I'll make the account if this gets approved.
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.Name: Walter C. Dornez.
Age: 70.
Gender: Male.
Physical appearance: 
Walter was originally a tall, slender, graceful old man with greying skin and black hair that receded from a furrowed brow. His legs were strikingly long, longer than his torso and head combined. He had small blue eyes and thin lips that were easy to smile and easier to grin, and a jaw so sharp it could have sliced butter. His nose was crooked.
After his surgery at the hands of Herr Doktor, however, Walter's body became very young very quickly - in fact, it reverted to the fourteen-year-old form he possessed during his operation in Warsaw, and his first meeting with the Major. Walter now has a much healthier build and complexion, with thick black hair that falls down over his brow and occasionally conceals his blood-red eyes. His nose is no longer crooked, and though his legs are still long, they no longer stand out as much. Walter is no longer bone-thin, though he is still slender for a 'teenager', and unlike his old form he is about average height for someone of his 'age' - around 5 foot 3 inches.
Clothing of choice: Since his surgery, Walter has worn a butler uniform modified for combat, with chains around his wrists and hanging from his belt, and dark fingerless gloves. The outfit includes a black waistcoat with gold buttons over a white long-sleeved shirt, the cuffs folded quite thickly. There is a gold pin at his lapel, attached to a smart black tie.
Weaponry of choice: 
High-velocity monomolecular wires deployed from the fingertips of his gloves. This means ten wires, one for each fingertip, each capable of deploying to a length of a hundred yards; able to collectively defend an area of twenty metres cubed.
Walter's wires can easily slice through flesh and bone, rending a slow or unperceptive enemy into a hundred pieces. They are controlled by slight but precise finger-movements, which can make Walter look like he is orchestrating a ballad when he is in fact slaughtering his enemies.
The wires' optimal range is about ten metres, enemies finding it easier to dodge the further they are beyond that threshold.
Besides attacking, the wires can also be used to pick up objects without slicing them, or to create a protective 'bubble' through which enemies are unable to pass without being filleted. They can also form small, grate-shaped 'shields' in the air to block projectile weapons.
Walter has trained with these weapons for almost all of his life, and is possibly the only man alive who knows how to use them.
Race: Superior FREAK.
Abilities: Medium supernatural strength, agility, stamina, durability, and reflexes. Medium weakness to silver and blessed weaponry. The ability to turn virgins and non-virgins alike into Ghouls with a bite.
Walter's current state is the result of a rushed, botched surgery, meaning that he is somewhere in the middle between human and FREAK. He is capable of all the superhuman feats that vampires can perform, but they drain his body much more. Prolonged battle can result in extreme pain and exhaustion for Walter, to the point where his regenerative abilities slow and even the slightest cuts take a long time to heal.
Walter is perhaps the only person alive capable of using his wires. He is also a skilled gunsmith, creating both of Alucard's guns and Seras Victoria's Harkonnen rifle.
Walter has the skills of a butler trained in etiquette almost since birth, leaving him capable of folding towels, arranging teaspoons correctly, and a wide variety of other tasks that leave a house looking pristine but inefficient. He is an excellent cook, and has the intense balance required of anyone who has to carry glasses of wine in a tray with just the tips of his fingers.
Organization: Millenium.
Personality: Many of Walter's personality traits linger from before his surgery. He is charming, has a capacity for great politeness, and takes supreme joy in the slaughter of his enemies - and the defense of his superiors. He still cares greatly about Integra Hellsing and Seras Victoria, and pits himself against Hellsing only so he may battle Alucard, a goal placed into his mind by Herr Doktor. His strongest desire is to put a steak through Dracula's heart, a desire that easily surpasses his loyalty to Millenium or Hellsing.
Unlike his former self, Young Walter seems to have a complete disregard for the dead, willing to destroy corpses with a twitch of his finger if they are in his way. He is also not adverse to theft and torture, if they aid him towards his goal.
Walter can become angry much more easily than his old self, but he has the same dry, morbid sense of humour.
Walter enjoys smoking. It is rare for him to be seen without a cigarette in his mouth, even during battle.
Rank: SS-Sturmmann (Storm Trooper).
Biography: Walter was born into a high-class household with ties to the Hellsing family. He was trained in manners and etiquette almost from birth, learning which spoons to use for certain desserts, how to fold tablecloths, and how to fight - as had been the tradition for generations of Dornez butlers. He was introduced to the young Arthur Hellsing when he was five, by which point he had the IQ of a teenager and the skills of an butler much older than he was. They became good friends, and it was arranged between their parents that Walter would join the Hellsing family as a butler-in-training, to take over when the previous butler died.
By the age of 14 Walter had become a master of the monomolecular wire, using them to great effect on the training grounds of Hellsing Mansion. One of his instructors lost a finger as a result of said training, an event which Walter
claimed was an accident. In any case, Walter was finally told about the Hellsing Organization and its aim; and more significantly, about its trump 'card. World War II was raging on, and it had come to Hellsing's attention that a company of Nazis under a man known as 'The Major' was experimenting on vampires; and if he was not stopped, Ghouls would begin taking the place of German troops, multiplying and multiplying until the Allies were crushed. Walter was assigned, alongside Alucard, to destroy the research facility. During the mission, Walter was separated from Alucard and found himself in battle with the Captain, Hans. After a drawn-out fight, Walter was exhausted and defeated, waiting for his enemy to execute him. But Hans didn't. The Major spoke to Walter about Millenium and the boons of becoming a vampire, a speech which Walter had never been able to get out of his mind since. Alucard managed to destroy the facility soon afterwards, but the Major and his allies escaped. Walter was berated for allowing this to happen.
Ever since, Walter has been the good, skilled butler the Hellsing family expected him to be, folding clothes and dusting attics and fetching the paper like a good dog. However, he was secretly feeding information to Millenium: the whereabouts of the Hellsing Mansion, how many guards it contained, the new technologies it was developing to combat vampires... With his help, Millenium figured out how to strike at Hellsing's weaknesses - all in exchange for the promise that one day, they would make Walter immortal too. Eventually that day came around, in the year 1999, when the Hellsing Organization under Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing was combating a zeppelin attack by Millenium. Walter found himself battling the Captain again, supposedly in defense of Integra. He told her to run, giving him the opportunity to finally join the Nazis and for Herr Doktor to perform the FREAK surgery on him - an operation that was rushed and botched. Millenium's retreat after Hellsing responded to the attack enraged Young Walter, and for months he could be found sulking in the rafters of the zeppelin. When he finally came down, he had a renewed purpose: to kill Alucard, no matter how long it took. He had all of eternity to do it, after all...
RP sample: Post 1:When he entered the hotel, the receptionist greeted him with nervous enthusiasm. The leaflet had proclaimed: '5-Star Service, 5-Star Rooms, 6-Star Satisfaction. Only £700 per night.' Walter supposed the woman at reception hadn't expected a teenager to stride in waving that amount in cash. She'd probably alerted the police by now, but they were unlikely to respond: there had been no robberies in the area recently, and all the cash had come from selling Jew gold; melted down and reforged into rings so as not to arouse suspicion.
How may I help you, sir? asked the receptionist at last, spluttering the words.
Walter smiled charmingly.
A room, please, he said, using his polite tone of voice.
My parents are on a business trip out in the Pacific, and should return by tomorrow afternoon. I assume this will allow me to stay until then?The woman looked toward the hotel doors, and the rain-damp street beyond. She made a quick decision, and took Walter's money with a quick, snapping movement.
This hotel's desperate, he surmised.
They need money, and she isn't going to question me further. That was good. The last thing he needed was prying eyes.
There's another thing I wanted to ask he added.
There should be a man staying here named John Doe. He's my uncle. Could you tell me which room he's staying in? Walter's eyes glinted. It was good he had abstained from blood for the past day or so, otherwise she would have seen a pair of red irises.
The receptionist glanced quickly through her guest register, then nodded, clucking her tongue thoughtfully.
Yeees, she said slowly.
He's living on the top floor. Room 665. I wouldn't go up there, if I were you.Why ever would that be?The top floor is still under construction.Post 2:Walter headed to his room to change, throwing the hoodie and jeans into an untidy heap in the corner. It felt good to have an outfit he didn't need to fold and wash each and every time he removed it. These sorts of clothes were
expected to be at least a
little dirty, and though one of Walter's hobbies was surpassing expectations, he figured he could let this one slide.
I'm even beginning to think in slang, he thought with a grin, beginning to fix his butler outfit over his scarless body. The only blemish that remained was a red welt on his upper back, just between his shoulderblades, where Herr Doktor had performed the surgery. That was where the aches started when he battled, making a deep core at the base of his neck before spreading out along his shoulders and down his spine. In time, the welt would probably disappear; but somehow he doubted the aching ever would.
Walter exited his room and walked up the spiral stairs until he reached the top floor, a dark cold breeze rushing in through the incomplete framework of the walls. Unaffected by cold, he strode forwards until he saw the room, one of four yet complete: marked Room 665. He knocked.
Room service!Post 3 - Battle Post:The door not only seperated from its frame, but from the world of objects larger than a matchstick, decimating the hallway within its radius in a roar of flames. That was fine; Walter had smelled the almonds before he even knocked. He knew the scent of C4. Ducked away safely to the side of the hollow doorframe, the young butler took a controlled breath before standing, entering the room briskly and with a businesslike air.
What? he asked, eyeing his target: an obese man sitting on the edge of his bed, cradling a 12-gauge shotgun underarm.
You didn't call for room service? A shame. Walter could feel the heat rising within him, the battle-heat, the heat that heralded the ache.
Well, since this place is so messy, mind if I clean up a little? S-stay away from me, you monster! spat the man, levelling his shotgun. The barrel bucked and the muzzle roared, but the slug never got close to Walter, seeming to deflect off of thin air.
Wh-what..!? Walter extended his fingers. Suddenly the air was alive with the blue gleam of wires. Some snipped at the shotgun, dismantling it with little flicks, the cuts so clean he might as well have used a diamond-edged saw. The man yelped as the last joint of his pinkie finger was severed. Walter folded his hands over his chest, causing several wires to tighten around his target's arms and stomach.
Please, do stay still, he said politely.
If you move even an inch, you'll lose something that can't be reattached.The man stopped squirming.
What do-...What do you want?
Walter grinned. I want to talk about werewolves, Mr Doe. He saw his target go pale. It has come to the attention of my benefactors that you are caging live werewolves somewhere under London, and luring the homeless into the sewers as food. We want you to give us the werewolves, Mr Doe. They would be of great help to our...cause.
I won't tell you anything, whimpered John Doe. Walter thought he could hear a hint of Irish in his accent. You can kill me, but my comrades will continue the cause. Ireland will be liberated, no matter what the means.
IRA, huh? thought Walter, amused. He thinks I work for the government. What's that? I can kill you? Oh, I know I can, Mr Doe. Very easily. I literally just need to lift a finger. He paused, smiled. But I don't plan on killing you, Mr Doe. I plan on making you a deal. If you help us, England will burn more brightly than you ever intended.
The man stopped whimpering. Wait... Who are you?
The Last Battalion, Mr Doe. The Fourth Reich. We, Mr Doe, are dirty, evil, Nazis. And either you will help us, or one of your 'comrades' will. Which do you prefer?
Subject: Walter C. Dornez. 
