Death: Upon attacking children at a hospital, Iscariot's killing judge came to save the day, slaying the vampire and putting an end to his menace.
Have you see the OVA or read the manga series of Hellsing? If so how far have you gotten? If not please direct your attention to youtube, and watch OVA 1-4 at least. Warning: If you have watched the anime we require you watch the OVA, or read the manga. The anime is not canon. This is not our opinion. This is the law set down by the creator of Hellsing, Kouta Hirano. 1-5 read.
Name: Kilquan Suffraxon
Age: 176 (Made thusly for the fashion of the 1800s)
Gender: Male
Physical appearance:
Beneath the clothing of this wonderful English gentleman was somewhat a horrific appearance should he be left with no substinance for a longer period of time during the day. With the depravity of blood, his dark skin went pale, showing an almost dead quality. He became sloppier in his movements, more feral and wicked. His hair became fried and often began to grey and his figure seemed to cave into itself like a starving animal. His eyes were always a constant black, always soothing and strong, obviously wanting of your attention. His hair was oft pulled back into a tail behind him that hung only about halfway down his back. His face, should one be able to remove the mask in time of withdrawal would be seen to be sunken and wrinkled. His nails often were short and hidden by gloves, but when in times of need, they were presented in points like claws. It was twisted in a sickly fashion, his lips curled back to reveal his ivory fangs sticking out, ready for their next meal. Most of this was covered up however, to remove himself from the public’s disgust.
Upon viewing this man in full health, he was quite a sight be behold. He was a portrait of joy to view and was quite the spreader of joy. He was not built, but lean and always keeping his full height, five foot eleven, and standing erect. His skin was a dark tan, as if kissed by the sun, not regularly corpulent like his brothers and sisters of the night. His nails were kempt and well enough. He had an air about him, something different that made him almost mysterious, but no one dared comment for being made a fool of by this man in robes. His eyes maintained that odd air about them, inviting and almost hypnotizing to those whom he made eye contact with. His hair was smooth, held back by a thin piece of black cloth and it had a thick, tar-like hue to it.
Clothing of choice:
In times of degredation and health, this character wears clothing so old that it would be considered odd by anyone whom didn’t know him. He kept to the traditional fashion of the Gothic age, often donning a black coat with a tail, an overcoat, a top hat, his trade-marked umbrella kept in hand like a cane, and possibly a monocle at times of fancy. He was on odd one, Mr. Suffraxon, as during these times when he looked horrendous, he kept with him a mask that seemed to almost act as his face, revealing only the pits of his eyes to the public as the smiling, drama mask presented happiness to the general passer-by.
Weaponry of choice:
This man is never seen without his umbrella, which is a wonderful invention indeed. Within the contraption, this man has managed to hide a rapier within the hollowed out shaft. This weapon is attached to the curved wooden coated handle that is nothing but pure metal underneath. This umbrella also serves as a means of transportation in times of dilemma as seeing that once fully intact, it can be extended and it holds a button that once pushed extends the studs, draws back the cloth slightly and turns into a virtually exclusive helicopter for the gentleman. He also, within his collection has, because of his… obsessions, a collection of many long, scrawny needles hidden about his person made of a light, but very durable metal that he has become quite good at throwing.
Race: Vampire, category C
Abilities:
First and foremost, he is obviously talented with manipulation, focusing on his hypnotic glare and the power of suggestion. He has an innate ability to sway others who are lesser than he by simply making eye contact(1 post). Those whom are more powerful may require more effort on his part (2-3 posts). Regeneration may take a medium amount of time for major damage (ie: 13 posts Edited to make it more fair), medium supernatural strength, agility, stamina, durability, and reflexes, medium weakness to silver and blessed weaponry, teleportation, able to absorb memories, still killable through massive damage (conventional or otherwise), to turn virgins into vampires, non-virgins into durable but fairly weak ghouls, the need to drink blood once in a week, mild weakness to sunlight (they get irritated by sunlight). He also has the ability to make masks that he wears very much his skin, including masks made from the flesh of the dead. ((I.E. he kills someone, cuts off face flesh, makes a mask from it, and it becomes his flesh until her removes it. Does not apply to other features, voice, or eyes, as he keeps these his natural.)) He also retained a few skills from his time in the circus that are menial, but possibly useful (Firebreathing with alcohol, juggling, parlor tricks).
Organization: Lord Suffraxon has yet to be asked by anyone to join an organization.
Personality:
Kilquan is best described as he who is random incarnate. There is no evidence of what he could do next. It could range from a simple stroll in the park or simply tea time to luring some poor street walker into a back alley and doing unmentionable things with the skeleton of a large fish. He is sick humored, and thrives off of the pain and misery of others. He is also a very genuine pyromaniac. (see history)
Rank: Gentleman
Biography:
Kilquan was first found on the steps of an orphanage with a note attatched to it that read something in a cryptic and odd language. Once found, the caretaker of this house of orphans took the boy in, despite his dark, gypsy appearance, courtesy of his parents. The headmaster raised him differently than all of the other children, punishing him more severely to make up for his dark complexion. He was given –many- lessons in proper etiquite and was tested painfully on it. He was taught heavily the word of God and often forced to write scripture while the other boys and girls played.
Around the age of eleven, this boy fled the orphanage with success via a laundry truck and ending up at a sweatshop. The owner took a slight interest in the boy and instead of returning him, put him to work as a tailor, teaching him to sew and within a work forcing him to labor. He labored long, this one, giving all of his work to the master until one day he was let loose from his shackles after so many long, grueling years.
Now at the ripe age of twenty-four, this man went under apprenticeship of his previous master in business and was involved in the less… legal aspects of the trade. After a year or so, he wound up in the wrong alley at the wrong time and was attacked by some vicious beast that did not kill him, but left him for dead in the alley behind a trashcan. The next morning, he felt himself experiencing a burning sensation and grabbed for the nearest object, an umbrella and he held it over his head to shield him from the source of the burning, the light. The holey thing did little to shield him, but after a while, he found it served at a nice crutch to keep him from stumbling like a drunken monkey in a zoo.
So he went, back to the shop where he soon found his master, the one who took him in and slaved him, but also the one who gave him work and raised him. But, this was not what he found, but an ample supply of substinance that was quickly devoured, along with the children and overseers below. He devoured them all, and afterwards slept amongst the bones and rotting flesh.
That night, he awoke and traveled upstairs a bloody mess and used the clothing about to suit himself before taking off, out of the door never to return again. Many stories were told of a nightdweller, a man who walked the streets at night and never during the day. Some said he was the boogieman, while others the devil, and others whom did encounter him spread word that he was a right and proper gentleman.
After a few years of wondering the streets, Master Suffraxon came upon an opportunity of a lifetime. Through means of heavy manipulation, he was able to obtain a company that made Umbrellas at the edge of a smaller town for free. Soon, he even was able to get the labor for free by turning the workers into mind-full ghouls who were set to one task at a time.
This made his industry grow heavily, and he became partially wealthy, subsisting off of manipulation and ghoul-ification for his empire of umbrellas. But, then, war struck and his company went under. Nobody wanted an umbrella when the Great War was going, only weapons to be made. The man refused to change his production line, and his factory of ghouls and his warehouses lay in wait for something to begin again.
By this point, the man began to research things that could be hidden in umbrellas, things that could alter the function of such a useful implement. And he found them, he did find them very slowly, and after spending half of his ‘fortune’, he had created one umbrella that was merely a sheath for a rapier.
With that, he took his new umbrella and what was left of his monies and decided that the company had stunk up the country side with its filth long enough, and he burned it. During this age, insurance was not in existence, so what was gained for free, ensured nothing in the end.
Again, he roamed the streets, looking about for substinence and people with whom he could have a nice cup of tea. He was soon introduced to a traveling carnival near the end of the great war and decided that it could be good entertainment for him, and so he decided to invest in it time and what coins he would a lot. During his stay here, he was able to learn many skills of the carnival including: swordplay, knife throwing and needle work, and balancing.
Needless to say, all good things come to an end when someone gets angry. In this case, he was, infact upset one day and burned the tent to the ground after devouring the circus freaks.
This is about when the second war hit and he was forced to make his way from town to town as bombs exploded about the cities of England. The man waited until the war was over and stowed away on a barge that was returning to the US after delivering aide.
Now within this wonderful country, he made his way about, making small investments here and there and hoping they didn’t falter. This, however was not the case and he lost the rest of his money. This is when he began to get down and dirty with his efforts and began to spread his corruption across the land, manipulating everyone he could until his dream was complete… the perfect umbrella.
Once this was complete, he began to travel abroad and gave no hint of his presence save for the weekly murder of some homeless individual. He has also taken a liking to killing Clergymen considering his horrid childhood. He proclaims them "Church Dogs", a phase coined by him.
RP sample:
It was a windless day, one in which there was little to do in jolly old London. There was an odd house, and in front of which a woman stood with a freshly folded umbrella held in front of her. She wore white, and had a largely brimmed hat, embroidered with a pink satin that matched nicely with her argent umbrella that seemed to act as a third leg.
Suddenly, in the air there was a whirling about and something was descending from above. It was black, and the whirling was getting louder as it approached her. She looked up and frowned, furrowing her brow and pursing her lips. Someone was taking her style, and she didn’t like it.
The man soon landed behind the woman in argent, and his face was covered in a masquerade mask with a large smile etched onto what seemed to be smooth, elastic flesh. The creature looked at her and the smile got only larger before it soon disappeared, taking the mechanical contraption on which it rode in on with it. There would be what seemed to be a presence behind the woman, as a light breathing made itself evident.
The woman looked around for a moment and shrugged before turning back around and heading for the door, only to bump into the man with an “Oof,” and looking up. “Terribly sorry governor,” she said, with a sweet voice that dripped sugar and honey from it with every proper syllable.
The creature looks down at her and the smile turns sour, twisting into a horrid frown before he motions to pick the woman up by the throat. “I think I will take this one Dear madam, you have done enough.”
“N-no!” she managed to squeal out in horror, before beginning to kick about and squirm in his grip.
He would begin to squeeze horridly, attempting to crush her windpipe as he looks about to ensure no witnesses. “Make it easy and die quickly, I have work to do.”
She was soon out of it, only struggling a bit before her sweet breath was extinguished with the crushing force.
He then moves towards the bushes and places her between two of the hedges before approaching the door and delivering a swift knock to it.
A man answered the door, properly dressed in military attire before looking up to the gruesome figure before him. “M-Ms. Poppins?” he asks looking over the figure with intrigue.
The phantom forces his way into the home, easily forcing the door open and looking the man in the eye and beginning to use his hypnotic gaze to brainwash the man. “Madam Poppins was unable to make it, I am your nanny for now.”
The military man only nods and says, “Quite right, nice too meet you Master…?” as he stared blankly into those horrid pools of the upright creature.
Suddenly, the door was slammed and in the house little was heard. Time passed from minutes to hours, and from hours, the night came and left.
The next day, a new man emerged, no sight of the phantasmal mask wearer, only a dark skinned gentleman with an umbrella that went down the street singing lightly to himself, “And a glass full of humors makes the medicine go down, the medicine go down, medicine go down.”
Subject: Kilquan Suffraxon (death by Anderpwn) 
