The White Raven

Cloven Wasloth

Code Name: White Raven
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Birthday: February 17th
Birthplace: Cork, Ireland.
Current Residence: Suribachi City, Yokohama
Occupation: Hitman

It is rare for Cloven to ever get mad or irritated. Mostly, he finds himself caught up in feelings of curiosity and comfort. It doesn't matter which part of the world he is located in, Cloven will find an easy way to make it into his nest. He refuses to give power to any type of inconveniences and takes his time when making decisions. When it comes to fight or flight, Cloven stands his ground, fearlessly plunging himself into death. After learning about his ability, Cloven gained confidence and rid himself of doubt and paranoia.

Dying sucks he says, But if you do it a lot, then you just kinda start treating as a joke, y'know? I feel like I am seriously respawning in a video game

Usually humorous, Cloven takes it easy, and incredibly contradicts most people that he surrounds himself with. Somehow, he loves being around stressed angry company, providing the means of relaxation and thriving to be the shoulder to lean on while occupying himself with a dangerous art. He has a strong feeling of righteousness and believes that people that die or get killed have earned their place in that Pyramid. However, he deeply resents people who cut lives short for their own enjoyment. He lives for fair justifications, treating every job as a whole court and order scenario.

Despite his rather tamed surface, Cloven has a dark side. Known for his white rage, the hitman has one trigger that sends him off the rails into a murderous unforgiving state. If someone dares to mention his sister Cyra, they are doomed to be mercilessly killed, which contradicts Cloven's very ideology of living. Thankfully, information about his sister has never reached the public records and ears, so it remains a secret deep within his heart. Additionally, Cloven is unable to form close intimate connections with people. After severing his mental balance with his family, Cloven never learned the concept of settling down with a significant other or a friend. He often drifts away from people , leaves them on their own without saying goodbye. He is mostly loyal to himself and his jobs/contracts rather than people.

Other notable qualities:
-Manipulative
-Charming and soft-spoken
-Cold-hearted to things that bother him
-Absent in his mind when alone

HISTORY

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Born into a family of paranoid pagans, Cloven was immediately spotted out as an oddity for his albinism. Serving as a symbol of a Devil's child, he was hidden and never announced by his family, leaving the rest of a small village just outside of Cork, Ireland wondering where the ghostly cries came from. In order to prevent the "Ragnarok" his family deemed him to bring in his adulthood, Cloven was disciplined and trained by his father who was a war veteran. His daily routine resulted in endless training ranging from running miles to nightly shifts to train his eyes to see well in the dark as well as during the day. Often starved and dehydrated, Cloven was forced to learn the harsh ways of life, while being neglected by his fearful mother. Given a sniper rifle at the age of 14, Cloven dedicated himself to his father's strict demands to find the best ways to stalk and recognize the target. He was tasked to hunt birds in the woods. Rather enjoying himself, Cloven made the mistake of looking through the scope of his rifle for a long time, unaware of his surroundings. Before he realized his folly, it was too late. Cloven managed to trip over a few naked roots and fall off a cliff that rested near a stream. He broke most of his bones and neck by the time he landed, ending his life instantly. It was then when he discovered his ability. Waking up nude and sore on the other side of the stream, Cloven found himself covered in dark bruises as if they were there for weeks instead of just a couple minutes. Near him, a blasted corpse of a raven and the rest of his clothing and rifle on the other side of the beach where he initially died. Baffled by the discovery, Cloven decided to keep the gift a secret, buying into the idea that maybe his parents were right, he was in fact the son of the Devil. Returning with the corpse, Cloven kept it to later acquire the skull that remained with him as a good luck charm.

His life continued to exist in the same harsh conditions before his fated sixteenth's birthday.

On that day, Cloven welcomed his young sister Cyra into the world. A blond little girl that looked nothing like her brother but finally matched the traits of her family. His parents immediately praised her, considering it a miracle. However, Cloven, broken by his family's neglect and pained by seeing Cyra laugh, realized that she might have the same learning experience when the time comes. Fearing for his sister's childhood being potentially ruined, Cloven decided to craft a clever plan for their escape after Cyra was a bit more grown up.

Exactly five years later, the Wasloth family's fated Ragnarok came to fruition.

With Cyra in his arms, Cloven left the family home but not without a parting gift. Dousing each room with gasoline discovered in the garage, Cloven covered his slumbering parents with the last droplets of the flammable liquid. Standing aside, he pulled out a box of matches and threw it on their bed after igniting it. Immediate flame, feet scrambling to get out of the house, screams devoured by a strong scent of fire and death. The Wasloth house was no more, leaving Cloven watching his parents burn alive from the tinted windows of the stolen car while Cyra slept peacefully in the back seat. She would never learn about her parents' fate for Cloven would make her believe they were abandoned in a foster home.

The next years proved to be rough. Cloven assumed the role of a brother and parent immediately, driving for endless miles to find himself stranded in the heart of England without a job. Luckily, his early disciplines proved to be useful as he found himself performing mercy killings for rich families and shady people in the black market. Hired one time after another, Cloven made sure to make his odd job career a secret, allowing Cyra to grow up thinking Cloven was a real-estate agent. Soon, he was able to spoil her and get them a better housing condition. However, his employees found Cloven extremely wasteful and neglectful of his true potential with his sister tied to him since he refused to use Avis Mortem as a promise to her. Thus, one fateful night, Cyra was kidnapped by his employers and savagely killed. Her death was recorded and sent to Cloven disguised by a film made by the employers' competitors. Discovering the great tragedy, Cloven lost it, going onto a suicide mission to destroy the innocent competitors and thus earn a full-time job at the black market company. However, after accomplishing his revenge, Cloven didn't stop. His employers paid for it dearly as he found them guilty of not fulfilling their part of the bargain and keeping his family safe. Unbeknownst to him, true justice was served and Cloven forever left the United Kingdom.

Scattering himself throughout the world, Cloven returned to his hitman career after a three-year recovery hiatus. This time, he places strict conditions on his potential contracts, demanding that they provide clear evidence that their orders are justified and will serve society more good than bad. He attempts to serve the better side in honor of his sister lost dream of a World that Smiled Just a Little More.

ROLEPLAY SAMPLE FROM A MY HERO ACADEMIA THREAD:

When called upon, Cloven always had a choice. Being free lance allowed a killer to say no too many things, especially when those things didn't satisfy his criteria. If someone deserved to die, then Cloven named a price, no matter if friend or foe. Hell, if paid heftily, he would kill his parents all over again, though he was never a lover of torture. Quick and easy. The faster he could move on and satisfy his clients, the greater his luxurious life became. And what of luxury? Aimlessly walking along the edge of rooftops, playing the balancing act between life and death with no fuel in his worn gear. There was something so gorgeous about the way birds invaded the skies knowing that at any minute their lives could end in a horrid accident. And yet. Oh yet!

Black Market. Perhaps the last organization that Cloven expected to be contacted by. Again. Checking the catalog of throats that required cutting, the White Raven discovered that several members of the establishment were in queue for bloodshed. Perhaps the call was Lady Fortune's little trick of light, blinding Cloven with a new opportunity to get something out of it. If whomever he was meeting had a valid reason, and price, to buy out their lives, then the sniper would drop any questions. This world was ruled by money, the mere societal construct of invisible power that strangled anyone who questioned it. Cloven abused it like a beaten puppy, squeezing its neck in his grasp as his bullets left bodies bleeding in alleyways. His pockets were filled but he never dared to resign. Human puppets that are paranoid to have enemies? What did this raven do to deserve such a heaven?

His body shifted forward, falling backwards from the edge of a building that housed the place he requested for the rendezvous. The jet packs on his thighs puffed invisible force that stabilized the hit man after an improvised somersault in midair. Landing filmy, Cloven pressed the soles of his black oxfords against the dry pavement of the sidewalk just across the street from the restaurant. He wondered if his guest was going to sit at the bar, drinking away their worries, or perhaps already having lunch. Humming, the hit man slid his thumbs over the tailored rims of his long white coat, working out the winkles on his shoulders. A smile threaded into his lips like a painting, barely visibly freckles on his pale complexion wrinkling as the man sneezed into a swiftly emerged red handkerchief. Somehow the change of gravity always made him feel like he had a cold for a minute. Guess he would never get over his extremes.

Shaking the crimson cloth to drop the bacteria onto the ground, Cloven folded it into a triangle before hiding it into the inside pocket of his coat. Running his slender fingers over his snow-white locks that rested just above his shoulders, the hit man finally concluded that he was ready for first impressions. He seemed to look friendly enough as he gazed at his reflection in one of the vitrines of nearby stores. Well, not fully. He forgot to consider a menacing sniper rifle that rested against his back, cocking diagonally as it flashed its dark muzzle and a crow skull covering the glistening lens of the scope. Clicking his tongue, Cloven smiled lovingly as his firearm, winking at its reflection.

"You look gorgeous, darling, no need to be shy." The albino purred quietly before pushing inside the establishment. He barely cared about the uproar he might summon bringing such a weapon, however, despite him quite standing out based on his appearance, Cloven knew that no one would give two-shits about Osiris. She was a part of his body and who would really care about an extra arm in this world? Hands slipping into his pockets, Cloven stalked forward, head leaning to the side as he approached the bartender to inquire about his contact. A mere glance told the White Raven everything he needed to know before discovering the one and only. Cards? How curious.

At first, the hit man observed the waitress that occupied the owner of a quite impressive hat. Cloven liked it actually though he knew he would look silly in it. Stepping closer and closer, Wasloth remained standing nearly directly behind the waitress, his height allowing him to peer over her head and gaze upon the trickster's show. His smile widened as he recognized that a deal was made for two beers, however, as much as Cloven didn't drink, his voice remained hidden behind his teeth as he watched the waitress hurry away, too busy being flustered to notice a towering killer behind her.

"My, what a charmer." Silky velvet fell from the Raven's lips like a serpent temping Eve to devour the apply. Leaning forward, Cloven allowed his fingers to grasp the stranger's hat from the table, flipping it over to place it upon his white head. At he thought, it wasn't fitting, but he had to admit it ignited style. Classic, really.
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