Rank: Werewolf Hunter/Wingrider
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Build: Thin
Skin: Light Tan
Hair: Brown, to nape of neck, straight
Eyes: Brown
Personality: Cold and aloof, he's never spent much time around other people, so never really learned how to react to other people. He is often rude and sarcastic and likes to be by himself. He also tends to be a bit selfish and doesn't often think about other people, another one of his bad habits. He does have a good side, somewhere under the tough guy exterior, but no one's been able to find it yet.
Past: A professional werewolf hunter for the last four years, Ceche enjoys his job immensely. Or, at least he did, until he underestimated his prey one time and...well, you'll understand all that later. He doesn't have any dark, traumitizing secrets in his past that caused a deep and abiding hatred for werewolves. His parents and siblings are alive and well, living in his hometown of Atlanta, Georgia. To be honest, he's just in it for the money. (His real name is Charles, but he hates it. Who knows how he came up with Ceche.)
Dragon: Green Fangrall
A high, keening howl slid through the night air, waxing and waning until it faded away entirely on the wind. A large shape moved through the underbrush, hidden from its prey's sight.
A crackling sound came from the underbrush, and there was a soft gasp as a young man burst through the ferns and bushes. The hidden hunter watched its prey with dark eyes and stayed silent and hidden. It was not yet time.
The man's wavy, brown-blond hair whipped over his face and obscured his sight. Pushing it out of the way, he stumbled forward and kept running, aware that tonight, he was the hunted.
The bone-chilling howling had stopped long ago, and the man ran on in silence, ever trying to keep ahead of the hunter that waited for him in the shadows. He halted as he came to a fork in the trail, but he didn't have time to waste fretting over which way to go, and with barely a thought, he dashed down the right-hand trail; it was more overgrown than the other, and though his way was harder, he was used to it, and he hoped it would slow the thing chasing him down as well.
The creature in the shadows chased after him doggedly, content to let him wear himself out. The man finally came to a stop at the edge of a river, too thick and swift for him to swim across. He was cornered.
He whimpered as he turned to face his death. Even now, the large shape loomed in the shadows, and the hunter's dark eyes glittered in the moonlight. "Mercy!" He cried out pleadingly, hands clasped.
A silver gun flashed from the shadowy depths of the forest, its bright surface glittering with moonlight just before it fired, sending its deadly, poisonous bullets deep into the man's heart. The man gasped and fell to the ground, clutching the gaping wound in his chest disbelievingly.
The hunter stepped out of the shadows. A long black coat was whipped about the man's long, thin body as he stepped into the moonlight. Beneath the coat, the hilt of a silver sword was visible in its sheath at his waist. The still smoking gun was clasped in one gloved hand.
The hunter's dark brown eyes were dark as he smiled grimly at his prey. "I don't have pity or mercy for monsters, werewolf."
The victim's body began to convulse as he transformed into his wolf form, and blood pooled around the body. The hunter turned and walked away as the river began to run red.
Ceche growled to himself as he downed another cup of hot coffee. Black, with no cream or sugar. He ran a hand through his straight, chestnut brown hair in frustration. He'd been in this backwater, cowboy-wannabe town for almost a week now, and not a single thing to do.
There'd been rumors all the way in Atlanta about a series of gruesome deaths, thought to be the work of a wild animal. Ceche thought there was a good chance that a werewolf was involved, and came to investigate.
As soon as he arrived in Highwater Falls, (A stupid name for a town in Ceche's opinion) the attacks mysteriously and suddenly stopped. He rented an apartment on the edge of town and decided to wait it out. The werewolf was bound to appear again sometime.
Highwater Falls was not Ceche's idea of a fun place to be. Despite its being several states too far east, it was set up like an old western town. It seemed sort of quaint at first, but Ceche thoguht the old-fashioned saloon, complete with an old bartender wiping out the inside of a glass with a dirty, ratty-edged rag, was a bit much. He half expected to see a tumbleweed go by outside any second now.
He sighed, bored. He hadn't had a kill since the werewolf man he shot by the riverbank. Ceche quickly beat back the feeling of guilt as he thought about the man pleading for his life. No pity for the victims-werewolves. He thought to himself. He couldn't afford it. It was his job, it was all business, and nothing more.
He called to the bartender. "Hey! Have you seen any weird characters hanging around town lately?"
The bartender looked over at him. "Need something more to drink?" He said brightly.
"No, have you seen any suspicious-looking people around town lately?" Ceche said again, a little louder this time.
"You sure? We got some real nice brews in the back. Got a mighty fine kick to 'em." The old man said hopefully.
Ceche grit his teeth, then sighed. "Just get me another coffee. Black." He said, sliding a five-dollar bill and his empty mug across the table.
"Yessir." The bartender happily snatched up the money and mug and soon returned with a steaming cup of coffee. Ceche blew over the hot contents of the cup to cool it, and decided to try again. "Suspicious characters?"
The old bartender fiddled with the frames of his wire-frame glasses thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, there was a strange-looking man in a long, black coat and all black clothes a couple nights back. Couldn't see too well, 'cause it was dark and all, but he seemed to have dark hair, sort of short and neat-looking, and dark eyes as well." He peered at Ceche and blinked. "Hmm? Oh, wait. That was you. Never mind."
Ceche growled at him and stood up. "Fine then, apparently, you haven't seen who I'm looking for." He threw another five-dollar bill on the counter as a tip and, pulling on his long coat, walked out of the door.
The bartender picked up the money and blinked. "Huh. I didn't even get to tell him about Mr. Rakaltor."
Ceche grumbled as he fiddled with the keys to his apartment in the dark. Finally identifying the correct one, he inserted it in the lock and oped the door. His apartment was completely dark inside; not surprising, as it was 11:30 at night and no lights were currently on.
He stepped inside and stiffened as he saw something that should not be there. A large, sturdy form stood ramrod straight on the far side of the room, looking out the window, where a half-full moon hung in the air. Few stars could be seen from behind the dark clouds, though they seemed to have parted for the moon.
Ceche quickly flipped on the light switch while his gun flashed to his other hand. The strange figure flinched as it was blinded by the sudden bright light. Once the stranger's eyes adjusted, he found himself face to muzzle with Ceche's silver bullet-loaded gun. To his credit, the man only blinked and stepped back a step. He was tall and thin, dark brown hair sprinkled with distinguished gray and combed neatly. "That's very rude, you know."
Ceche sneered. "So is breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night. What were you doing, planning to jump me when I came in?"
The man scoffed at Ceche's paranoia. "Hardly. I only came to talk to you. I need your help."
Ceche raised one eyebrow. "How so?"
"You're Charles Neworth, are you not? The werewolf hunter?" The man asked pointedly.
Ceche scowled slightly at the use of his real name. "I go by Ceche, but yeah, I am. Apparently I was right in assuming there was a werewolf hiding out here?" He asked as he slowly lowered his gun.
The man in front of him smiled wryly. "Indeed. Incidentally, it seems to be picking off my cattle. As well as my workers."
Ceche stared at him, one dark eyebrow raised. "You're a rancher?" He asked. It figured.
"Allow me to introduce myself." The strange man said in his cultured voice. "My name is Roderick Rakaltor. I own the single largest cattle ranch in Highwater Falls. My business is being hurt by this werewolf."
"And you want me to get rid of it for you." Ceche finished for him.
"You will, of course, be well compensated for your efforts." Mr. Rakaltor said graciously.
Ceche thought over the man's offer for a moment. Only a moment. "I'll do it." He accepted.
Mr. Rakaltor smiled in a way that made Ceche begin to reconsider his acceptance. "Wonderful. I will expect you to stop by sometime tomorrow then." He said as he strode over to the door. Ceche noticed that he had left a peice of paper on his table, which held an address and phone number on it.
Ceche watched him leave, arms folded across his chest. He had a bad feeling about this place, and he wondered if he was going to regret coming here after all.
Five days later...
Ceche crouched down in one of the empty stalls in Mr. Rakaltor's stalls and peered out of the single window. He had full werewolf-hunting gear on; a long, black coat, a silver-loaded rifle as well as his own silver gun, and a silver-bladed sword in a sheath at his waist. He was waiting for the werewolf to appear.
A large figure appeared as the moon shone from behind thin, wispy clouds. A dark grey wolf loped from the shadows, lowering its head to the ground as it sniffed. It growled at Ceche even as he cocked the rifle and pulled the trigger.
A loud blast rang out as the wolf leapt out of the way and out of sight. Ceche cursed as he lost sight of the werewolf and threw down the rifle, opting to go with his own gun instead.
He ran out of the stables and looked around. The moon, more than half full now, was bright enough that he could see the area around him easily enough, except for the stand of trees that stood behind the stables. Deciding that was the werewolf's most likely hiding place, he turned towards it-only to have a second wolf leap on him from behind.
Ceche twisted wildly as the wolf dug its claws into his back. He finally managed to throw it off of him, even as it tried to hang on by digging its teeth into his shoulder. Ceche hissed as its teeth were torn loose from the skin, and the wolf landed on the ground with a thump. He went for his gun and turned to face the werewolf, gasping in surprise. "You!?"
Mr. Rakaltor grinned smugly as he stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes. "You werewolf hunters are all the same. Willing to do anything for money." He sneered.
Ceche glared at him, dark eyes narrowed with hatred. "Are you going to kill me now, was that your plan?" He asked, leveling his gun at the man's-werewolf's-head.
Mr. Rakaltor just stared back calmly and smirked. "Well, I admit, it was my original plan. But I rather like how things have turned out-you being infected and all."
Ceche gasped, turning his gaze to his bitten shoulder as the realization hit him. Oh, shit... He thought, dropping his gun to the ground. He was right. He'd been bitten by a werewolf, he was infected...He was starting to get dizzy.
He raised dark eyes hatefully to look at Mr. Rakaltor as his vision turned hazy. The man just glared back at him, smugly turning his back to leave. "You don't understand what it's like for us. But you will. Have a nice life." Ceche took an undue amount of satisfaction in shooting the guy before he lost consciousness.
Once again, Ceche sat in the bar, stirring a liquid-filled cup with a spoon. He'd stayed in this town until the full moon, when...well, let's not even go there. Suffice to say it wasn't fun for Ceche.
He felt it was high time he left and got back to whatever resemblance of a normal life he still had. He clenched his fist and his dark eyes narrowed bitterly. He sighed and downed his drink with one gulp, then stood up to leave. The door opened behind him, and he half turned around to see who it was.
Three people entered, two looking to be in their late twenties, the other, the only girl, barely looked out of her teens. The girl noticed Ceche standing in the corner, and her face brightened as she walked over to him. Ceche watched her suspiciously.
"Hello." She said brightly. "My name's Ellone, what's yours?"
Ceche glanced her face warily. She was fairly pretty, with long brown hair and brown eyes. "Ceche." He said simply, scowling.
"Would you like to ride a dragon, Ceche?" Ellone asked him suddenly.
Ceche was taken aback by the statement. "W-What?"
"A dragon." Ellone said matter-of-factly. "In fact, my Seinkoth is waiting right outside, if you want to see her." The girl had a look of pride on her face.
Ceche stared at her, but despite his best attempts, his curiousity got the best of him. "Alright then, where's this dragon of yours?"
He even smiled slightly as Ellone pulled him outside and towards an empty, open-ended alley.
"Wow."
"Uh-huh. That's what they all say."
"Wow." Ceche repeated, his eyes locked on the large, green dragon peering back at him with insectoid, rainbow eyes. "That's a dragon. A real, live dragon."
"Mmm hmm." Ellone assured him that it was, in fact, an actual dragon he was standing in front of.
"...Huh."
Ellone stared at him with one raised eyebrow. "I'd have figured you'd be more surprised at finding out dragons are real." She said.
Ceche shrugged. "Well hey, I'm a werewolf hunter-turned-werewolf, so who am I to say what's real and what's fantasy."
Ellone blinked, taken aback by his unexpected answer. "Oh." After a short pause, "Would you like to have one of your own?" Ellone asked.
"Huh?" Ceche blinked, startled. This girl had a way of catching him off guard.
Ellone laughed. "Dragons bond to humans at hatching. Then that dragon and human have a mental and emotional bond for the rest of their lives." She smiled. "It's a very fulfilling experiance." Her brown eyes glanced at him. "Seinkoth says she thinks you should try to bond a dragon." She strode over to the green dragon, Seinkoth, who stared at Ceche curiously and blinked her strange, faceted eyes calmly. Ellone stroked the massive head lovingly and tilted her head. "So, what do you say?" She asked, holding her hand out to him.
Ceche regarded her and the dragon with raised eyebrows. He considered her offer and shrugged. What did he have to loose? He took her hand, and she smiled.
Charles? a voice said. That's interesting. Yet they call you Ceche... Oooooh. That's why...
"Quit rummaging around in there, Fangrall!" The werewolf hunter, now werewolf himself, swatted around his head, as if the physical action could rid him of the mental touch.
Don't get yer panties in a bunch, fuzzball, Fangrall retorted, eyes dancing with mischief.
Their relationship would most certainly be a most explosive one at times, Arena could sense that now.
