leon was the first to try and explore this fountain of youth, but he never returned and neither did any other explorer that ever went looking for the fountain of youth and found it. They found Cindralic, a bloodthirsty being with no mercy that consumed all that came to him. Cindralic had found his food supply for at least a hundred years, because the lust for power, for riches drove the Europeans on their quest and into his arms.

Still that supply began to run dry as the legends began to fade away. Cindralic could never allow it and he could not stand to go without flesh for any extended period of time. Cindralic had to feed and so close to year 1863 he moved to the mainland of the Americas. He found it quite populated with people and during the first years on the mainland he found the people there to be at war. Mikel had his fair share of blood during the war. No one would notice hundreds of men going missing a battle. They would simply assume they were lost or captured. The war ended but Cindralic's thirst for blood remained and then, to Cindralic luck came the gold rush and the rush to the West. Cindralic was the first one on board for that. There were many wagon trains that never made it to the West and storms had nothing to do with it. Cindralic soon found himself in California with a steady flow of people coming to him. He would never need to leave the Western border...

fears: Anything that contradicts his beliefs
strengths:He is a vampire, he has all their strengths. He also doesn’t allow anyone to get close enough to betray him
weaknesses:He is always alone. There is no one to support him, no one to back him up. He is untrusting and unwanting.
likes:Blood, death…bad stuff
dislikes:Cold weather, light, concern, love

facial appearance:Look at banner
clothing: He wears a black cloak that covers his face and all of his body, always.
build: Cindralic is 6:7, with broad shoulders and well cut body.
marks/scars:None…he heals
species appearance:He looks like a human…but he kills like a true vampire should
powers:Strength, speed, agility, hate, stealth, great senses. He is a true Master vampire…

your name:Tyler
age:20
how long have you been roleplaying?:Long Time
how did you find us?:I work here
codeword: [can be found in the rules]eclipse

roleplay sample: The night was still young and the blood that ran through the streets was still new. The screams and cries from the butchered and the dismembered filled the skies and surrounding forests. The moon, full and at his peak shown down, providing and almost eerie night. The fog of the coming morning provided a more suspect, yet still tranquil scene. However, any tranquility one would feel by the look of the sky and of the air would be erased by the events transpiring in the town. The village was but 200 people, but in a single night, in several hours, it had been depopulated to perhaps four….and a half. Cindralic was merciless and his dark cloak was stained ever darker with the blood of his victims. Arms, legs, organs, heads, laid everywhere. They were spilled in the streets, homes, on the walls, it matter not because Cindralic did not care this night about how messy he was. Cindralic walked through a puddle of blood pursuing the screams of a dismembered woman, still huddling close to her child, pressed against her bosom. Cindralic snarled and swiped the child from her arms and it fell to the floor with a cry. Cindralic did not feed on babies. He crushed its head with his heavy foot as he approached the woman who wailed out ever louder now. Cindralic leaned down and fed upon her as well, her blood seeping from both the stubble of her left leg and the two bite marks in her neck. Cindralic walked out to the center of the street, content with his kill, his feet walking through another pool of blood, stepping over an arm clutching a knife. Cindralic would have left, and he meant to, but a growl and roar caught his ear and he turned to face a beast. It was fury, had the features of a wolf but stood as a man, snarling and blood thirsty. Cindralic watched as it jumped towards him. He thrust the massive beast aside and into a spike that was protruding from a collapsed home, the remnants of a ceiling beam. The beast snarled and lifted itself off to Cindralic’s surprise. The beast stood tall, taller than Cindralic. It charged Cindralic and locked him in a battle of muscle and will. The creature forced him to the ground, gnawing and biting. Cindralic kicked up and forced the beast away, looking at his left arm that was barely hanging, simple tendons keeping it attached. Cindralic looked at the beast that had now recovered. Cindralic’s black sword appeared in his hand and as the beast charged, he sliced off its left arm, blood spewed out from the cut arteries and veins. Cindralic placed a kick in its chest that forced it to the ground and he backed away, waiting for the creature to die. Instead, it pulled itself up, took its arm from the ground and came at him and used his arm as a club, striking Cindralic in the head, sending him into the side of a nearby wall. Cindralic pulled himself up as the creature was on him again. Cindralic slashed again, the creature’s leg gone and spurting on the ground beside the collapsed being. Cindralic loomed over the creature and it snarled, gnawing at his leg. Confounded that this creature still breathed with a hole in its chest, missing an arm and a leg. Still, this creature bled and therefore it must die. Cindralic thrust his sword into its chest again, through its heart. The beast growled and roared again. This creature would not die. Cindralic knelt down, his knee on the creature’s neck. He reached down his good arm and removed its head with his bare hands. Cindralic stood, his arm starting to heal itself already. He walked to the street again and village filled with roars and growls. Cindralic looked back and forth. It was an enemy worth fighting now. Another beast toppled his right shoulder…

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