Cillian Tighernach
Hugh Jackman as Cillian
Fullname Cillian Tighernach
Birthday April 5th, 1016AD
Species Werewolf
Age 992, appears 24
Height 6'0"
Weight 195lbs
Eyes Amber/Brown
Hair Brown
Occupation Construction Worker


Cillian was born in 1016 AD in a small village along the coast of Ireland, south of Dublin, its existence long since wiped out and its name forgotten. At a young age he was taught how to cultivate the land and soon graduated to more arduous work as a blacksmith, though Cillian seemed to enjoy his time at the forge and quickly grew large and strong. The Battle of Clontarf in 1014, two years before his birth, had marked the decline of Viking raids from the north but every so often the Catholic Church of Ireland would gather the men from nearby villages to fend off these periodic invasions. Eventually, Cillian was part of these dwindling battles, and saw a few of them before his twentieth year, though over time these raids became less and less about battles and evolved as the northmen began to assimilate into and expand the Irish culture.

Still, tensions ran high in the villages on the outskirts of the bigger cities, and in the summer of 1030 AD a small band of rough outlaws decided to start a border dispute with Cillian's small village, and attacked without warning. No one had much time to react, and soon thatched roofs were burning, livestock were being stolen, and people were being slain. Cillian had little time to react, but dove into battleto protect his family armed with only his forge hammer. The young man fought well, but was caught off guard and a large, swooping swing of an axe deeply gashed his side. Cillian fell and was left for dead, and around him as he suffered, his life burned to the ground. As night fell, the smoldering ruins of his home illumiated the sky. Cillian was still conscious but fading from blood loss, and managed to prop himself up, leaning back on a broken cart.

Around him he heard the faint shuffle of footsteps, and thought that the raiders had returned to finish off anything they might've left behind, or maybe a petty thief come to scavange the charred remains. Breathing shallowly, Cillian's dark eyes searched the hazy twilight for the man, and soon a gentle figure ghosted in front of his eyes. It was a woman, beautiful, fair, and as she came into sight, Cillian thought it looked as though she were searching for something. He noticed, too, that she was robed in a creamy white linen much like the druids of the past. When she saw him, she smiled sadly and approached. Cillian asked, "Are ye' an angel?" The woman shook her head, and knelt in the dirt beside him.

"My name is Gabriella," she whispered, lightly touching Cillian's cheek as she eyed the viscious gash in his side. Her fingers were hot to the touch, and he tried to shake his head, to tell her such a pretty young lady should not be in a place like this. She did not let him speak, though, and her figertips trailed along his jaw and Gabriella gently held his face in her burning hands. "It is dangerous here for you. I can save you." Cillian smiled. "So, y'are an angel…" he whispered, hoarsely. Again, she shook her head. "There is more in this world than you know. You are in great danger. Will you come with me?" she asked, almost… pleadingly. "Aye… when an angel calls…" And with those words, Cillian was thrown into a parallel world beyond his imagination.

Gabriella leaned forward and kissed him, and her eyes shone with tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and as Cillian looked blearily at her, confused, and she leaned back and took his hand, turning his palm skyward. She looked up to the muted stars and the smokey haze parted, revealing a darkened half moon. What he saw then happened in a flash. Gabriella's form wrenched, and there was a great noise, like the ripping of cloth a thousand times over, and before Cillian could blink, Gabriella was replaced by a large female wolf. Her fur was sandy blonde, the same as Gabriella's hair, and his upturned palm rested gently between her teeth. For some reason, Cillian was not afriad as he looked into her wild, crystal amber eyes, but he gasped at the searing pain that rushed through him when the wolf's teeth quickly bit and sliced through the delicate skin on his wrist.

The pain was imense, but short-lived. Cillian doubled over, feeling as though his body were tearing itself apart. The axe wound in his side was nothing in comparrison. He thought he screamed. Then it was over, and when he opened his eyes the female wolf was still in front of him, sitting calmly and watching with those intensely amber eyes. The dull orange of the fires had faded, and the moon was almost full; it must have been days and he wondered if she had been sitting there that whole time? His side ached with a dull throb, and he glanced to examine his wounded side. Cillian stared. His form was changed, mirroring the wolf in front of him, and his gashed side was all but closed up, the pain replaced but only a dull ache, and covered with thick fur. He looked down at his feet, and in their place were paws. Aghast, Cillian cried out, but the sound that came from his maw was a gutteral growl mixed with a low whine.

"Hush," came Gabriella's familiar voice, seeming to echo across his consciousness, and the wolf before him stepped forward, laid back her ears and touched her nose under his neck. The gesture seemed to calm him, though Cillian stood now in mute astonishment, not knowing what to think or what to do. "Come," ghosted Gabriella's voice a second time as the wolf's eyes seemed to smile at him before she turned around and trotted away. "Run with me." With that gentle command Cillian's paws moved him forward, and he followed Gabriella away from the ruins of his home. They ran across the valleys and hills, through forests and across the rocky beaches, past high stone cliff faces. The farther he ran, the stronger he felt. He focused on the movement of his body, the pounding of his paws on the ground, and felt the rush of blood through his veins. He watched in front of him every subtle movement of Gabriella's form, heard her steady breathing, and felt deeply in his soul what it was to be wolf.

For a long time after his transformation Cillian remained close to Gabriella. He learned of his new existence, of the Children of the Moon, and their struggle against the Cold Ones. Though she never quite told him how they came to be, at times Cillian thought that God have given him a second chance at life. His little dance with death the day his village was burned deepend his already strong faith, and the pack bonds between he and Gabriella cemented in him a new reason for existing. Over the centuries, he developed a deep affection for his Alpha, something that bordered on love, and he knew that he would follow Gabriella to the end of the world if he had to.

Many centuries went by, and Gabriella's pack remained small, though she had other contacts across Ireland and throughout eastern Europe. There were times when Cillian found himself fighting for his homeland against numerous invasions, by the Normans and the English, and defending his faith in the wake of the religious wars. Each battle, each protest, each encounter with men seemed to be manipulated by the Cold Ones on some way, as if their small factions were somehow pulling unseen strings. It frustrated the young wolf to see his countrymen so used by these abominations, and at times his temper flared his nationalistic tendencies and would get the better of him.

The land disputes between the Norman Lords and the English crown were long and bloody, but managable. 1348 AD saw the coming of the Black Death, a devestating disease that swept through the densely populated English and Norman cities, leaving the more sparsely populated Irish settlements relatively untouched. While Cillian felt a surge of pride at seeing his Gaelic history revived at the expense of the conquerors, the cause of the Death weighed heavy on his small pack and Alpha. Gabriella's investigation into the Death and its possible link to the Cold Ones led the two to journey to Scotland. They had dug up rumors of a small coven helping to spread the disease and who were reaping the rewards of bolstered ranks once the Plague had taken its toll.

In the Spring of 1350, Gabriella decided to get in the way of the covens yet again, and take their potential ranks away. Their noses lead them to a small farm, but the smell of vampire was already thick in the air and the stench told them they were already too late. Still, Cillian felt something strange come over his Alpha, and she moved through the farmstead in the same searching manner she had done over 300 years ago when she found him. Inside, they came across a man who lay dying, a dagger wound straight through his middle. Cillian fell back in the doorway, watching, feeling the memories of his own near death surging in his mind, but Gabriella did not hesitate. Behind the man's eyes Cillian saw his desire to die, to let go of whatever pain the covens had put him through, but he would not go against his Alpha's wishes. Gabriella would save him, whether or not he wanted to be saved. WhenRonan Connelly's transformation was complete, he did not run with them. Instead, he ran from them. Cillian could not know, but Ronan was the last man Gabriella would ever turn.

Their fight took them to Italy, a country strange and foreign to Cillian, and they banded with other packs gathering there against the covens, but the Volturi were too great in number, too strong, too quick. They slaughtered Children by the thousands. Gabriella was lost and, wounded, Cillian fled to his homeland both at his Alpha's last command and out of fear. For many years he and other Children across Europe hid from the covens, from the Volturi, and lived as normal as they could. Over time, the Children became hard to find, though the occasional Shifter would dance around the edges of his consciousness. Cillian settled in the low lands and for many years kept to himself. For food he hunted both as man and wolf, whatever suited him, and while Lords and Kings fought over his precious homeland, he remained isolated and alone.

As the centuries dragged on Cillian drifted from place to place across the green isle, skirting land disputes and the bloodshed made by the English crown. At times he lived solely in the wilderness, traveling on four paws, while at other times he drifted into settlements and took up his smithing trade again to have some human contact, though he could never stay in one place for too long. Each English dynasty brought more bloodshed to his homeland, and in each battle Cillian still found traces of the Cold Ones manipulating the strings from behind the stage. Still, when the covens weren't involved, his hands still shed English blood to defend his home and his faith. His most recent participation in the Irish War of Independence flared his nationalism as quickly as it boiled his hot blood. His pride is still reeling from that recent era of war, though his journey to Forks, Washington, and the whispers of the Children arising again have begun to cool his Irish temper, and his attention is again being directed at the Cold Ones.


With all that Cillian has seen throughout the centuries, it would make sense to most if he were quiet, reserved, maybe even shy. He is not, however, any of these things… at least, not on the outside. Among crowds he is a jovial sort of fellow, always with a smile on his face and enjoys making pleasant conversation with total strangers. He's found that many people are enamoured with his lilting manner of speech, and obligies by telling stories or even by striking up a rousing rendition of an Irish Rebel song (something near and dear to his heart). Like any Irishman he's fond of his beer and enjoys a night at the pub, and likes to rile up the crowd when he's there. Outside of the nightlife sphere he isn't too different, and makes his living currently as a construction worker, harking back to his ancient days as a blacksmith.

Cillian is an active chap, and keeps his body healthy (perhaps to counter his heavy drinking), and his take-everything-in-stride personality can, at times, be infectious. The other side of him, however, the side that resides in his thoughts tends to be much more reserved, contemplative, and even pensive. After the War, where the Children nearly vanished from the earth, he spent many ages alone and isolated from the Pack mentality. Even when he ventured into towns here and there for some kind of human contact, it wasn't the same as the Pack. Since his arrival in the States, and the presence of the Pack poking the edges of his consciousness, he's feeling the pull more than ever before. He is fiercely loyal to other wolves and equally as antagonistic towards the Cold Ones; at times, he refuses to speak on the notion of vampires. Cillian is also aware that me might be one of the few oldest remaining Children alive, but he doesn't feel the need to use his age and experience as some sort of badge of honor, or reason to push others around.


Name Relationship Description
Abbey Wallace Friend One of the Alphas of the ShadowStalkers and the first wolf Cillian met in Forks. They hit it off, even going for a run in their wolf forms in the woods.
Sarah Smith Acquaintance Cillian met the officer when someone called her about his fire in the woods. She came to check it out, ended up staying because she couldn't find her way to her car - they grabbed a beer later.
Brian Landon Friend Beta of the ShadowStalkers - he met the man at the bar where he works. They get along so far.

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