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. Yes, I have watched all OVA currently out and read some of the manga and some of Dawn.
Name: Belladonna Kaylock
((Associate her with Twilight and she'll skin you and rub your genitalia in salt))Age: 27
Gender: Female
Physical appearance: Standing at 172 cm, Belladonna cannot be seen as an extremely tall nor short woman. Her mother having been a rather successful model, the height is most probably given to her from her female part of the genetics, as well as the pleasantly silky skin - usually with a light, rather healthy tan as a result of being outside a lot - she uses to drape over those elongated bones, and whatever else she might be made of. A couple of small scars from childhood games gone rough and some minor accidents, such as accidentally steppnig on a nail etc are present. She also had some scarring from having a tattoo removed from the nape of her neck.
Other than that, she has also inherited her mother's dark brown, slightly curly hair and matching brown eyes. Due to not being the most self preservative person in the world, being rather ignorant of taking care of her body like she should, she often neglects using schampoo or the likes whilst showering under stress, choosing to just stand underneath the hot water jets. Therefore her hair, usually reaching an inch or so underneath her scapula, is often seen pulled up into a ponytail during stressful times to make it's neglect less noticeable.
With a thin nose, high cheekbones and pleasantly shaped eyes with rather long eyelashes, she is often told that she has a rather attractive, 'beautiful' by those whom dares to use the word, face. But really, she owes it all to her friends for keeping her from wasting that face in an explosion or the likes. Trivial things as physical appearance doesn't have much meaning to her, though she knows just how important it is for her work.
Clothing of choice: Due to her occupation as an information dealer and infiltrator, she has a rather ranged closet, hand picked to fit all situations she might be put in. Ranging from fine dining to austonaut to hobo, she has and can be seen in pretty much anything depending on the information she has been sent to retrieve. And as she doesn't really have any particular dislikes such as skirts, lace or heels, she doesn't particularly care.
On her free time however, she usually tend to want to go for comfortable rather than fancy. She does have a policy that she should always be at least somehow presentable though, something that she was highly affected by her mother on. But for comfort, hoodies, shirts, jeans and sneakers or the likes can be used. Simple clothing without any real detail, and usually a mixture of darker colors with a hint of white on a shirt or the likes. Heels are almost never used, at least not stilletoes. And boots are loved during winter, as she finds summer too hot to use them.
Weaponry of choice: Due to her proffession, her identity needs to be concealed suring certain events. And thus, never having been a gun person, she has a rather impressive collection of knives and the likes. What she chooses to take with her depends on the situation, though butterfly and throwing knives are often present, most of her stuff having been custom made to fit her purposes.
As she isn't the one that usually has to do the dirty work, her duty being to infiltrate and retrieve only, she is often safe with only knives and a person to watch her back. But when forced to, she will take a gun with her for self defense. Usually, the choice for that will be a Smith & Wessons Lady Smith Model 3914, 9mm. It can be found in a bag, under loose clothing or maybe even in a thigh holster during fine dining situations.
As she is walking around on her free time, she always has an OTF Scarab with her, as it's concealable and quick to open - being a switchblade and all.
Race: Human
Abilities: With a body fitting an acrobat more than a maraton runner or a weight lifter, she is very flexible and fast, though her stamina and strenght isn't the best - strenght being the factor she lacks the most of them all. She is skilled in scaling walls and climbing trees or the likes, is rather good at hiding and getting out of restraints. And though her pain threshold is above average, it's nothing compared to a lot of people.
She has taken many lessons on pschycology and acting, and can thus easily lure information out of the average person. Skilled in hand to hand and kife combat, she can easily defend herself to the normal officer or random street fights. However, she is mainly self taught, and is not nearly a 'master' in fighting. An upside with the being self taught and having fought random people a lot, is that she can read the movements of the average street fighter. Anything above that however, is not her cup of tea. She does however have a problem with guns, as she hates the sound and scent of them and cannot handle recoil very well.
Organization: Unaffiliated
Personality: Having been highly affected by her Italian father as a child, Belladonna had a number of the 'typically Italian' personality traits during a part of her life, many -though not all- of them having faded with time. She used to treat sports like war until she lost interest in it, and was fiercly religious until later during her life when her belief flatered. She always tried to make friends as a child, but soon enough realized how vunerable friends made her and chose to keep to herself. She did and still loves different kinds of food and drinks, considering it a part of her culture. The 'fact' that her mother was the best cook in the world however, has long been discarded.
Nowadays, she has become a rather quiet, neutral person. Preffering to stay in the safety of the shadows, she doesn't typically speak or interact with strangers unless asked or invited to (of course, this doesn't apply when she's "working" or the likes). Lacking a rather big chunck of sympathy and pity, she sometimes comes out as rude and/or cold to others when she's speaking.
She loves fast vehicles - especially cars -, yet another trait she has gotten from her father. She is a creature of habit, always trying to follow the same routine when waking up everyday. The routine goes something like this: Wake up - Shower - Get a bathrobe and drink coffee somewhere with a view whilst waiting for your hair to dry - Get dressed for today / Get into today's disguise. Rather simple and uneventful, yes. But it gives a small sense of some kind of pace in her usually rather unpredictable life. Something that is of great importance to her, as she can have a moment where she knows just what is going to happen and just what she's going to do.
She works well under pressure, though she forgets things such as using schampoo and eating properly. She doesn't have any particular 'favorite' colors, though she does preffer the darker ones before the brighter. Thunder is annoyingly loud, though lightning is beautiful. Rain is nice, as is snow for the first couple of days. After that, eccesive rain or snow is just annoying, the rain because of the humidity it brings and the snow because how annoying it is to get through it. But then again, the rain does make the air smell nice, and snow makes the air crisp and nice to breathe. Big flowers, such as lilies and sunflowers, are likes. Roses however, though they can be seen as romantic, are not to be wanted.
But as all humans, she also has fears. Though it is not particularly physical, such as claustophobia or a fear of the dark. She isn't particularly fazed by blood and gore, nor is she particularly scared of any normal bugs or reptiles (if a snake bites her however, she
will scream). Her fear is somewhat more .. social, in a way. As she grew up, she learned to doubt humans. And thus, she constantly looks for a an alternate reason for all actions. And even if she is in a relationship, she will always doubt. Fearing to leave herself as bare and unprotected as love sometimes requires one to be, she has long chosen to withdraw from the feeling known as 'love'. She is however also surprisingly weak to temptation. And thus, she is prone to both exessive doubt, and unfaithfullness. She has a need to be in control most of the time, and panics a bit when her mask cracks. She has always told herself that the only reason for it is the " Don't let them see you sweat " motto. But really, she's just as insecure in the matter as she was before High School.
Rank: None
Biography: Belladonna was an unexpected, though not unloved child. Her parents had been brought together by their work, her mother being the rather wanted model with the fleeting yet intense precence, and her father the aspiring photographer with much potential in his handling of the lense. It had been a surprise to them both that faithful night in Paris when Bella's mother, Gabriella Valko - umarried and not particularly commited at the time- was her maiden name, discovered that she was pregnant. She and Alexander Kaylock, the slightly younger photographer she had been going out with some time now, were still thorughoutly in love at the time. And thus, despite their better judgement, they decided to keep the child and move in together under the promise of marriage, beautiful children and a bright future.
At the time Belladonna was born, her parent's situation had deteriorated a considerable bit. Without his star model, her father was quickly loosing his reputation as 'legendary', and as their money diminished, so did their love for each other. They started fighting, buth verbally and mentally, but decided to stay together for the sake of their child. To give the poor soul somewhat of a normal childhood with both parental figures, at least. Which might not have been the best desicion in their lives, as that made their child have to live the coming years of her life in constant turmoil. Quickly learning from her parent's unpredictable moods, she learned to see the early signs of rage in a human's face and body language. How to fake a smile and play along as her mother would try to be that happy family on the family portait, and - as the situation grew worse and worse - how to let go of everything and just run or hide.
As she grew older, around the time she started 1st - 3rd grade, her parents had drifed apart a rather big bit. Her mother, whom had lost her looks and charms from the constant stress and arguing, started deteriorating mentally. Being as a mirror, cracked again and again as she was more and more separated from what should've been such a bright future, reduced to nothing but a simple housewife to a failing photographer. And as a mirror, she was repairable. But you could still see that motherfucking crack. And the more she fell apart, and the more she was repaired again with false promises and empty love, the more her reflection of the world twisted. And she was left with a crooked view of false beauty, nothing being what it seemed to be to her.
She started blaming her child, blaming her for the 'terrible fate that had been brung upon her'. Asking her why she had to be born, why she can't just dissapear out of her view. She was completely convinced that without the child, she would've still been enjoying a successful model career, she'd be with a better man and she'd be living in the world of luxury she had been brought up in. But she'd never beat her, as she refused to physically hurt her own flesh and blood.
It was during that time that Belladonna realized that no matter how good grades, and how much praise her teachers would give her, her mother would never see her as 'a good daughter'. And thus, she decided to take a different approach to the matter. She stayed away from home as much as possible, only returning home when she had to. Not that her mother cared much, as she was just happy to have Bella out of her sight. Her father was too busy. She became a very drawn in girl with a fear of others. And when she started High School, she had became the weird loner with straight A's.
It was however also during High School that she changed once again. With her naturally gifted looks, she was noticed rather quickly by the school boys. Smart, skinnier than most and seeming to be playing hard to get. She was silently accepted by the girl population of the School, which taught her the unspoked rules of society, rehabilitating her into accepting other people. And by her senior year, her outside seemed to have made a complete 180 degree turn. She was now popular, though her grades had dropped slightly to a mixture of C's, B's and A's, she was known to have been able to get whatever man she desired, aka testerone filled jocks and sensetive school musicians, and was skilled in .. several areas of socializing. She had people trying to imitate her for just a glimpse of her success, and she could now be called a women. But really, meantally High School had only served to tranform her from a scared girl to a scared woman. She learned more about the ugly side of humanity, our strenght and how to use it against us.
She started college with a bright future in mind. She moved out and bought herself an .. acceptable, though rather cramped apartment. She got a part time job as a waitress in a rather nice café to have some income during her studying, and was willingly seduced by the boss of that work. It was during that time that she experienced 'love' the first time of her life, even if she knew that the man was already married and had children. It was then during the 2nd year of College that she experienced real heartbreak for the first time. The man she loved left her with a monotone " Did you really think that I, a married man, would stay with you, a student?". Confused by her emotions, her grades dropped as she neglected school and she ended up dropping out.
Getting new, quite illegal, friends as she somehow ended up joining a gang, spending a couple of years infiltrating other gangs as a 'spy' of sorts to help her own in the frequent miniature wars. She ended up becoming the misstress of a Catrell owner, a made man, whom would let her live the good life as long as she'd keep giving him sellable information. And when the man was killed, she wasn't really affected. But instead of taking the opportunity to finally go back to her 'good ways', she decided to keep threading the path she had chosen. Instead of getting herself a normal job, a normal lover and a normal home, she made herself quite the reputation in the underground as she infiltrated different organizations with the help of contacts and friends, selling the information she'd assemble to whomever payed the right price.
It was due to that choise of 'career' that she met her current partner in crime - and life, for that matter -, Rone. She had been commisioned for information about The Knights of the Damned, and happened to come across Rone during his crusade before she knew of his involvement. Somehow, they ended up becoming rather close friends, and he ended up giving her the last bits of information she needed. They stayed close after that, and she was there to help him stay undercover etc during his downfall. The two are now living together in a mansion on a little island on the coast of Italy, owned by Rone.
RP sample: - POST 1 -
Waking up had always been one of the less eventful things in Bells' life. And thus, waking up that day had been .. pretty much like any other. Not that she was complaining though, mind you! It was nice to have at least one moment in your day, one place where you knew that you could relax. And in her case, this 'safe haven' of sorts, happened to be a privately owned fortress-like villa on the coast of Italy. Owned by none other than the 'long lost Arch Angel', Rone Dielschneider. Though on the papers, and to most of the outer world, his name had changed into Jack McCoy. Rone no longer existed, as the Fallen Emperor of the Knights had molded into a multi-billionare, a successful buisness man known throughout several continents. And yet, he had somehow escaped detection.
Smirking slightly at the thought, knowing fully well just how big of a part she had played in giving Rone this new identity - and keeping it at that as well -, she stopped for a moment to look out the window of her room. It was a nice view, privately owned sea and sande as far as the eye would reach. And despite the burning summer sun, the place still somehow managed to stay cool. Even when she had broken her AC in a fit of paranioa.
Sighing as she let the view go, she tossed the thin silk blanket she had been using to the side and headed for the shower, in all her nude glory. Not that she had anything to worry about, as she knew that Rone would always knock before entering - unless it was an emergancy, in which case clothing was a quick matter -, and didn't really care about what was she was looked upon by the others. Anyways, she made her way to the private bathroom connected to her bedroom. There, she frowned as she stared at her mirror image. Mascara and eyeshadow running down her cheeks, eyes slightly red from too much exposure of self-produced salty water. Giving out yet another sigh as she started to clean it off, stepping into the shower and scrubbing her face furiously until it stung. From there, she'd stand under the water jets for a while and think. About her buisiness, about her friends. About the place she was living in, about who she hoped was more than just a valuable ally. But none the less, these were unimportant thoughts. For now, all she needed to concern herself about was the future. What was going to happen to her, and no one else.
- POST 2 -
"Turn right. Step on the gas pedal. Close your eyes. Feel the wind, and don't open them again until you know the next steep cliff will greet you with it's spectacular view. After that, you might as well scream as you face your end. Unless you're still willing to live of course, which is when you turn a sharp left and pant as the adrenaline courses through your veins. Makes you feel alive, doesn't it? Filthy bitch, you're just as corrupted as I am .. "Repeating the words of her Aunt's letters, sent to her at the early age of 6. Waiting to be opened. Waiting to make havoc in her mind, and enjoying ever last bit of it. Her aunt had in fact died several years ago. Killed by her beloved, filthy whore sister's corrupted bitch daughter. Thinking about it provided that bitch daughter, Belladonna Kaylock, a momentary glimpse of entertainment. But it would soon fade, and leave her with the same boredom as always. There was nother big happening in the world for once, and it was draining her of her passion. She had nothing to do, and nothing to entertain herself with. Sex only lasted for so long, and an overflow of it was just boring. Being with Rone was one of the few times when her anxiety would dim down a bit, but she couldn't be around him 24/7. And being the half-assed adrenaline junkie she was, she had actually gotten into some new sports car she'd found in the garage and driven around on the Italian country roads.
Her black schal flying behind her, lips painted red and eyes encased in a smokey black, some would describe her appearance as the one of a Hollywood actress from back in the days, when women would smoke cigars and wear suits in the movies and have red lips, and suspicious music in the background. The thought entertained her, as she imagined herself seducing some unkown buisnessman in an old black and white movie. Maybe in another life, in another dimension. She could've pursued a career as an actress back when she had the choice, her looks and natural skills might've given her a breakthrough. But then again, what was done was done. Nothing was changeable, as it had been drilled into her skull be her father.
Slowing only as she neared a village, she turned on the CD player and let Beethoven fill the car as she pressed a button and made the roof roll down. The village children soon flocked around her, shouting and laughing as they compeeted about grabbing and kissing the eccentric woman's hand, which happened to be conveniently hanging out of the side of the slowly creeping car. Others touched it's blank surface and were amazed by the quiet purring of the engine, which just moments ago had been roaring down the mountain. As she made her way to the town, she realized that this really wasn't too bad.
- POST 3 (Oh my god why can't I write Combat samples?!) -
Walking the towns had always been somewhat relaxing for Bells. Dressed in casual clothing, melting in with the happily chatting crowd as they basked in the warm summer sun, shopping and meeting up with friends .. It was a rather pleasant feeling. To be able to pretend to be somewhat like them. To be able to pretend that she wouldn't be able to kill a number of them at any moment, not that she was going to anyway mind you, and that you were just .. anyone. No one, and someone at the same time. With light makeup and loose hair, dressed in hoodie and jeans, she was nothing much to look at. And that was just what she wanted to be percieved as. Nothing special, just some woman walking by.
Watching the happy young teenage tourist couples that were swarming the village, just as they had always done this time of year, was indeed a rather entertaining activity. Walking with the mass of people, she enjoyed observing the joyous expressions on their faces. The way that they'd lean ever loser, happy as they were together. It was something she had strongly longed for once in her life. Later however, she had learned to ignore it. To simply close the need of closeness and an understanding mind. Had she thought, at least.
Pulled out of her thoughts by the unmistakable feel of a foreign hand in her pocket, she temporarily froze as she felt the fingers grab hold of what should be a wallet. But instead of doing what a normal pickpocket would do, as in pulling his fingers out of there as soon as possible and retreating to feast on his bounty, the fucker dared to give the ass the backpocket happened to be sticking to a light sqeeze. And when he tried to pull back, it was already far too late.
Grabbing the forearm of the pickpocket, which when she turned around to glare at him turned out to be a rather young, average looking male, Bells squeezed at what she knew was a naturally weak spot until he whimpered and loosened his hand. Spinning around quickly to tap a nerve in the man's neck, she had him dizzied and readily following the unkown woman he'd tried to pick pocket into a dark alley. There, a sneaker clad foot connected with his ribs, knocking the wind out of him as his hands flew out to try grabbing whatever support there was, the crazy bitch having let go of his forearm. The impact forcing him into a wall behind him, he tried to make a nosie - any noise, really - but was stopped by the feel of his own hand being pushed into his mouth. The glimmer of a smile, the scent of quickly rotting garbage and the yowls of cats, the back alleys were not very nice places for people like him.
Biting down onto his hand hard enough to draw blood as he felt his thigh being pierced, not by a knife but some unkown blunt object. A stick, or some other random shit the bitch had picked up, maybe? He knew better than to try fighting back at situations like these. His superiours had taught him well. If he got caught and beaten, it was the end. He was a skinny, quick but weak man. So he couldn't do much as the mad fucker hissed in dissapointment, and chose to stand still and wait as he heard the clicking of a knife. Maybe, just maybe she'd get bored and let him go. Please god, p-
His thoughts were interrupted as he felt the knife cut through his jugular. Falling to his knees as his prayers stopped, he was only able to see the dissapointed frown on his killer's face before his eyes glazed over and god recieved his poor shitty soul.
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OOC: Oh my god the bio is shit. The 'Combat sample' is shit. I need to learn how to write TT_TT
Subject: Belladonna Kaylock [ Edited ] 
