[WIP, this is my original profile so I like the weapon specs but will reboot history and some of clothing]
I have seen OVA I - IV. <3
Name: Leo S. Creene
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Physical appearance: A slender 6`0 brunette, Leo stands with an air of some self confidence and a hint of complexity in his manor. Straightened hair falls to his shoulders at the sides and just beyond his shoulder blades at the back. Azure eyes are oft' watching, as if awaiting a sudden outlash calmly.
His skin is fare to such a state many would think him fine porcelain crafted to life, unusual as it may be for a male. Since his vampiric transformation he had found his task of removing bodily hair much easier, his skin for the most part refusing to grow hair besides upon his head.
Clothing of choice: His chosen attire often features a lengthy black trenchcoat, collar folded some halfway with decorative silver buttons lining the front, fastened some two thirds way to allow free movement.
Beneath the trenchcoat he tends to wear a long sleeved black shirt, plain as anything and fitted neatly to his figure.
A rapier with gold handle and black steel twist guard is tucked away safely in a matching black sheathe fastened onto a black leather belt with silver buckle, gently intwining thorns of the same silver down the legnth of it. On the opposite side of the belt a silver S&W M29 is holstered with a single, small leather strap buttoned into place over it to prevent movement.
Symbolising his alleigance, the Hellsing Organisation crest is sewn into the top right of his trenchcoat.
Weaponry of choice: S&W M29 (8⅜"), Flat Bladed Rapier (Silver & Steel hybrid blade). [Under Revision]
Race: Vampire Category D
Abilities: Faced mercenary style training in his militant school, with his talent for sharpshooting noted when he moved on to SWAT training. In the SWAT training courses he was taught the basic skills and then intensive specialised training in long range precision firing and enhanced close combat techniques.
His skills with a blade originate from the fencing and general swordsmanship lessons in high school, this being where he began to acquire an improved reaction time and went on to win a regional championship mere weeks before he graduated.
Regeneration (Major damage 15 posts), sublime supernatural strength, agility, stamina, durability, and reflexes, big weakness to silver and blessed weaponry but survivable, killable through conventional means, ability to turn virgins into vampires, non-virgins into somewhat weak ghouls, the need to drink blood occasionally, susceptible to unblessed damage (Fatal), meagre weakness to sunlight (provokes illness).
Organization: Hellsing
Personality: A curious and caring individual, Leo has always consciously tried to be loyal to collegues and friends alike. Yet if he dislikes you, sooner or later he'll warm up to the person because of even the silliest and smallest thing if you're lucky. If you're unlucky he will hold an eternal grudge until death or mortal wound is regrettably dealt.
His attitude to himself is that he can always improve, especially physically. This has lead to minor obsession over cleanliness and therefor after battle looks after his appearance very well (for a typical male).
In battle, Leo can see one clear objective: Kill the thing that's trying to kill/eat/maul/violate you, or hold it off until someone else can. Most would describe this as more of a tactic but he sees it as a mindset. He is also highly prone to bursts of protective anger or other emotion if a friend or ally is hit, often pulling risky or self-endagering moves to save the other.
Rank: Private
Biography:
Born in North West England into a relatively rich family, Leo had birth difficulties. The most immediatly troubling of these was that upon being born his lungs and heart failed and he died. Some five minutes later doctors had given up hope and offered the option of calling a priest to his mother. Being the non-religious sort she declined on snap reaction amongst hormones and anger.
As the doctor was to record time of death, the baby boy miraculously found life again yet severly ill with little hope of recovering soon with chances weakened further by the fact he was born prematurely. Due to being in an ICU for the following six weeks as per standard procedure, Leo rarely knew the touch of his mother and because of this fact a rift began to develop between the two.
As a child, Leo was very much so outgoing and intelligent for his age. Most would regard this as a good thing and his parents did, except they wanted him to keep improving. From a very young age he was hard pressed to perform better in everything until it was perfect and only then would he be allowed to rest.
This lack of physical contact from his parents and abusive jealousy from his siblings brought him forward to be a very 'touchy' person, always feeling some strong emotion and always obsessing over something or another. By the time he reached high school other kids had taken advantage of his unusual emotive state, and it had made him bitter when coupled with the fact he had come to recognise his mother's resentment of him that had spawned from their deep rooted lack of a bond at all.
Having always felt an affinity for the classic English politeness he fit in nicely to a degree and brought a new level of contact for many of the students. Naturally, after a year or so he found a distaste for people too highly snobbish and looked for a fast way out after graduation. At the age of 16 he enrolled in an armed weapons training course, being the only option that involved escaping from the city he'd been trapped in all his life. Found to be a fair sharpshooter with increasingly good reaction times, he became recommended in the local areas of his new city and all the armed forces wanted to get their hands on him. By now, due to a very mixed education he had eveloped a very plain english accent.
Eventually, one day a shadow of the past came to haunt him on the eve of his transfer to active duty. An ex-girlfriend scorned with a difference. In the night when he rejected her beneath the moon in her cowled form she had wasted no time in sinking her fangs into his neck and leaving him fallen against the fountain where they had first met, her idea of a joke.
Post-recovery served in SWAT for a time, dealing in a special response unit that often found itself told to pull out because some other group with the right 'people' was coming in to deal with the situation. They were clearly just there to hold the line until this 'other unit' could move in and eliminate the problem, him and his men decorated with the faux honour of 'Preventative Forces'. He was looking for a way out and into anything else he could find. The only issue was his severe bloodlust, as captain of his squad he could order the rest of them to move on while he'd fall upon a hostage or prisoner and have his fill, concealing his true nature with skill. His new abilities were even a boon to his trade, moving faster than ever and killing with his blade more than his gun, the flash of his sword and his silver thorned scabbard through the darkness earning him the name "Captain Quicksilver". He'd laugh it off, grimmacing at the irony of the statement.
The charade of the iron fisted leader who spent time performing 'intense interrogations' and 'invasive questioning' that often resulted in both information and irregular deaths not caused by the bullet wounds and distinctive torture markings began to raise an issue. It wasn't until an incident involving one of his men blabbermouthing to a superior about red eyes and blood that he found himself set up on a faux op. Though truth be told, not set up in the worst way.
He'd discovered the identity of the rat, the team they eternally supported and that he would get his wish to be moved all in one day. All in the one night he'd taken upon setting upon a usual feed, his tenth before he found himself with the rat pointing a 12-gauge shotgun at his head. He was fast, not immortal. Before long his team had left excluding the rat and the special ops moved in.
As the man came in the badge emblazoned across his chest caught his eye. "HELLSING" it read, a very powerful name full of dark suggestion. A file was presented to him while he was on his knees before his latest meal. Apparantly this rat was in fact a Hellsing scouting agent. Trained to recognise certain patterns in people. This was unprecedented; It completely eliminated his idea he had simply blurted out information to some higher up. He was offered a choice, he could have his file with pictures and all of each of his meals, provided he joined the Hellsing organisation and served them with his final undead breath or he could as the man, place a comparison between how fast he thought he could move and how fast his head could be simultaneously burned, splattered and generally dismantled.
Needless to say even without the subtle encouragement he'd have joined. It gave him an opportunity to at least escape his life of hiding behind illness in the sun and being forced to feed on innocents and filth. In the same rich tone came the words, "Welcome to Hellsing, Mr. Creene."
RP sample: [In stock being developed]
Subject: Leo S. Creene [Reboot/WIP]