Red7VII — Roleplayer Guild

	Marrock's strut was that of confidence and leisure, each footstep echoing in the great hall that lead to the armory.  Get marked, dressed and armed, eh, he thought to himself recalling the king's instructions.  His makeshift companions made their own way around him, some more hurried than others.  Once he finally found himself in the armory, he looked as the options that were displayed on racks and mannequins.  A simple, dark leather tunic with reinforced joints caught his eye.  He armored up with matching bracers and legwear before turning his attention to the weaponry.  

	He had already seen two swords get selected by the other sins, a traditional choice for sure.  Marrock wanted something a little different, however, and a jolt of excitement crawled up his spine when he beheld the onyx warhammer.  He grabbed it off of the display rack and observed it closer, appreciating the work that went into creating it.  With a handle and mast that was nearly as long as he was tall, the business end had two sides.  The head, or the blunt side, was about the side of a person's skull while the back end was an intimidating looking spike that existed specifically to render armor useless.

	Marrock twirled the weighty weapon between his fingers with ease, getting a feel for its balance.  In a pinch, it would do nicely, he decided, and made his selection official before walking off to get marked.

	As he got closer to the man who would administer the tattoo, he casually looked over his body and appendages, trying to decide upon a location.  In battle, Marrock found that his adrenaline hit its peak when he was in pain.  What better way to welcome pain than to pick a spot that would summon it often.  The vampire found himself staring at his own palm.  Welding the hammer with a fresh tattoo on that spot would certainly inspire rage.  Without a second thought, it was decided.  He held out his hand to the mark maker and displayed a crooked grin.

	"Don't be afraid to go in deep."

Edvard Thévenet

Age: Appears 35 (Just over 1040 years old in actuality)

Ethnicity: Scandinavian

Eyes: Pale Green

Weight: 234 lbs (106kg)

Height: 6'4" (193 cm)

Appearance: Edvard's stare could bore through men like lasers, figuratively speaking.  His skin is prestine and pale, wrapped around a well defined, large muscular body.  His face hasn't been nude since he was an adolescent and has instead been decorated with a beard that usually spans down to the length of his neck.  He often marks his body with tattoos to immortalize events in his endless life that he chooses to remember.  

Relationships: Siress (Nathalie Katia Thévenet), eternal lover

Hobbies: Hunting (both animals and humans), gambling, smoking, fighting, blacksmithing

Personality: Quick to anger, rash, calculating, insatiable, arrogant, possessive, protective, sarcastic, tenacious, charming when he wants to be.

Abilities/Strengths: 
Blood flow vision
Night Vision
Multilingual
Enhanced strength, regeneration, reflexes and durability proportionate to his advanced age which is rivaled by few
Teleportation

Weakness: 
Sunlight will take an eventual toll, though he can survive it longer than most. 
Contact with holy instruments and institutions cause irritation that is gradually increased with exposure, causing higher degrees of damage. 
Psychologically, he loses his reason whenever he feels his queen is in danger, sending him into a state of berserk rage that is nearly impossible for him to control and incredibly difficult to come back from.


History:
	Born into the light under a noble roof, Edvard was raised with certain privileges not afforded to the more downtrodden members of his town.  Educated and professionally trained in combat, Edvard had a natural knack for spilling blood and doing so with wit.  His battle prowess led to a reputation that bordered on myth.  Seemingly unstoppable on the field of war, Edvard's name became infamous among his friends and foes alike.  If ever there was an enemy to crush or a town to raid, Edvard was placed on the front lines. A human battering ram of passion and carnage, he would create a crimson path through his adversaries no matter how vast that were in numbers.

	One day his infamy worked against him, however.  In pursuit of raided spoils, Edvard made a mistake that nearly cost him his life.  In a moment of arrogance, he  squared off with a mountain of a man and decided he would fell the giant with his bare hands while the juggernaut was armed with two axes the size of normal men.  Fate had other plans and Edvard met the razor sharp edges up close and personal.  The others in his company quickly pulled the mortally wounded man out of harms way and attempted to crudely dress his wounds and return home for medical aid.  All seemed lost and the spark within Edvard's heart grew exponentially dimmer.  Once he was back in his home town, one could count the minutes left before his soul would evacuate his body.  But someone refused to accept such a fate for him.  His future queen intervened.  That evening, he was reborn to darkness.

	After becoming betrothed to his savior, Edvard embraced a nomadic lifestyle though the ages, changing his figurative mask with each passing generation. Where his bride went, he followed, even when it came to their eventual hibernation.  After a generation of rest, there was a stirring... a call to arise. Edvard was nearly ready to answer it.

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Magnificent Bastard

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