TheMulletWhispererJun 03, 2015Jun 03, 2015 at 08:59 AM
#1
@TheMulletWhisperer
image no longer hosted — http://i.imgur.com/ZGjjC4G.jpg[/img]
Name: Hadreus Veltilius
Race: Imperial
Appearance
Dark, brown hair, often mistaken for a shade of black. Sideburns, that which some would call Mutton Chops, adorn the sides of his face, the same shade as the hair atop his head. Dark eyes, almost ebony colored. His face is pale and untarnished by scarring.
Background
Hadreus lived a simple childhood, born in Chorrol to middle-class parents, not too rich, though at the same time, not too poor. From the time of his birth, he showed symptoms of psychopathy, quite uncaring towards near all matters, manipulating his parents and friends from the moment that he could speak. His brain seemed to develop at an unnaturally fast pace, the hand of a Daedra quite possible in this development, as it only seemed to heighten his condition.
It was many years before anything truly became of Hadreus' condition, it was as he came of age, at 18, that he made his first kill, the kill that would forever change his life.
There was no real celebration that day, for him. Despite the fact that he'd become more than adept at faking emotional reactions throughout his time in society, those who truly knew him, knew that they weren't true emotions.
It had been late night, that Turdas eve. Hadreus had received a particularly fine set of clothing earlier that day, a part of this set being a dark, silken cloak which draped down to his calves, nearly dragging along the ground.
His victim approached brashly and rudely, going out of his way to shove past Hadreus. And at that moment, he felt his first -real- emotion. Irritation. Utter, overwhelming annoyance at the rudeness of the man. He wouldn't stand it. Nay, -couldn't- stand it.
He swiped the weapon nearest to him, a long, sharp blade, used to dice meat, a blade that was wickedly sharp. The perfect blade. He tailed the man into one of the many alleyways of the city, slowly, silently. He was never heard, never seen, until his blade pierced the pedestrian's throat, snuffing him out almost immediately, the only sound a mere gurgle.
A gory example was made of him. The details, to this day, haven't been agreed upon, rumor and exaggeration running wild through the streets and papers, though one thing's for certain. It was the most brutal murder to have taken place in the city to date.
The kill gave Hadreus a rush that he hadn't felt before, a satisfaction that he'd been seeking his entire life. So, he continued, soon finding further excitement in taunting the guards with cryptic letters and notes, containing severed parts of his victims, on occasion.
His killings spanned out over many years, claiming a total of seven victims before the Alliance War broke out, and tore his province to pieces. However, this only provided a greater opportunity for him. He fled Cyrodill, where he had been a notorious criminal, though neither his face nor name were known.
He now lurks in the alleyways of the Dominion's cities, and to this day, his victims still turn up, the same notes, same letters, surrounding the brutal crime scenes, known only by the nickname given to him by the populace: "The Watcher".
Personality
Hadreus, on the surface is a pleasant man, sociable and kind. Though these emotions are not in the slightest genuine ones, a simple farce put on by him to disguise his utter emotionless-ness beneath his smiling face. He has next to no tolerance for rude, brash people, as they are often the targets of his killings. He never makes a move against a target without planning, first. He'll remain normal as usual around even those he knows will soon be at the end of his knife, making the target of his next killing near impossible to determine.
This story gets a bit dark, if that kind of thing unnerves you, walk away now wiggles arms spookily
image no longer hosted — http://i.imgur.com/ZGjjC4G.jpg[/img]Name: Hadreus Veltilius
Race: Imperial
Appearance
Dark, brown hair, often mistaken for a shade of black. Sideburns, that which some would call Mutton Chops, adorn the sides of his face, the same shade as the hair atop his head. Dark eyes, almost ebony colored. His face is pale and untarnished by scarring.
Background
Hadreus lived a simple childhood, born in Chorrol to middle-class parents, not too rich, though at the same time, not too poor. From the time of his birth, he showed symptoms of psychopathy, quite uncaring towards near all matters, manipulating his parents and friends from the moment that he could speak. His brain seemed to develop at an unnaturally fast pace, the hand of a Daedra quite possible in this development, as it only seemed to heighten his condition.
It was many years before anything truly became of Hadreus' condition, it was as he came of age, at 18, that he made his first kill, the kill that would forever change his life.
There was no real celebration that day, for him. Despite the fact that he'd become more than adept at faking emotional reactions throughout his time in society, those who truly knew him, knew that they weren't true emotions.
It had been late night, that Turdas eve. Hadreus had received a particularly fine set of clothing earlier that day, a part of this set being a dark, silken cloak which draped down to his calves, nearly dragging along the ground.
His victim approached brashly and rudely, going out of his way to shove past Hadreus. And at that moment, he felt his first -real- emotion. Irritation. Utter, overwhelming annoyance at the rudeness of the man. He wouldn't stand it. Nay, -couldn't- stand it.
He swiped the weapon nearest to him, a long, sharp blade, used to dice meat, a blade that was wickedly sharp. The perfect blade. He tailed the man into one of the many alleyways of the city, slowly, silently. He was never heard, never seen, until his blade pierced the pedestrian's throat, snuffing him out almost immediately, the only sound a mere gurgle.
A gory example was made of him. The details, to this day, haven't been agreed upon, rumor and exaggeration running wild through the streets and papers, though one thing's for certain. It was the most brutal murder to have taken place in the city to date.
The kill gave Hadreus a rush that he hadn't felt before, a satisfaction that he'd been seeking his entire life. So, he continued, soon finding further excitement in taunting the guards with cryptic letters and notes, containing severed parts of his victims, on occasion.
His killings spanned out over many years, claiming a total of seven victims before the Alliance War broke out, and tore his province to pieces. However, this only provided a greater opportunity for him. He fled Cyrodill, where he had been a notorious criminal, though neither his face nor name were known.
He now lurks in the alleyways of the Dominion's cities, and to this day, his victims still turn up, the same notes, same letters, surrounding the brutal crime scenes, known only by the nickname given to him by the populace: "The Watcher".
Personality
Hadreus, on the surface is a pleasant man, sociable and kind. Though these emotions are not in the slightest genuine ones, a simple farce put on by him to disguise his utter emotionless-ness beneath his smiling face. He has next to no tolerance for rude, brash people, as they are often the targets of his killings. He never makes a move against a target without planning, first. He'll remain normal as usual around even those he knows will soon be at the end of his knife, making the target of his next killing near impossible to determine.
Edited Jun 04, 2015 at 02:52 AM by 0