CEDARS, callum james

[callum]

* callum james cedars !

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PB: Tyler Hoechlin
But you'd save the best for last like I'm the one for you[/center]

name;; callum james cedars
nickname/s;; cal
age;; 21
sexuality;; gay bisexual
race;; werewolf
affiliation;; Alpha of the Walizi wolf pack
Likes;;

• drinking
  
• sex
  
• cars
  
• doing his own thing
  
• being on his own
  

Dislikes;;

• being told what to do
  
• not getting what he wants
  
• cats. can't stand them
  
• being bothered while sleeping/eating
  
• pretty girls that dress like sluts
  

Fears;;

• Tyson ( though he doesn't act like it )
  
• losing his pack, more importantly Charlie
  

Goals;;

• be a good alpha
  
• get full revenge for his family's death
  

Secrets;;

• he's bisexual, preferring guys over girls, and is in denial about it
  
• hates himself because he is a werewolf
  
• unintentionally helped in the murders of his family
  

You should know that you're just a temporary fix
This isn't a routine with you it don't mean that much to me

appearance;;

Callum's personality is dark, and his appearance matches it perfectly. He'll always see him wearing mostly black. Casual clothing, but almost always black. He never goes anywhere without his favorite leather jacket and black boots. He wears his parents' dog tags, from when they were in the Marine Corps. He had gone home when he was fifteen and found them. Since then, he hasn't taken them off. This is his dad's dog tag. And this was his mother's. He always has a gun with him as well. Hidden, of course. A desert eagle. Not exactly subtle, but he likes it. And he always has his knife with him as well, in a holster on his ankle, always hidden by his jeans or sweatpants.

As for his actual appearance, Callum is not a small man. He is six foot three, packed with two hundred pounds of muscle, and very intimidating. He has a chiseled chest and abs of steel, with biceps that are just as sexy. His eyes are as green as emeralds, but are as cold as dry ice if not colder. On his chest, right pec, is an angry red scar that puckers off the skin in the shape of an X and covers his entire right pec. On his back, between his shoulder blades, is a triskele tattoo, like this. Cal's wolf, however, is even larger. In wolf form, Callum is a solid six feet tall, on all fours. His fur is ink black, and his eyes are light brown in color. He has no markings except for a bit of light grey on his face, and half of his right back leg is white as snow. Like this.

personality;;

Dangerous. That's the first thing you need to know about Callum. He is increasingly dangerous. The one thing you should never do, unless you truly have a death wish, is piss off Callum. He's relentless. Merciless. He will rip you apart. One joint a time. He's not afraid to fight, knowing that he will almost aways win. He isn't afraid of death. And, shamelessly, isn't afraid to hit girls. He does what he wants, when he wants. And he'll certainly rip your face off your head if you try to stop him.

Cal is also paranoid. It's almost impossible to sneak up on him. He's always listening to his surroundings, taking in scents and listening. Watching. He may be large in size with raw muscle, but through years of practice, Cal has managed to sneak as silently as a snake in the grass. It was part of his training. He still messes up now and again, but it doesn't happen often. Bottom line? If you see a shadow, or get that weird tingly feeling in the pit of your stomach, or you feel like something bad is about to happen... Odds are, you've been marked as a target. Curtosy of Cal with no fee required. He comes without warning, and leaves without a trace.

However, that's Cal's outer layers. Toward the people he cares about, for example Charlie Greene, Cal is as scary as a little bunny. He's a giant teddy bear with his pack, especially. He's kind and polite. I'll even go as far as calling him playful with his pack. He loves to mess around and will sometimes even pull pranks on them. He's very protective of his pack, but gives each wolf their space. He only really bothers them when he needs help with something, or needs to discuss something, or if he calls for a pack meeting. Other than that, he lets his wolves do their own thing.

family;;
Johnathan Samuel Cedars - 41 - Werewolf - Father - US Marines - Deceased
Meredith Katherine Cedars - 40 - Werewolf - Mother - US Marines - Deceased
Lucas Michael Cedars - 8 - Werewolf - Brother - Deceased
Lily Angela Cedars - 6 - Werewolf - Sister - Deceased
Peter Jameson Cedars - 43 - Werewolf - Uncle - Callum's Trainer - Deceased
SueAnne Ashlyn Cedars - 40 - Human - Aunt - Deceased

history;;

Cal's life had not been the brightest. Perhaps one of the darkest. He was born to Johnathan Samuel Cedars and Meredith Katherine Cedars in Miami, Florida. Both were military parents, in the Marine Corps. They weren't home very often, and being the oldest child, Cal always took charge of his twin brother and sister. He was always protective of them, caring for them and watching their babysitter cook for them, even helping her sometimes. He was an inquisitive child, wanting to learn everything. At age seven, he learned how to make macaroni and cheese, and roman noodles. Whenever he could, Callum would practice cooking. His parents came home every once in a while, a few times every couple of months. He would show them the new things he learned to cook, and his father would say "Good job, tiger. I'm proud of you." And it would make Cal smile from ear to ear. His mother would say "Watch out, Johnathon. There may be a new man in the house." And Cal would smile even wider. He loved his parents with all his heart, and craved their approval.

It was one of these days, where his parents were home and the family was whole, when Callum met a man. He was twelve years old and playing in the yard with his wolf hybrid who he had, jokingly, named Balto. He was playing fetch with the canine when the man walked up, asking Cal if his parents were home. "Yes, sir. Who are you?" Callum replied, watching the man who smiled. "My name is Tyson. I work with your parents. Can you take me to them?". Doing as told, the child took the stranger inside and immediately regretted it. The man pulled out a gun, just as his parents did the same to shoot the man down. Little Callum didn't know that this man was a werewolf hunter. His father received a bullet to the leg, and his mother the same. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Cal yelled in shock, instinctively attacking the guy to protect his parents, but Tyson just knocked the child aside carelessly. Cal hit the ground with a grunt and stared, wide eyed, as the man pulled a gun on Cal. It wasn't a moment later he heard two puppy like growls and looked to see his brother and sister. They were too small to do any harm, but they wanted to help their parents, like Cal did. They leaped at the man.

BANG! BANG!

Cal's eyes widened even further in horror, tears swelling in his eyes, as his siblings dropped to the ground like stones, each with a hole in their head where Tyson pulled the trigger. Somewhere in the background, he heard his mother screaming for her lost children, crying. And his father cussing enough to make a whole planet of sailors proud. The world seemed to go in slow motion as he watched the man go to his parents, put a bullet in his mother's heart, and grab a poker from the fireplace, and shove it through his father's skull. "NO!" Cal screamed, tears streaming from his eyes as his father died. His body shook with each sob as he looked at his dead family. The man looked at Cal. "My name is Tyson Rivers. I killed the legendary Cedars. And I will spare you to share the news." And with that, the man left. Cal crawled to his parents quickly, shaking them and screaming for them to wake up. Praying for them to be okay. Even when he knew they were dead and would never wake up again. He cried the entire night, looking at his family laying in pools of their own blood, because he invited a killer into the house. A hunter. Callum couldn't believe what he had done.

The next day, Cal kept crying as he dug four graves, one for each of his family members and pulled them into their holes in the ground before going inside and getting his father's box of maps. He had to go to San Diego, California. For the first time in his life, Callum shifted. His fur was black as night, with eyes as golden as the sun. He was larger than most wolves his age, and he was perfectly okay with that. He stayed the countryside as he traveled with his wolf dog, Balto, who stuck by his side the entire journey and, though body language and animal-to-animal communication, taught Callum how to hunt wildlife. So the wolf was well fed the entire journey, and drank from lakes and streams and rivers along the way. It took him a few months to get to Cali. Despite being in human form on the new moons, and days close to the new moon, Cal was still working on the instincts to trust only himself, and to do anything necessary to survive. By the time he got to Cali, he was feral.

His aunt and uncle lived on the outskirts of the city, so Cal and Balto stuck to the outskirts as well, circling the city until he found his relatives' home. It was the middle of the night, but he didn't care. He howled to lure them outside, and when they did come out, Cal focused. He didn't know how to shift back on his own. The new moon had always forced it. His uncle, however, by scent, knew that it was Callum. He approached the wolf, and Callum bared his fangs, growling a warning. His uncle stopped, lifting his hands so Cal could keep them in sight. "Take it easy, kiddo. It's me. Uncle Peter. You remember me, don'tcha? When you were little, I'd come out every other weekend, and we'd play with your Hotwheels, and your legos." The voice of his uncle was soothing, hypnotic. It relaxed Cal and with his uncle's gentle words, the child shifted back to human form.

His uncle provided clothes, and Callum told his aunt and uncle what had become of his family, and jumped when his uncle snarled. "Tyson Rivers, that rat!" Cal was surprised, and asked how his uncle knew of his family's murderer. "I've encountered that piece of scum a few times. I know him well." His uncle explained. "He said he left me alive... So I could tell how he killed my parents, and Lucas and Lily." Cal muttered, feeling his heart rise to his throat once more. "Enough talk." His aunt soothed the young child. "You don't have to talk about it if you do not wish to." She said softly, nuzzling Cal. He nodded gratefully and took the spare room, Balto following and laying beside Cal protectively in the bed. That night, the nightmares came to him once more, like they always did every time he closed his eyes. He screamed out in the night, screaming his parents names, the names of his siblings. His aunt and uncle would rush in like a herd of elephants and wake the frightened child. His aunt would sit on the bed, and pull Callum into a hug. "Shh, darling. Shh.... It was just a dream. Callum would whisper. "It wasn't a dream.... It was real."

This broke his aunt and uncle's heart, to hear him say that in the way he did. In such a broken way. It was then decided that his uncle would teach him new skills that would give him the chance to do something about it. The years went by, and Callum learned to fight and how to control his shift. To kill without mercy. He learned how to shoot someone's eye out with an arrow from a hundred yards. How to take a gun apart, clean it, and put it back together in ten minutes flat. How to sneak through even the hardest things without making a sound. How to rip a heart out of someone's chest and not feel bad about it. Callum spent several hours a day just exercising. As he grew, so did his muscles. School didn't exist for Callum. It was just a waste of time, for people who hadn't lost their family. Who didn't watch their family die. For people who had no idea what real pain was, or how it felt. Normal people. Cal was not normal. Never again would he ever be normal.

On his eighteenth birthday, his uncle presented him with a gift. A living person. Living, breathing. With a healthy heart. Cal looked at his uncle in disgust. "What the fuck is this!?" He demanded with a snarl, but his uncle did not even blink. "One of Tyson's hunters." Cal's mood swung a whole new direction in less time than it took to blink. "I want two of them. Get me another one. Now." Cal growled. "It will take time, boy." His uncle said. "Just do it!" Callum snapped back, and after chaining up the human like a dog in the basement, Cal watched him. Tortured him. For information about Tyson, but the man refused to speak of Tyson. Days went by, and finally Cal's uncle returned with what the teenager had asked for. Another one of Tyson's men. Callum chained the man to the wall like he had the first, and they stared at each other before Cal took a fire poker, like the one Tyson used to kill Cal's father, from the fireplace in the basement. He had set it in the fire, so the end was hot enough it glowed white. They stared at Callum and the cruel smile on his face, fear in their eyes. He took the sharp end of the poker and dig it up under one of the men's shirts, jerking upward and ripped the shirt off. He watched the men with a savage look in his eyes.

Then, like a child, he started to doodle on the man. Like a killer, he used the white hot end of the poker as his pencil. He listened to him scream at the agony and asked the man questions. When he received no answers, Cal got agitated. He looked at them. "Alright. Your funeral." And with that, he shoved the poker into the guy's stomach, and listened to him scream. He looked at the guy he had left untouched and took his dragon knife that he had acquired when he was fourteen, and ripped the shirt on the other male down the middle with a smirk. And with that, he carved a message into the man's chest and stomach.

One two, he's coming for you.
Three four, better lock your door.
Five six, grab your crucifix.
Seven eight, better stay up late.
Nine ten, he'll strike again.

Yours truly, C.

The guy cussed and yelled at Callum, and then Callum set him free. Of course, the guy went straight to Tyson, and Callum knew this because the killer himself called Callum that night, threatening him and telling him that he'd kill Cal's entire family for what he did to Tyson's men. Cal just growled. "My family is already dead. You made damn sure of it." He replied. The conversation was short and not at all sweet, and Tyson was the first to hang up. The next day, Cal came home from hunting deer and what he saw brought back memories. In the living room, his aunt had two bullet wounds. One in the leg, and one in the heart. His uncle had a bullet wound in his leg as well. And a fire poker sticking out of his skull. It was like it had happened all over again. The eighteen year old fell to his knees, between the bodies of his aunt and uncle. The tears running from his eyes, as the day his family died came back into his head. "No... No no no no. NO!" He yelled, sobs rocking the young wolf's body as he laid his forehead on the ground in front of him, hands pounding the floor like a child throwing a tantrum as he screamed and yelled every cuss word in the book. And once again, he dug two graves and said his last goodbyes to the people who cared for him since he was twelve years old.

After that, he pulled the plug on his emotions. He was tired of feeling the pain, feeling fear every time he closed his eyes. He was tired of waking up every morning and having his first thought be "who will I lose today?". He was tired of it all. It was a few weeks later, during a hunt, that he came across a hunter. He was going to leave the hunter be, until he saw him torturing a young boy. Cal watched in silence until he was able to get the boy's scent off the barely-there breeze. Werewolf. The large black wolf did not hesitate. He launched an attack, pinning the guy to the ground. The hunter's death was quick, but bloody. Cal suffered a few gun shots, but the guy got off far worse. By the time Cal was done with him, there was nothing left of the hunter but a few splinters of bone here and there, and a helluva lot of blood. The red stuff covered Cal's black muzzle, and dripped from his teeth and jaws. He turned his eyes on the boy and shifted. He had his clothes tied to his ankle and pulled them on, before looking at the boy. After getting basic information, Cal told Charlie to be careful on his way back home. But the kid wouldn't leave. He followed Cal, doing whatever the older man asked of him.

At first, Cal was glad to have his own personal slave. But after awhile it got old. And quite annoying. It wasn't long, however, that Cal realized he liked having Charlie around. He enjoyed his company, and found himself trusting the younger teen. And it was when Cal turned twenty that he realized something. He was in love with Charlie. It frightened him at first, he didn't know what to think of it. He wasn't supposed to be into guys! He ignored the feelings at first, keeping them hidden from Charlie. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. And he realized this when he was having a nightmare one night. Charlie had woken him up, as he always did, and that was when Cal knew.... He really did love Charlie. Even after all the shit he put the young teen through, he still stuck around. So Cal admitted his feelings, and grew some balls enough to ask Charlie out and they started dating.

After that Cal found this small town riddled with werewolves and hunters alike. He settled down for awhile, formed a pack. Now he lives here in South Dakota. Killing one hunter at a time as brutally as he can, and searching for Tyson. He plans on killing the bastard, and making his death last for an entire month, if he can't make it longer. And he knows he'll enjoy every moment of it. But first, Cal has to find Tyson. That is his top priority. And he will not stop until the job is finished. Only then, will Cal be able to relax, and sleep at night knowing the people he cares about are safe and sound, and will live to see another day.

You're just a filler in the space that happened to be free
How dare you think you'd get away with trying to play me

your alias

[/b];; Pepper
contact/s[/b];; private messaging
how you found us[/b];; Bing, babeh!

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[Cayden Thomas Murphy]

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[Cayden Thomas Murphy]

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