Cyrus

Name: Cyrus

Nicknames: Cy

Age: 120 (Adult)

Gender: Male

Species: Human/Visek Elf hybrid

Abilities:

Cyrus’ strengths are entirely in his mind. He is extremely intelligent and strong in many academic fields, particularly those having to do with logic and strategic planning.

From his Visek lineage he acquired the gift of magic, and from an early age he began applying his affinity for logic to spells. Especially for someone as short-lived as he, Cyrus is a prodigy in the arcane. He has a particular knack for transmutation and kinetic magic, and struggles the most with illusions.

Cyrus approaches magic in a strictly scientific way and builds spells based on carefully written formulas. He is incapable, perhaps through an unconscious mental block or otherwise, of using magic through emotion or will alone. Instead, he prepares spells in writing or through symbols that may be executed by completing the final phrase or image, or spoken aloud (for simpler spells). Because of this method, Cyrus always carries around a book with his simpler spells, and usually has some means of writing nearby for when he needs to construct a new spell.

Appearance:

While Cyrus gets his magic from his elf half, his physical form is largely human. He is not particularly striking or notable in any way, merely average in most aspects. At 5’10”, he is not especially short, but on the lower end of average height for either species. Though he is on the thin side like an elf, being 134lbs, he looks more hungry than graceful, and has very little in the way of muscle or flexibility. True to his Visek blood, Cyrus’ skin is pale, though it would perhaps be more naturally a warmer, more human-like pink if he ventured outside more often.

Another trait Cyrus only coincidentally shares with Visek elves is his silver-colored hair, which is cut short above his short, slightly pointed ears but otherwise not styled in any particular way. He was born with black hair, but due to certain traits of his personality, it has lightened over the years and now matches his eyes, which are also silver. Fittingly, he wears sleek, silver-framed glasses to correct nearsightedness. Occasionally, a bit of darker stubble will line his face, usually around the same time the bags under his eyes are most noticeable.

In the way of clothing, Cyrus is not especially groundbreaking. He typically dresses lightly in neutral colors or greyscale, with more regard to functionality than fashion. A typical ensemble for him would be a long jacket in a style popular with magical scholars, magic-resistant gloves, and simple trousers and boots.  

Personality:

Intellectual. Most of what makes Cyrus what he is would be his scholarly ambition. He has a remarkably strong academic mind, and he thrives on learning and critical thinking. Most of his time is spent reading, researching, or applying the knowledge he has garnered. He can talk at length and in depth about a great many subjects, and will do so with glee if allowed to do so without inhibitions.

Neurotic. Somewhat of an extension of his intelligence, Cyrus is a perfectionist to a fault. He cannot act without first dedicating some time to careful planning and consideration. Thinking on his feet is near impossible for him because of this; he has to deliberate the options and possibilities of any situation. This has led to Cyrus being a very anxious person who never takes risks, is rarely happy with his work and decisions, and is constantly thinking about the ways any scenario could go wrong.

Timid. Cyrus is not at all a strong person socially. He often finds it difficult to interact with others comfortably, and he shrinks away from social situations. Lacking willpower and confidence, it is easy to push Cyrus around or put him down. He does not have a very high opinion of himself, even in regards to his magical talent, and does not accept compliments very well.

History:

Cyrus was born to a human mother and a Visek father in the city of Santyn. Both of his parents were scholars of magic, though his mother only researched and could not actually use spells. A hybrid, the child aged at a pace slightly faster than a pureblooded elf, and due to his mother’s shorter lifespan, Cyrus was raised primarily by his father and was brought up mostly in Visek culture and surrounded by magical talents.

At some time during his childhood, Cyrus and his father moved to Yfrelo in Sleible, though they often travelled for periods of time to sate the wanderlust his father had learned from his human wife. As he grew older, however, Cyrus preferred to stay behind in a place with more people like him.

As an adult, Cyrus is an avid researcher and spellcrafter, often working on commission to create magical scrolls or items. He tends to stay close to the mage guild, being a bit wary of people outside of it.

Roleplay Sample:

Peppernose found herself trying to listen to several conversations at once. There were the leaders above her, and then the dozens of cats before her, and more and more still pouring in. She heard a lot of names, and SkyClan was mentioned a few times, but it was too difficult for her to tune into any one thing from where she sat. The leaders didn't seem very interesting at the moment with their pleasantries, and hardly any medicine cats had sat down yet...

Well, what was the point of staying put when all the socializing was happening out of reach of this stupid rock? Peppernose decided that she wasn't going to waste this first gathering away just watching everyone else have fun. Medicine cat or no, she was a very energetic and sociable character, and she was itching to get in on the action.

With an impatient huff, Peppernose leapt down from the medicine cat rock and looked around for anything particularly fun. It wasn't long before something caught her interest- something else completely new to her, something she had never seen before.

Peppernose had, of course, heard of dogs before. What cat had never heard of dogs? But she had never seen a dog, so when one walked right into the gathering, her eyes grew wide with curiosity. What was that strange, floppy eared creature running over to one of the apprentices? Why was it lashing its tail like it was angry, but everything else about it said happy? Peppernose had to know more.

"Hey, you!" the tiny tuxedo meowed loudly, bouncing over to the canine and the ThunderClanners he was greeting. Without regard for poise or tact, Peppernose planted herself in the middle of the group, huge eyes locked on Rustedwaters. She spoke with genuine wonder and curiosity, "Are you part of a Clan? But you're not any kind of cat. What are you?"