Caorran Ruadh Cameron

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Name: Caorran Ruadh Cameron, also known as Caorran the Red; Rowan.

Place and Date of Birth: Lochaber, at the southern end of Glenalbyn, Scottish Highlands. created 1461.

Age: 545

Appears: 21

Status:Dhampir; Half-breed

Creator: Hearth Magic (witchcraft)

Character background: For generations, the clan Cameron of Lochiel had lived in a state of perpetual warfare - ranging from inter clan feuds to invading foreign armies. It had become a way of life. That is, until the Chieftain, Allan na Creach's, wife and infant son were attacked in the winter of 1461. Their enemies, it seemed, had singled out his only heir.

The infant, Ewen, sickened and burned with a fever that would not abate - bearing such marks upon his body that it was whispered that only a beast could have attacked the child; dismissing the claims of the Chieftains wife that it was a man, a man, who had attacked them on the road, and who'd lain waste to eight of the clan's strongest men to get to his kin. Surely, it was whispered, she had gone mad with the grief of it all?

Grief aside, not a soul within the Clan could bring aid to the child and the Chieftain, despairing, sent messengers far and wide looking for healers, soothayers, priests - anyone indeed, with knowledge enough to heal him. But all who came, for all their gifts, they held no answers. But then, late into the night, an old woman arrived at the stronghold; withered and bent as a yew tree, she bade the guardsmen to grant her entry and an audience with Allan na Creach....The child was sallow-skinned and listless, cool to the touch and yet seemed to burn with fever.His mother sat near the crib, unwilling to touch him.The Chieftain looked at the old woman sidelong, and at length stated that if she had also come to do nothing but stare, then she should leave like all the others before her. "I can heal him" she said slowly "but not without sacrifice.I work in the Old Ways. . . if your God cannot abide that, or the price is to heavy a burden on your souls; then I will leave. But if that is your wish, you should kill the child now and be done with it - for there is none else who can lift this affliction".At that, the mother cried out; but Allan na Creach lowered his head in defeat, for he knew she spoke the truth. Simply, he said "Heal him, then". The wise-woman smiled, and began to speak. . . . .

The Hedgewitch gathered what was necessary for the rite while throughout the clan and their kin, the search began for a sacrifice; one who was young, pure and above all, willing. A young woman, bethrothed to one of the eight men slaughtered in the attack, offered herself; and was deemed suitable. At dusk, the clan gathered in silence, at the doors of the Great Hall; and awaited the outcome. Inside, the witch gave the girl the draught prepared for her and laid her down in the circle beside the fire, the infant in his crib beside her. She soothed the girl's brow, and explained how before the night was through, the girl would bear child to a daughter full grown, who would carry the curse in Ewen's place; and forever be his protector. The girl, drowsy from the potion, listened though could not answer her. The witch stood, and gestured for Allan na Creach to stretch out his hand "now for your part of the bargin" quick as a flash, she slit open his palm, and caught the blood drained in a small bowl. He cursed, and pulled away from her, but she gave him no more heed. Muttering to herself, she picked up a small brush from the table and etched symbols on the girl's adbomen, and again on the child's bare chest; before tilting the bowl and letting a little drop into the child's mouth, who started to hiss and spit like a snake "to remind him who he is" was the witch's explanation to the horrified Chieftain, who fell back into his chair. Turning she started to mix ingredients into the bowl, muttering and chanting the whole time. she pricked the child's finger and drew the drop of blood down onto the blade, then letting it drip onto the girls forehead, who began to moan and writhe on the floor. The witch's muttering grew louder and louder, sounding like a thousand voices speaking and whispering at the same time,and the Chieftain,transfixed,could only watch as the girl's belly slowly began to swell. Louder and louder the chanting grew, the witch reached down and marked the girls growing belly with her own blood and the Great Hall seemed to swell with shadows. The whole time it was all Allan could keep from screaming; when all at once the girl gave an unearthly cry and the witch turned and threw the contents of the bowl into the fire . . . . . and the Hall was plunged into darkness.

With a shaking hand, the Chieftain relit a candle; just in time to see the witch throw her own cloak about the shoulders of a young woman who stood there, slender and pale-skinned, with long tumbling auburn hair. The Hedgewitch looked up as his wife ran to pick up the child, stepping over the dead girl at her feet to get to him; and she spoke to Allan na Creach then in tones none could disguise "you're child is healed, chieftain, the curse transferred to this one here, who will be bound to protect him for the rest of her life. But know this, and mark my words well - it was your blood, your life that brought him back. As long as you live, he will live like any other man. The day you die, his mortal self will die, and then he will continue on, neither weakened by illness, nor age, nor time. There will be no such respite for this one here - the curse was a part of her from the moment of her creation. Her mother's parting gift, it seems, it she has inherited a human side, though she will never be fully human. She will guard him well.There is more than one type of sacrifice"

And so Caorran Ruadh came into being, borne with all the knowledge,memories and power passed onto her from the Rite; a born vampire it seemed, but half-breed by the gift from the witch and the sacrifice that created her. But this suited her purposes well - from that moment onwards Caorran became the family's constant unearthly companion, and protector of the clan - both revered and feared. Always booted and cloaked, many visitors to the Great Hall marvelled at the ominous figure of the pale silent hooded girl with a fey light in her eyes who stood by the Chieftains right hand; ready a second's bidding to slay them where they stood - and for the moment, this was her place in the world.

The witch kept her word - Ewen recovered and continued on, as if nothing untoward had ever happened to him, whereas Caorran did not age a day from her creation. In 1472, the Chieftain was appointed the Keeper of the Castle of Strone - a MacDonald stronghold on Lochcarron in Ross-shire, as a means of appeasement for the wrongs that had been done to them - but Allan na Creach, twisted and embittered by the events swore revenge on all who stood against him - and Caorran was swift to oblige. The bravest Captain of his time, 32 times he rode into battle during expeditions in to his enemy's country, each time Caorran rode by his side; her blade delivering a quick death to all who crossed their path. But his anger was to prove their undoing - Ewen, a man of 19 by this time, accompanied them on their final skirmish - a raid upon MacIntosh's lands in 1480 - where they were thwarted by relative & neighbour Keppoch who lead a counter-assault to the Clan's rear. In the bloody fray that followed Caorran found herself battling on the ground, amongst the sweat and mud and dying men & horses; only to find herself faced with a split-second choice - to save either Ewen or Allan. Bound by the witch's curse, and bound by her love for him, she saved Ewen - and Allan na Creach suffered a fatal blow; dying on the battlefield. In that instant, everything changed - not only did Ewen become the 13th Clan Chief, but as his father died, the witch's words came true - Ewen's human self died, and he became an Immortal. Caorran could only watch, as she dragged him, stunned, from the midst of the fray as the Curse took effect. In the years that followed, she could only reflect on the differences between their shared fate, how he actively avoided sunlight as though it pained him, yet it did not harm him; whereas it had no effect on her. She had a heartbeat, whereas he had none - her bloodlust, however, was something he did not inherit. They toyed with their gifts, although they did not explore them; and having no others to compare themselves to, neither knew what they actually were; instead drawing contentment from each other.

Ewen's marriage of convinence to the MacIntosh Chieftain's daughter did nothing to stem the bloodshed between the two clans, nor Caorran's fury; for although he had her love he knew there was little he could do to turn the tide of death unleashed by her quest for vengence. However, between Caorran and Ewen, they had a new stronghold built at Torcastle and hitherto the Chieftain's residence moved to a small islets in Lochiel, just off the loch-shore from Corpach, and from there they captained their clansmen through years of battles and feuds, Caorran the Red being the one to lead the clansmen into battle after battle - nearly annihilating the Frasers and the Grants in 1544. But always she returned to him, loyal to the last, his lover, his Protector.

But yet, two years later, whispered tales of Ewen's ungodly exsistance reached the ears of his life-long enemies; the Huntley's. They paid wandering mercenaries to launch an attack under the cover of darkness and captured Ewen - Caorran returning home from a hunt, felt his call, and gave chase - catching up to them on the road not far from Huntley's stronghold. She freed Ewen from his bonds, and started venting her fury, slaying his captors one by one - pausing only at the last man. Throwing a Cameron tartan plaid at him, Caorran made the grovelling human put it on - and promptly ripped the head from his body, before tying his corpse to the horse and setting it at a run towards the Huntley stronghold; by doing so it would hopefully convince them of of Ewen's demise. Now, with Ewen outed, they could not return home, so she turned to join him - only for him to stare at her from the saddle of his horse with a look that pierced her, before spurring it away leaving her behind.

In that moment, Caorran knew that he was lost to her.

She returned to the clan briefly, but began to shun the sunlight and life around her. Her mind in darkness, she took her leave - travelling at night wherever the road would take her, killing indiscriminately, yet always feeling the pull of her bond to Ewen that would never let her rest. For centuries Caorran Ruadh travelled, to england, through europe, travelling under the english version of her name - Rowan. At times hiring out her skills to the highest human bidders, at other times living out in the wild; but always following the signs she percieved in her dreams, hoping to catch up with Ewen - several times, arriving in a place only for Rowan to feel like she had just missed him - but never once seeing him again. And in all her travels, for all her searching, Rowan could not come across another being like her; one to answer her questions, one to help her figure out exactly what she is and her place in this world . . . . . . and at last, she surmised she must truely be alone.

And so, as Caorran Ruadh had done many times before, she returned to her scottish ancestral home, and in the company of her kinsmen, laid herself down to sleep . . . . . only to find herself awakened by dreams of blood, great beasts, and death . . . and Ewen watching it all from the shadows of somewhere she was sure she knew.

Personality: Caorran Ruadh is incredibly wary, having never encountered anyone other than humans apart from Ewen; she is patient enough to observe people from a distance before revealing her presence to them. Her slenderness belies her strength, for she is a warrior first and foremost, and has no qualms in killing those who are foolhardy enough to try to cross her. Caorran's life has had but a single purpose, the seeming abandonment and unfufilment of that purpose is something of an open wound to her. She is not quick to anger, but when when provoked is extremely dangerous. To those she cares for, she is undeniably loyal and generous and would die in their defence; but yet not overly affectionate - her heart was broken once and she has never let anyone close to her again. Caorran Ruadh's existance is a closely guarded secret amongst the Cameron's of Lochiel, who are sworn to protect both her (and Ewen) with their lives.