Svetlana Fatima Ovcharoba-Kudrov or Stylet [WIP]

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.

(I've watched
the OVA up to episode 8, and am currently reading the manga, at
chapter 43. I also watched the anime, but... bleh.)

NOTE: In the process of drawing this character, but please refer to the image links I've included for better visualization. Also, excuse the weird formatting. OpenOffice is eh.

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Name: Svetlana Fatima Ovcharova-Kudrov, goes by the alias of Stylet at Hellsing. Stylet means 'sharp.'

Age: 20.

Gender: Female.

Physical appearance: The young Ruskie stands at a mere 5'1"
(or 155 cm) barefoot. The long strands of hair, earthy tones at the
root that blend down into a bright amber-yellow, reach to the low of
her back with ease, while in the front it stops short in a bang, and
rests on her forehead. Eyes, austere and bold in blue are always
looking around in constant observation. Below the left eye sits a
black beauty mark, simple in shape. Her face isn't too strong in
angles (save for her high cheekbones), but her jaw is a fluent
marriage between a V and a U, that takes after the latter more when
she smiles, her cheeks turning into small apples. Her nose is that of
a button, and her lips are shaped fully. Her skin is light brown,
almost golden and compliments the stark contrast of her hair. She
isn't without her numerous scars, though almost ethereal from age
and healing. Tiny dark brown freckles adorn her shoulders and back,
her own personal constellations, always hidden away under her
jacket if she can help it. 106 pounds (48 kg) drenched, she carries
the frame of a thief, lithe but delicately muscled in her arms and legs
to make quick getaways.

Clothing of choice: Svetlana prefers a more eclectic style of
clothing, taking some influences from the punk era of the 1980s to
the mod influences in the 1960s, and anything else that catches her
fancy. A black cropped turtleneck top (rarely short sleeved) graces her upper body, simple
in design and free of any graphics or statements. About an inch or
two below the end of the top, comes a stretch black skirt that sits
directly on her waist. Her legs are covered in sheer tights, riddled
with holes and rips. Bold red patent leather laced boots give her
another 3" to her height. Her left hand wears a leather glove in the
same shade of red as her boots, and her middle finger on her right
hand wear a silver knuckle ring. On her neck hangs a rosary, beaded
with Mother of Pearl beads, the chainlinks gold, with a Russian
Orthodox cross hanging on the end of it. Her favorite bomber jacket is
usually always on her if she's out and about, the patches of the
Hellsing Organization and the USSR sitting on her left breast and
right upper arm, respectively. She also has a few trinkets on her right
breast pocket; three pins/buttons of a stiletto, a Jolly Roger/skull
and crossbones, and a sideways smiley are attached onto the pocket,
while a safety pin with colorful letter beads spelling "kill 'um all"
dangles from the zipper.

Weaponry of choice: The French Joubert Pepperbox-Stiletto is Svetlana's weapon of choice; a revolver disguised as a cane,
and a stiletto dagger all in one. It's a fine Paris Brevette rimfire six
shot revolver that has a double action trigger, while the stiletto is 5"
and can be detached to make the pistol a garter pistol. It boast a
girm stag handle, folding trigger, a tropical wood shaft and metal
ferrule-H. The pistol can use most rimfire ammunition, excluding the
.17 Hornady Magnum. The cane is used more often, as Svetlana
prefers melee or unarmed combat to shooting.

Pros: All-around weapon, good for short and mid to long range
combat, uses most .22 ammunition
Cons: All .22 ammunition only made by one local supplier, thus
ammo and custom made ammo (silver) is more expensive. Removing
gun from cane sometimes sticks/jams.

She also knows jojutsu and some defensive tai-chi.


Race: Human.

Abilities: Normal human, so no extraordinary abilities, but she
can't forget what she sees (photographic memory).

Organization: Hellsing.

Personality: Svetlana can be happy-go-lucky, or detached. She
keeps her mouth shut when in a new environment with people she
doesn't have a connection with, but if she makes a friend and feels
comfortable, she'll open up, and quite well too. She enjoys divulging
in telling a friend what she's thinking or feeling on something.
Opinionated and sometimes loud, there's almost nothing that can be
done to prevent Svetlana in sharing her opinion, no matter who's
listening. If she feels it's the truth, then it will be heard. She also has a bit of a potty mouth, and can be annoyed rather easily in mundane settings. She enjoys jokes. Religious
views, she believes, are somewhat irrelevant. However someone connects to the
Lord is how they connect to Him, so long as they accept Him as their
Savior. In her private quarters, she softly talks and confides in an old bear she's had ever since she was little. She keeps him a secret, to prevent ridicule. Professionally, she stays focused on the one objective, until all's completed. A perfectionist, she wants everything done correctly the first time around, to prevent time wasted. When all's falling around her, she manages to keep a cool and collected conduct to ensure the job is done. She lives for food, and is no slouch in the kitchen. A worldly girl with some reservations in place, she does her best to accept everyone, unless they give her a reason not to. Her fierce loyalty will put someone in very bad graces with her if they harm someone she's close to. In a fight, she prefers the elusive route than the direct one, using hand-to-hand techniques to trip an enemy up or disable them, but can and will defend herself if it comes down to it.

Rank: Infantry/ground support/stealth agent.

Biography: Svetlana Fatima Ovcharova-Kudrov was born in
Russia, and had a silver spoon popped her mouth, though without
the loving warmth of parents to enjoy her wealth with. She was born
to a unwed teenage mother. Already exiled from her home, wealth,
inheritance and family once they learned of her pregnancy, she went
from town to town, finding temporary shelter with kind couples or
lecherous men. In her plight, she knew that she couldn't raise the
child, and so delivered the newborn to a distant relative's estate, an
uncle, an Afanasei Konstantinov.

She banged on the vast wooden doors. Hastily, and tearfully, she
kissed the small bundle on the lips and forehead, and shot into the
darkness.

Afanasei, who sent his housestaff away for the weekend, came to the
door, and found the handbasket. The note tucked in with the bundle
read, "This is your grandniece. Please take care of her." Along with
the note came with some legal documentation with her name, but no
mother or father signed on the forms.

Afanasei, a wealthy retired banker in the town of Ryazan, took the
baby in.

A well-traveled man, he taught Svetlana the many things about the
world, and hired many tutors to teach her all there is to know. He,
himself, personally taught her a bit of the art of jo, and how to shoot
a gun. He vowed that despite her beginnings, she would have a
meaningful life.

Svetlana, now 7, in all her childish beauty loved her granduncle like a
father, but resented the fact she had to stay indoors. Why couldn't
she go and play with the other children of the town? Among her many
stuffed toys and books, she felt lonely.

"It is not safe for us, for you, vozlyublennyy (beloved)," He would
retort, stroking her golden locks while she cuddled in his lap.
"Despite the beauty of the world, it is unsafe."

One clouded night, the young Svetlana couldn't stay asleep. She rose
from her immense bed, and padded with bare feet to her uncle's room
to have him rock her, but he wasn't there to her surprise and disdain.
With her teddy named Sladkoye (Sweet) tucked in her arm, she
ventured the mansion, her small voice echoing in the halls, calling
for her uncle.

Her eyes fell onto a thick, dark splatter on the tiled floors on the
lower floor. Climbing down the grand staircase, she neared the
splatter, and examined it. The air was thick with a coppery smell, the
splatter not sole, but part of a cluster of drips and spills that led to
her uncle's study.

Svetlana stepped in the blood trail, small footprints forming behind
her, making her way to the study. A flicking light graced the
bookcases, a candle was lit.

Coming into the study, Svetlana's eyes grew round to the sight
before her. Blood, thick, copious amounts of crimson dripped and
sloshed on her uncle's desk. His chair was turned away from the
doorframe, a pale arm twitching with the accompanying sound of a
death rattle emerging from the prey.

"U-uncle..?"

The body fell with a heavy 'thump' to the floor, as Afanasei stood,
and turned to his niece with a smile. "Svetlana, you are awake. What
is wrong, dear?" He began to step to her, his eyes softening as he
wiped her mouth.

The man that graced the floor wore very particular clothing, and had
a silver cross on a chain, hanging from his neck. In his hand he
tightly grasped a bottle of holy water.

Svetlana stepped back, slipping a little on the blood trail behind her.
"Uncle, what is this?"

"This is why I do not allow you to leave the house, devochka." Her
uncle said simply, "People will harm you, because you are my niece."
He kneeled down to her level, and took her little hand. "Uncle is a...
He is not normal, you see. I do not want people to make the
assumption you are the same, and harm you."

Svetlana opened her mouth, but relented. She didn't want to hurt his
feelings, and simply hugged him. Her uncle wrapped his arms around
her, and embraced her whole.

Ever since that fateful night, her uncle has told her everything about
the other side of the world she didn't know about, especially
vampires. How they are born, how they work, how to kill them. He
assured her, that not all of them were like him, so she had to keep
her wits about her. She studied and learned, and once she was 17,
went to the local church everyday to gain the Lord's blessing from
evil for her and her uncle. While at the local pub, she overheard some
conversation about an organization that hunted vampires, something
called Hellsing. She listened in as hard as she could, and once she
got what she needed, she was off.

At around 18, she requested a small fund from her uncle to travel the
world as well. He wasn't happy with it, thinking that she was safer
with her, but he knew that he couldn't keep her home forever. With 4
million rubles (85,834 GBP, $132,779), she made her way to Britain,
to find, and possibly join the Hellsing Organization.

Scouring the town of London, Svetlana had almost given up hope of
even finding a trace of the Hellsing Organization, until she ventured
out of a pub late one night. Not boozed, but buzzed, she stepped
down an alleyway, thinking it would be a shorter way back to her
small abode. A dark, dead end greeted her, and when she turned, a
figure lunged at her neck, doing its best to tear it away. Reacting
quickly, she took the figure's arm and preformed a hiptoss. She
dropped onto her knee, and snapped its arm, her hand coming down
onto its neck. Svetlana quickly looked it over, and found it was a
man, but he wasn't human. The sharp teeth was an instant giveaway.
Pulling a small stilleto from her boot, she slashed clean across the
neck with no splatter. She uttered a silent prayer, before standing
and turning, finding more figures, three of them.

"Fuck, how many of there are you?" She steeled herself, gritting her
teeth as they stepped forward.

"Stand down, we're human. That was excellent, how you responded
quickly and executed. Are you a professional?" The frontman of the three said, extending a hand. “We're with the Hellsing Organization."

Svetlana's skeptical look softened when she saw the insignias on their combat vests. And with a huge grin, she clapped her hand into his for a hearty shake.


RP sample: (1) “Oh, Goooood.” The whining raised the highest ceilings of the establishment. Svetlana, unlucky in anything involving the government, was in the processing line for citizenship. She felt the glares at the back of her head while tossing hers back, another agonizing moan emerging in a crescendo.
“Ma'am,” A distant voice sounded from the front door, “I'm going to have to ask you to keep quiet or I'll escort you from the premises.” The security guard sent a glower in her direction. She kissed her teeth. Uttering cursings in her native tongue, Svetlana straightened up with a deep pout. There was too much else to do to be bothered with this complete bullshit.
“Next!” Shrill, cockney and booming noise came from the front of the line. The Ruskie resisted the urge to dig her fingernails in her face and pull it off in aggravation. Dear Lord in Heaven, she echoed in the privacy of her mind, what have I done to deserve this? Have I not served you well?
It was the only line open in the immigration office, the one she stood in. Honey-colored hands topped with pink painted nails grasped at the cross dangling from her neck, Lord, please, make this line go faster, I beg of you. The only reason why she was even here in the first place, was because of Hellsing. And to become a member of Hellsing, you have to be a citizen of the country. It made sense, at first, so she obliged, but she never knew she had to deal with this.
The line shuffled forward in a crawling march, every 20 minutes an ear-shattering 'Next!' was vocalized. If suicide was not a sin, Svetlana would have already slit the attendant's throat, then her own.
She was fourth in line now, behind a fetid, obese man and a very long, skinny woman who insisted on smacking her gum in her ear. The blonde Ruskie gritted her teeth, and began reciting The Lord's Prayer in her head, Our Father, Who art thou in Heaven...
“I can take the next person here,” Softly someone said. Svetlana's sight shot to the corner of her eye as she saw the “NEXT WINDOW” sign be taken down, and replaced with a sweet, gentle-sounding young woman. Svetlana nearly shoved the gum-smacking woman to propel herself forward, getting a mad dash to the new window. She placed her manilla folder in front of the lady, with a huge grin. “I'm here to apply for citizenship!” Thank you, Lord! As the young woman turned away to begin the processing, Svetlana kissed her cross in gratitude.

(2) Shing! Clean across came the stiletto to the pig carcass, a leg dropping to the floor. “Ah, very good, devotchka, you are learning well!”
A 15 year old Svetlana and her uncle were practicing techniques in the courtyard of the estate. Training was now 4 times a week. Afanasei needed to ensure all that he's taught her through the years has stuck. She'll be needing it later.
“Good, good. Now, come at me.” Afanasei fanned his rapier quietly, before taking a combative stance at his niece.
Svetlana gawked a bit, and then laughed. “Uncle, do not be silly. I am not ready--”
The sound of metal cracked and clanked. She was head to head with her uncle, him pressing his rapier into her stiletto. He smirked. Her reaction time was fast. Good. That will come in handy.
The honey-colored girl clenched and bared her teeth. With a quick brush of her leg, her uncle came crashing down to the cobblestone, caught in a forward Russian Leg Sweep. With a tuck and roll, Svetlana was away from her aggressor. Steeled with stiletto at the ready, she waited, watching her uncle with careful consideration... Maybe she went a bit roughly? Goodness, I hope I didn't hurt him.
Soft, almost teasing laughter floated up from her uncle. He sat up, dusting himself off, and faced his protegé. “Very good.” His steps sounded on the cobblestone, approaching slowly at first. “Now, niece,” He began, “We'll see how you do defensively. Do not strike me, evade me.” And he vanished.
Where did he go..? Where?! O-okay, stop... Don't panic... She listened. The drums of her heartbeat filled her ears. It was the only thing she could hear.
A flash of metal came down once more. Svetlana twisted from harm's way. Another came, stabbing towards her, and she slid away from that attempt as well. He was going slowly, she could tell, he moved so quickly before. And now he was taunting her.
“Do not play with me! Give me all you've got!” She growled out. The rapier sliced through her shirt and pierced her side with little regard for her skin.
A strident yell flung from her lips. Hands came to clench and protect the wound, droplets of salty tears forming in clenched eyes.
“Svetlana!” Afanasei dropped his rapier, and came to embrace her. “God, please forgive me. I did not mean it.” He held her tightly, planting soft kisses on the top of her head. “You did good, Svetlana, you did perfectly. I went too fast.”
She bit her lip, her head gesturing her appreciation. Her features were wrenched in pain, but she accepted the praise fully. She still had a lot to learn, she knew, but she was making progress. Her uncle was proud, and she was proud of herself as well.