Name: Noctis Lucis Caelum
Nickname: Noct | Chaos
Looks: He's a lean, mean arting machine. All extraneous truths aside, Noctis is rather slim. Blessed with having washboard abdominal muscles and in fact, muscles everywhere, the grayish-black haired rabble-rouser has worked hard with what he was given; toning and shaping his body into a well oiled unit. How else could he deliver such efficient and unpredictable bouts of unnecessary evil to those around him? Accenting and decorating those muscles are the array of tribal tattoos the ne'er-do-well has. There are a fair few; multitudinous in both colour and number. From head to toe: two tattoos of tomoes on Noctis' shoulders, ringed with triangles, the innermost inked in black, the outermost inked in blue and red; a tattoo of some sort of beast running from his back all the way up to his neck and coming around onto his chest -- the tail of the beast lines up perfectly with Noctis' spine, and seems to be crowned with two billowing and gaunt wing bones; tattoos of swirls around his upper arms inked in black; two tattoos of flames decorating his wrists, in alternating colours of blue and red. The multiple tattoos are Noctis' symbol of his rebellion; they go against the prim and proper look his parents have set up for the family name. Although it hurt to do his own tattoos and the tattoos he got others to do were equally, if not more painful, they are all surprisingly well inked.
Noctis is a fairly handsome man, with certainly inoffensive features on his visage. His nose isn't prominent; his teeth are straight and white. One could say that he resembles his parents, in a way. But then one would end up dead. Noctis detests this fact, and as such has gone out of his way to differentiate himself: his grayish-black hair grows to his shoulders and is untidy; his blue eyes are wild. Hanging from his ears are ring earrings, made from some expensive metal from some remote region.
In terms of clothing, Noctis could be described as a minimalist: he wears but a black jacket and black pants. The jacket has long sleeves, but often Noctis is content to roll them up and display his flame tattoos. He wears black trousers with a tight fit, crowned with an inexpensive black belt which is adorned with holsters, making it some kind of utility belt. He doesn't actually use it for this unless it's opportune to do so; often there are just various dog tags hanging from it. According to Noctis they're a metaphor or some other ambiguous crap. On his feet are black insulated combat boots, for all kinds of weather -- although when he purchased them he did not have this knowledge. Still, at least he's kind of protected.
Personality:You'd perhaps expect a man whose parents are diligent ninjas to have been raised in such a fashion that their ideals are rigid and decorous. Perhaps you'd also expect said parents to be proud of their offspring; another ninja to the force -- one with much promise, no doubt, especially considering the lineage. Unfortunately, Noctis did not live up to the hype. In fact, he outright hated the fuss everyone seemed to make about him: why was he so special? It was a question he often found himself asking while genin waited on him hand and foot, although not so often when they brought him toys and other such materialistic treats. On the contrary, Noctis is a delinquent. Plain and simple; trouble is game, and he wishes it was his name. He loves to create chaos, if only for the attention it brings him -- for the wrong reasons. It would appear as though Noctis is on a mission to make everyone around him rue the day they bought into the image of a family of ninjas, big-headed, big-paid and, in his opinion, big shitheads. In this way, he's quite the hypocrite, unashamedly so too; lavish things are only for those named Noctis Lucis Caelum, and everyone else must work for it: if he doesn't feel like you've experienced such travails then the black haired rabble rouser is quick to judge you as a baby born with the silver spoon in its mouth.
Impulsive, tactless and single-minded, Noctis can be likened to a freight train when he gets it in his head that something is wrong and he has to do something about it; nothing, absolutely nothing, and nobody, can stop him pursuing his belief right 'til the very end. He'll become selfish -- more selfish than he already is, at any rate -- sadistic, cold and calculating just to see the goal to the finish line. With a puerile charm he can flick on and off like a light switch, Noctis is surprisingly adept at being manipulative. Or rather, it seems like Noctis is surprisingly adept at being manipulative. He'll appear try his damned hardest to keep everyone around him -- baring those he keeps close to his heart -- second guessing at what he'll do next: pull out a knife? Or run away behind a corner and pretend they're playing hide and seek? With Noctis, it's safe to say that no one is safe. Spontaneity is second nature to him, whether or not it's in speech, where he'll run out of relevant things to say and then start offending people, or in action, where he'll simply switch off and walk away from an acquaintance like they were just another face in the street.
However, despite his spontaneous and impulsive nature, Noctis has a deep sense of loyalty to those who've earned his respect -- those people are few and far between, and stored in a corner of his brain labeled 'don't kill; need around'. Despite how he may appear to be, Noctis is not a particularly decent human being. His impulsiveness perhaps allows him to not really understand the gravity of his actions, but really his parents are making excuses for him. He's a rotten child, with black hate-filled marrow in his bones. It's far too easy for him to run away from the fact that he's killed before -- that's why he embraces it. The hard way is so much more entertaining to Noctis; moreover it causes more problems for the people around him, and isn't that the most delightful spectacle? To the inked in troublemaker it certainly is.
Noctis has killed before. He will kill again. He has a perturbing volition to spill the blood of all he engages in combat with; through a twisted form of association Noctis has come to realize that the more blood he spills, the more likely it is that people will discredit his parents for the lousy job of raising a child they did and maybe even defame his family name. Maybe he's insane -- hell, he probably is insane. But Noctis has a real hankering for seeing his parents -- or even anyone around him -- crawl tooth and nail back up the social ladder, or at the very least struggle to stay in the comfortable state they've no doubt created for themselves. And to Noctis, blood is equal to triumph. It reflects in the sadistic way he utilizes his Kekkai Genkai: the more of the target's insides that end up outside, the greater the sanguine success. Maybe it's a metaphor; maybe Noctis sees the blood he spills on being on the hands of the ninjas and everyone who bought into the lie of a 'chosen one'.
As a self-proclaimed 'artist', as evidenced by the multitude of tattoos upon his person -- which were either self-inked or done in a parlour to his own specific design -- Noctis is quite partial to living off the clothes on his back and subsisting on little more than scraps. Of course, this doesn't mean he won't complain famously about such hard times -- often he puts irking other people before his own well being. Perhaps he is determined, perhaps he is crazy: all that can be said is that Noctis is a unique person in his own right, and that knowledge is his little piece of freedom from the world of prestige he's being dragged into. And maybe that's his sole redeeming quality, if there is to be light in this dark abyss he calls a heart. He knows what he wants -- freedom, pure and unadulterated, and it exhilarates him; a feeling that the world is your time bomb and it's all up to you when it'll explode... And it's that feeling he lives for. It's that feeling that drives him, that feeling that he'll do anything to attain again; it's like a drug, and if that's the case then Noctis doesn't ever want to get off. Boundless hedonism; perhaps the only heroic thing he'll ever achieve; ironically the only thing he truly wants. It goes against what the higher-ups want and maybe that's why he wants it so badly.
Village of Birth:
Village of Alliance:
Rank and Chakra Information
Ninja Rank: Kage
Specialty: Fire | Wind | Taijutsu
Elements: Water | Wind | Earth | Fire | Lightning |
Your ninjutsu: Genjutsu | Taijutsu | Ninjutsu | King Cheetah Summoning | Kenjutsu | 2 Tomoe Sharingan
The abandoned Konohgakure ANBU Base is an odd place to have a baby.
That's what people kept saying weeks after Enka and Bellum Caelum announced their plans. But people talk all the time, especially in a place such as the ANBU base; without communication there'd be no effective way to discover and deal with missing-nin running rampant near Konohagakure. Still, Enka and Bellum would come to rue this same communication. It was, after all, the conduit through which rumors spread; rumors that developed into hype, and hype that caused their child to hate them all. At any rate, for the weeks running up to the birthing, the incredibly successful ANBU Captain and Jounin -- husband and wife -- were doing a good job of proving that you don't have to die to get to heaven. People were happy to wait on them hand and foot, were happy to oblige the expecting couple and for the months before their child was born one could have been forgiven for thinking some Nobles, or even the council, had set up shop in the ANBU Base. The child was to be the son of two great up and coming ninjas -- surely he'd be the best of both of them? And with that reasoning Enka and Bellum's colleagues started to champion the unborn, toting him as 'The Chosen One' or 'The Next Big Thing'. One even went so far as to say 'The End of All Evil' was rumbling in the Jounin's stomach. Something was brewing in Enka's stomach, although something much more akin to the deepest, darkest and deadliest trouble than the golden boy the ninjas of Konoha had expected.
The birth itself was not out of the ordinary. Enka and Bellum took leave for a few months after the birth. People took happy photos with the baby when the off-duty couple came to visit, many gifts were received and the after-birth glow Bellum carried seemed to be contagious; everywhere she went with her newborn, people would start to smile. She had named him Noctis, with no arguments from the father, and so Noctis the boy became.
Like most children growing up, Noctis soon became accustomed to being pampered -- although for the early years in his life it was because of his age, and not of his name. Mummy and Daddy were rich, and so what the baby wanted the baby got. Perhaps that was the first step in his journey to becoming a spoiled brat. At any rate, life was fairly uneventful for Noctis in his early years: when he was 18 months old Enka went back to work, and after his second Christmas Bellum followed. A childminder became the most prominent figure in the young Noctis's day to day life; it was she he would go to when he wanted something now, not mother, not father -- they were too busy being good ninjas. Day after day they'd come home from work -- or if Noctis was lucky, during their lunch break -- and tell of all the nasty missing-nin they'd been busy defeating, and pontificate on how fortunate little Noctis was to have parents so diligent such as they: they're work was directly responsible for the level of safety the tyke was provided with. When they came home, Noctis's eyes would proverbially cloud over with stars; he bought into all the stories of gallant escapades and glorious victory. How could he not? They were his parents; he had to believe what they said. If he didn't, what was there to believe in?
Despite the supposed celebrity of his parents, the novelty of it soon wore off on Noctis. Why didn't he get to see them perform such feats? It was like the story of the child factory he was told whenever he was naughty: where was said child factory? Why was there no army of children ready to take it down? The questions he asked were never answered, not for a long time anyway. Two years passed and Noctis was deemed old enough to come with his parents to work. This would prove to be the beginning of a hellish era -- for those ranked S-jounin and below, at any rate. Spoiled children and workplaces of high stress are like cheese and chalk; they don't mix well together. Still, to complain would be tantamount to asking to be fired, and so they kept as quiet as they could, did as best as they could.
However, he was a child. He had no clue that he ruined people's livelihoods when he told his parents he never wanted to see a certain ninja again.
When he found out he was ecstatic.
That was the first sign Noctis was breaking the script. Alas, he was but six years old; little children are allowed to be so badly behaved -- people would worry if they didn't act so naughtily. Jounin Enka simply waved away complaints, and, if it was a bad day, sent warnings after them. Their job was to entertain Noctis when more important matters were calling the attention of Enka and Bellum -- unfortunately for the lesser ninjas of Konoha that seemed to be almost every waking minute of every day. He wanted ice cream. They got it. He wanted chocolate ice cream at -10 degrees Celsius with exactly 208 sprinkles on the top of colors lilac and vermilion. They got it. Every demand right down to the last syllable was carried out with a facade of gusto: to Noctis it appeared that the ninjas around him delighted in doing as he asked. This didn't sit well with him. He wanted to break their spirits with the puerile glee only a sadistic child can possess. He wanted chocolate ice cream at -10 degrees Celsius with exactly 208 sprinkles on the top of colors lilac and vermilion? They got it. Wrong, that is. Did he say -10 degrees? He meant -10.73. And seventy-one of these sprinkles are larger than the others. Sorry. Try again. No buts -- else I'm telling daddy!
And so the story went for many a ninja. But Noctis's parents refused to take any notice. This was the wrong way to go about things; it only made the black haired rabble-rouser more determined to get their attention by doing bad things. It was not until later Noctis discovered the way people thought about him; when that particular bombshell hit his mission for attention garnered a whole new dynamic: defaming the Caelum name would be then more than just a cry for attention; it would be Noctis tearing down everything his parents believed in so that he could start afresh, start the pursuit of freedom with now burdening background holding him down. When his mission was complete he'd be soaring on the high; flying at such altitude that he could touch the edge of dreams... It was with these thoughts Noctis decided to take up art at the age of ten. He was mainly interested in tribal art -- they did, after all, most closely resemble the rudimentary doodles the typical ten year old child, and in this case Noctis, was capable of. As with most things the more you practice the more proficient you become, and so the same went for the little troublemaker; he quickly grew adept at drawing and painting. The audacious requests changed in nature from silly and exact to vague and ambiguous; perhaps a reflection of the change of interest. Art was, and is, something that can only be expressed -- not defined. And it was for this reason the lesser ninjas of Konoha discovered that there are things worse than hell and their leader is named Noctis Lucis Caelum.
A title he relished.
For the years between Noctis being allowed to come to work with his parents and eventually enrolling in the ninja academy, Konoha became his warped domain with him at the tower; twisting and breaking and generally deforming every statute presented to him into semi-amusing shapes. Unfortunately the world revolved around the tyke, so the people had to contort along with the place in which they worked; soon they were nothing but a reflection of their former selves: Konoha's performance record actually went down as a direct result of Noctis's involvement with the people there. A good telling off from his Father made the declining line start to lift again, but everyone around him -- that he saw normally, at least (his parents never seemed quite affected) -- became haggard and beleaguered. A burden was on their shoulders, and it was shouting impatiently to zoom faster.
When he was finally sent to the ninja academy he was kept close to home. The nearest island that was used for such a purpose lacked a name, only known to those who have been there and those who set up the facilities there as Magnolia. It was, and is, a small island that has nothing but the ninja-sponsored training facilities there -- nothing out of the ordinary: an athletics field; a dojo; two three story buildings' worth of classrooms and dorms. Noctis went without complaint, although this was most likely because he was asleep when he was shifted. Awaking in unfamiliar surroundings was not what the blonde haired rabble-rouser was expecting nor appreciative of; the doors of everyone he thought was a 'somebody' in the dorms was smashed down with reckless abandon. No apologies. No introductions. Just screaming to get the hell off this island and back to Konoha. As someone with a little more tact would expect, this did not go down. His -- at times -- hysterical shrieks were rebuked with paperwork and signatures. Noctis was signed to stay here until he completed his training. And there was not a damn thing he could do about it.
But how many times had he heard that?
And how many times had they rued the words...
Too often. These guys were rookies. And they would pay. Noctis devised many a plan, and some went as thus:
Every morning. Up at 4. Knock on all the doors. Impersonate the ninja officials. Amass a crowd of irate, tired and easily manipulated people. Call crazy orders -- perhaps today use "scrub the walls with green toothbrushes". Remain in bed until actual wake up call. Watch on innocuously as all others are punished.
But that didn't do much to annoy the supervisors, did it... Perhaps this was better:
Every morning. Wake up at 4. Fill brown envelope with shaving cream. Repeat four times. Find head supervisor's room. Slip under door. Jump on all envelopes. Remove evidence.
Better... better indeed. And so it was done. Noctis wasn't ashamed to come clean to his peers -- the only catch was for them; if they told, they'd never make it off of Magnolia alive. Noctis easily proved himself the strongest out of the new batch of ninjas. He also proved himself the most disruptive and the hardest to accept into the force. Year after year after year he was held back; told that he'd never make it into a fully fledged ninja until he conformed to the supremacy of the black and blue. But this was Noctis they were talking about -- did they seriously expect him to change his mind? He said as such too. In fact, he said as such to his father. Enka, being both a genius at dealing with his son, despite the little time he spent with him, and not wanting to garner a reputation of having a failure of a ninja for a son, proposed something wholly different.
One was destined to come from Konoha -- and who better than his son? A Caelum, so powerful that the threat of him becoming a pirate was so great that the World Government needed him on their side. Not what he had first envisioned -- he'd be the first to admit -- but still great. And a Caelum had to be great. He had to be. And so, papers were signed and Noctis was whisked away from Magnolia, whisked away from all the conformity, and a new mission was set out for him.
To become a Legend!