Hrothulf
- Rome -- medieval -SPQR- Ventrue -DAV- Talk:Lineage of Mithras
Sobriquet: The Patricide or The Danish Diablerist
Appearance: Hrothulf was born a Dane in ancient England. His face bears a deep scar he got at the hands of a Roman soldier. His blond hair is long, unkempt and hangs down to the middle of his back. Though he doesn't look older than his early 20s, his face bears the worried look that only comes with time.
Behavior: Hrothulf speaks softly, almost as if he were shy. When speaking any language other than his native tongue, his aptitude for foreign languages is lacking and his grammar and syntax are sloppy and unlettered. Having spent centuries as the object of an abusive sire, he tends to mumble and look away. However, Hrothulf is tall, big boned and almost ridiculously muscular man whose very form is intimidating. He does not anger easily, and neither insults, nor shouting stir a reaction from him. This is because Hrothulf knows his own worth and how to handle virtually any situation; a man of action, rather than words, he has slain more than his share enemies and his warrior's form, a testament of scars bears this out.
History: Hrothulf was born of the Germanic tribe of the Danes in the middle years of the 4th century. He first saw battle in 380 A.D. at the age 18. His tribe had planned an assault on the Roman settlement and fort of Pons Aelius (modern Newcastle upon Tyne), the easternmost end of Hadrian's wall. The raid was foiled by Roman tactics and Hrothulf lay upon the battlefield stabbed through the gut with a javelin. With the fall of night, Hrothulf expected predators to come for him and the other mortally wounded, but heard instead of animalistic growls, the jingle of a horses bells. A wealthy Roman on horse-back dismounted and offered him a quick death if he would stand to fight, Hrothulf proved his worth, and died like a man with a Roman blade in his heart.
When he woke once more, he expected to see the warrior women of Wodan, but saw instead the smiling face of the Roman lord who slew him. The Roman explained that his courage had won him immortality, just not the kind he had sought and introduced himself. Marius had been a noble of the Equestrian rank when he had earned the Embraced centuries earlier from the ancient prince of Rome, Camilla. Marius had come to Britannia two centuries before and had been given the right to sire by none other than the god Mithras. Hrothulf was Marius first childe, whom he bound for three consecutive nights with chains and seven centuries with the blood-oath. Marius treated Hrothulf as little more than a muscle bound slave and after perfecting his training, created a second childe, Gracis Nostinus. Although technically older than Hrothulf, Gracis was more a sniveling boy than a man, but he served better as the son that Marius had never had.
In 410 A.D., the Romans withdrew from Britannia and Pons Aelius became Monkchester a primary tributary of the new Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria. Over the centuries the town grew and Marius made other childer, all resided with their sire for the length of a mortal lifetime, but eventually Marius would tire of them and they would leave of their own volition or be forced out. All that is save Hrothulf and Gracis, the two became regular companions and something like friends, having a number of shared adventures, but both remained slaves of Marius. Five centuries passed, in 876 both Monkchester and Marius were nearly destroyed by Danish invaders who sacked and burned the city. Although Marius did not succumb to torpor, he was never the same and thereafter treated Hrothulf as if he were responsible for his master's injuries and near final death. It was at this point that Marius became actively abusive rather than simply haughty and demanding, and the following two centuries were worse. Surprisingly often, Gracis would try to intervene, but never so if it meant even a stern rebuke from Marius, for Gracis was ever his favorite.
Then came a night in 1088 when the town of Monkchester rebelled against the harsh treatment and heavy taxes of the Norman conquerors. That night would remain imprinted on Hrothulf's memory forever. Inside Marius' manor, sire and childer lay in the study reading, Hrothulf had been goaded by Gracis into practicing Greek and Latin with him, while Marius studied the new districts laid out by the Norman invaders and how it might affect his income from lands long held in other names. When once again Hrothulf stumbled through a particularly difficult part of the Illiad. Marius burst out laughing and had it ended there, nothing more might have occurred. But then there was shouting at the gate of the manse and Normans forcing their way into the house. Marius filled with riotous wrath, drew his ancient sword, a relic brought back from the final third and final Punic war.
As the Norman soldiers burst into the room with burning torches and wooden spears, Marius exploded in rage or fear, tearing the soldiers to pieces. In that moment as Marius descended into bestiality, all the centuries of his abuse returned to Hrothulf's mind and his bond to Marius broke. As Gracis fled screaming in fear from the fire bearing soldiers, Hrothulf picked up his sire's sword and pinned Marius to he wall with the blade. Despite the power of the ancient blade, somehow Marius still survived and as his beast receded, he cursed Hrothulf as an unfaithful childe and a traitor, in return Hrothulf buried his fangs in his sire's neck until he turned to bones and ash.
In that heady moment, as Hrothulf tried to control the new power flowing through him, Gracis found the courage to return with sword in hand to battle him. The duel was over almost before it began and once again Hrothulf buried his sire's sword in his opponent's chest. Then and there, as Gracis lay mewling upon the floor at Hrothulf's feet, his rage spent and the shadow of Marius upon his mind, he decided not to slay his blood-brother. By then, the fire had spread through the manse. Hrothulf having had his fill of killing, walked past Gracis bleeding form, out of the burning manse and into the night.
For a time, Hrothulf just wandered without direction, feeding where ever he wanted and sleeping where he might. In time, his blood siblings began to hunt him and he slew many of them and all of them spoke Gracis' name when he asked them why they would hunt him so. Over a decade had passed as Hrothulf wandered through northern England, he had learned the powers taught by his bestial cousins and struggled with the shade of Marius who would appear to torment him, compelling him to do terrible things and showing him worse. When Hrothulf finally decided to end Gracis' life, he returned to Monkchester to find an entirely different town populated by Normans and no sign of Gracis. It took time and persuasion on Hrothulf's part to discover what had become of Gracis. A Frankish ship's captain supplied the details, for Gracis had paid for passage from Monkchester to Calais and from there Hrothulf trailed him all the way to Rome.
Recent Events: Hrothulf has come to Rome to finish the struggle with Gracis once and for all. But after his meeting with Eadwulf the Saxon blood-drinker, he knows that something far more sinister is unfolding in Rome and somehow Gracis is at the heart of it.
