Birth Name: Marcallas of Anatolia
Aliases: Viktor, Thessaly, Jacques Gandieux, Michael Thrace of York, Marc Westen, Michael Smith - mostly aliases used in various countries over the years in which he has lived.
Place of Brith: Anatolia, on the shores of the Black Sea
Age: Born in 1065 A.D., he was turned in 1104 A.D., and so appears to be in his late thirties.
Current Occuptation: Entrepreneur
Past Occupation: Marcallas began his career as a soldier in the Byzantine Army. Since then, he has done a great many things that were necessary for survival, slowly amassing a great fortune, which is currently held in several convenient, internet-accessible offshore banks. He doesn't have to work, but he chooses to, prefering whatever work he sets his mind to, over an indolent life of leisure.
Hair Color: Black
Length and Style: Cropped short
Eye Color: Brown
Skin Color: Tan (not a result of the sun, but his native pigment)
Weight: 300 lbs.
Body Type: Solid - he was a soldier, who kept in the finest physical shape because his life depended on it. He grew to enjoy the regular training that kept fat off his body, and even in unlife, he sees no need to stop something he enjoys. He spends two hours a day in physical training - running, weight lifting, and the martial arts - both those of the East, and the West - to keep his physical and mental senses acute.
Description (if an NPC) or name of your creator/gifter(if a PC): Marcallas was turned as a sign of favor by one of the officers of his tagmata, who at the time was one of the personal bodyguards of Byzantine Emperor Alexios I Komnenos. Justinian was the leader of the guards of the night, who were eternally dedicated to the protection of the Emperor during the hours of night. Only the Emperor was aware of pieces of their true nature; this was a secretive cult of ten men, who only added another to their ranks when a prior one died. As Marcallas was the best of his tagmata when Varius met a fiery doom, he was the one selected to work with these consummate professionals.
1. Personality: Marcallas is a soldier, of a brutal and militarized time. He is blunt, forthright, and intolerant of weakness. He always assesses a room and everyone in it as he enters, he is extremely aware of his surroundings. This makes him come across as very sharp, and quite harsh as well. He can be a jerk, an ass, and a truly nasty person, but he is also honorable, and honest with those he trusts. He finds that killing comes as easily now as it did when he was alive, and he has no pity for those he kills. He doesn't dispense death haphazardly though; when he drinks, he rarely drains to the point of death, prefering not to kill except when there is no further recourse. As he is quite old, he has developed a predilection for philosophy and study as well, but this is a part of him that most will never see.
2. Appearance: Someone watching him enter a room will likely be struck by his size - he is a tall, powerful man, and the Armani suit he tends to wear hardly conceals this from anyone. He prefers to wear sunglasses, so no one can see the direction in which he is looking, but when he takes them off, his eyes are deep and cold, rarely giving anything away.
3. Likes: He likes power, and takes pleasure in owning things. It's not usually the actual objects that he cares about, more what the ownership means. This is of both inanimate and animate objects - he includes humans in the list of things he likes to own. Being a soldier, he has a taste for beer, ale, mead - alcohol in general. Being of common birth, he cares only slightly for elegant meals, though he enjoys them when he has them, he certainly doesn't seek them out. He also likes physical and mental training, getting great satisfaction from both his daily exercise routine, and studies and philosophy.
4. Dislikes: He hates weakness, and has little time for ugliness. He has seen - and caused - enough of that in his lifetime. He hates being dirty, particularly his hands; he goes for a manicure and pedicure once a week, though his soldier past scoffs at such delicacy. He dislikes cars, and strawberries, and rodents.
6. Fears: Marcallas fears being weak, the thought of being prey to someone stronger. He fears fire, not simply because he is a vampire, but because he was trapped in a burning building during an assassination attempt on the Emperor. They got Alexios out safely, but lost two brothers-in-arms that day, and almost lost Marcallas as well. He also fears loss of a vital body part - loss of his hands in particular. There was a particularly weak soldier in his former tagmata, that failed in an important mission, and was punished by the loss of his hands. That punishment still haunt Marcallas to this day.
7A: Strengths: Even before being turned, Marcallas easily sized up dangerous situations, often able to find a way to get to the heart of any danger and eliminate it, sometimes even before it was visible to most others. He is very protective, and has the ability to inspire loyalty from those of a like mind - other soldiers get along with him well, he fits in easily in many situations. He also has an eidetic memory, which allows him to steal fighting techniques through battle or observation.
7B: Weaknesses: Bitchiness isn't just a vampire trait, it's a walk of life - but in his day, they called that being a man! He is short-tempered to a fault, and hard-headed once he makes a specific decision. He can be callous to the feelings or needs of others, unless those are people who intrude on his worldview - and of course those people can be numbered on one hand, with fingers to spare.
Abilities: Agility, Perception, Coat of Arms
Flaws: Won't Feed on (members of the military - based on his feelings of brotherhood from his living days, and the cadre of bodyguards with whom he spent his early undeath), Bitchy
Hobbies & Skills: Marcallas has been a soldier, a bodyguard, and involved in all things martial since 1070, when his father (also a soldier) began teaching him the use of a weapon. After the Komnenos line ended, he travelled to Eastern Asia and spent two centuries studying in an Am Ja in Korea. Upon rejoining the Western world, he started using his skills to support himself, gradually amassing a fortune. Over the years, he has continued to hone his military skills, keeping up with the latest inventions and innovations. He considers it important to keep up with the latest technologies, as well as styles, fashions, and trends - he views it as part of the price of blending into the human world.
Cosmetic Traits: He is tall and muscular, with a square jaw and a small scar at the corner of his left eye. There are more scars on his body, acquired during his life as a soldier. These aren't disfiguring scars, but there are more than a few of them.
Quirks and Habits worthy of mention: He spends time daily in exercise and physical training. He also spends time in study and meditation. He has kept a historical journal of his activities through the many long centuries; historians would likely pay heavily for his perspective on certain events through history in which he was either a participant or a spectator.
Excerpt from the Journal of Marcallas of Anatolia, Volume I, English translation
The years weigh heavily on me this night, and I am compelled to a decision. I will keep a journal, that I might look back and remember. Why would I begin what is to be, I hope, a never-ending task?
I was supping with a brother tonight, on a delightfully petite woman from the other side of the city. As I lifted my head, something about her brown eyes, innocent and wide, reminded me of my sister. I wasn't sure why, and so I thought about her a little more - until I realized I couldn't remember her name. My own sister, my twin as it happened, and I couldn't remember her name.
The thought ruined my dinner, left my hands shaking, and caused me to wander the city for the rest of the night. When I returned, I resolved to write down what matters, so that I don't continue to forget.
I was born by the coast of the Black Sea, to a fisherman and his wife, the oldest of five, including my twin sister - whose name, having spent a long night trying to remember, was Claudia. It was a good life, those first few years spent running free along the shores, the sand in my toes and the sound of the sea in my ears. When my father judged me old enough, he took out a wooden practice sword, made for my hand, and gave it to me. In his youth, my father was a soldier, and he saw training me as a necessity.
To his surprise, I picked it up easily, and grew strong and skilled - or so I thought. When I was old enough, I joined the Army, which was unfortunately small, and falling into disrepair. I found myself at the bottom of my tagmata though; the skills of old soldiers grow rusty with disuse, and the majority of my tagmata were raised with younger, more practiced tutors. I threw myself into my studies and improved, until I stood, not at the bottom, but at the top in skill and strength.
Some years passed, and the Emperor increased the size of the army. There was fighting, and killing, and more training. It was a soldier's life, and it suited me perfectly. Until the night Justinian came.
"Marcallas of Anatolia, you are called to serve the Emperor." It was all he said, but even I could feel the weight of destiny in his words. But I was a soldier, and that was all I knew - service to the Emperor above all.
Little did I know how that was to change my...life.
edit: (Additional clan info)
s far as clans go, he was turned by a member of the Anantya clan, and remained so until the last of the line of the Byzantine Emperors was finally destroyed. He held to a code of honor, of brotherhood, following both the rigors and strictures of the Anantya and of the Guard of the Night, the tamgata that guarded the emperor through the darkest hours - those ten vampire brethren who served. The Guard of Night themselves were not closely affiliated with the Anantya; they were focused solely on the Emperor's line, and had little time for the interworkings and politics of the vampire Clans. They gave the respect due their Clan Elders, and observed all proper forms and functions, but the Guard of Night had its own protocol and rules, mostly tied to the shared rituals and brotherhood of warriors.
When the Emperor's line was ended, the brotherhood scattered. It was a harsh, bloody time - the Guard did not let the bloodline die without a fight. Seven of his brethren were dead. Of the remaining three, one was driven mad and had to be put down by the other two. Vasily and Marcallas were the only ones remaining, and in their anger, rage, and grief, broke their tenuous ties to the Anantya, until all memory of them had been forgotten. If they are whispered of, even now, it would be a rarity, and should not be difficult to persuade people that this was a different person entirely. (( From an ooc perspective, I wouldn't rule out having people from his past show up, but that's not the plan right now.))
He had been closely involved with the Emperor through the creation of both the Evanhet and Tacharan clans - for a long time, he remained alone, he and his brother. Then Vasily was killed in the fires that ripped through Chicago, in a freak accident that should have been completely avoidable. Marcallas secretly suspects that Vasily gave up his will to live - he had become increasingly despondent over the last two centuries. As the last of the Guard of Night, he still travels, but now he has chosen to join with Clan Tacharan, though he doesn't do so well with bowing and scraping, and so may not necessarily find a completely warm welcome.
Player name: Marc
Other Characters: None
How I got here: A friend
I have read the rules.
I understand that this is an adult board with adult content (graphic and violent).
I am over the age of 18.