*UNFINISHED*

HANNIBAL KING

sixty, male, sabbat vampire/tarakian

N I C K NA M E : HAN, HAN SOLO

B I R T H D A T E : UNKNOWN

E Y E C O L O R : ONYX

H A I R C O L O R : RUSSET

H E I G H T : SIX.FIVE

W E I G H T : 210 LBS.

D I S T G U I S H I N G F E A T U R E S : FANGS (THE FUN SHARP POINTY KIND), TARAKIAN MARK ON HIS NECK, SARCASM

F L A V O R : SABBAT/TARAKIAN

D E S C R I P T I O N : HE IS ABLE TO SHAPESHIFT INTO THE FORM OF A BLACK PELTED LURCHER WITH WHITE PAWS.

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W E A P O N S C A R R I E D : list all weapons normally on your character

W E A P O N S O W N E D : list all weapons your character owns but doesn't always carry on them

A C C E S S O R I E S : Anything your character may own/carry on them or just have in general

H O M E :

O C C U P A T I O N :CURRENTLY BARTENDING AT BETWIXT AND BETWEEN WHILE TRYING TO DRINK HIMSELF INTO OBLIVION.

E X T R A D E T A I L S : Anything that drive or whatever.

B I R T H P L A C E : TARAKIAN CARAVAN

F A M I L Y :

PARTNER: TRINITY

CRONE: ARIADNE

H I S T O R Y : 

"A fish and a bird can fall in love, but where would they make a home?"

As Lasher stood among the Tarakian camp who had assembled for the birth of the baby his eyes glowed with pure red fire. These were his enemies. Then again for the Sabbat all creatures could be seen as enemies. His kind were the despised of all camps. Hunted by vampires, hunted by humans, it was a bloodcurse that kept his race among the shadows. Yet here he was surrounded on all sides by armed Tarakians, with the woman he loved squeezing his hand as she screamed around the bark that was clenched between her teeth. The birth of a new Sabbat. An occasion rarely seen by any in the world, and yet this was not the happy occasion it should have been. Not for either side.

Lasher and Dalios had fallen in love, against their better instincts and judegement. She was a rare breed of tolerant among her clan and he was more danger to himself than to others. When they discovered that she was with child it had come as a shock to them. The reality of a Sabbat breeding was always there, but they had assumed that her Tarakian bloodline would negate his vampire blood and make breeding impossible. A fact they had been more than happy to accept. Until she came up pregnant. Now they would be discovered by her clan. And their child would be in the sites of the creatures of the light and those from the dark courts. They made their decision, took their chances, and Dalios took him to see the Tarakian Crone.

So it was that he spent the last night with the woman he loved in the glow of one of the Caravans fires as she gave birth to his son. The only child he would ever have, even if he knew he could never raise the child. Dalios screamed and he saw black blood spill from between her legs and soak the ground. All around were muttered comment and he felt the tribe move uncomfortably, gripping their weapons and hoisting them. If Dalios died, so would he. It was the agreement they had come to, and the price to be paid for his childs safety.

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That night Dalios, the sister of the Crone, died in childbirth. Shortly after she bled out her lover Lasher King was slain by the tribe that had attended the birth. It was with a heavy heart that the Crone lifted the helpless child Hannibal King up to the night sky, proclaiming him a Tarakian, even if it was in name only. With silver they burned a brand into him, marking him as something other than themselves, and he would bare the mark for the rest of his days. Children were sacred to the clan, and he would be raised as one of them.

The bloodlust set in early, as it did for all vampires of the Sabbat. Unlike his kindred though he was reared and taught to feast on the blood of the undead. His Tarakian blood could be nourished by this as well, but it made the clan nervous. The Crone came to him when he was only ten, and told him that to stay safe he must stop aging. To stay a child so that the rest of the tribe would continue to protect him. For her he did as he was told. He watched the years go by from the body of a child. Learning and training as one of the clan though he never had a mans body.

When the Crones daughter came of age and took the throne of her mother he was there, in the shadows. A part and yet different from all around him. He fit in no ones world, but he tried. Binding himself to the new Crone as the rest of the tribe did he swore to protect her. It wasn't until he met Trinity that his life changed, and he began to embrace more what he was.

She was ten and he was nearly thirty, but they were the same age in appearance. Due mainly to that Hannibal had never truly grown up in his mind. Like Peter Pan he was the eternally sarcastic child. He and Trinity were the best of friends. They trained together, hunted together, and as she grew older he broke the promise he had made to the previous Crone and allowed himself to age as well. It was taxing on his powers, to maintain his age while growing alongside his friend. But he wanted to be with her, wanted to grow with her like he was one of the other boys in the tribe. He wanted to be something he never could.

As they grew they stayed close to the Crones side, fighting as the tribe did. Their enemies were the same. The vampires, the lycanthropes, the things that stalked humanity. They were the hidden saviors of the human race. But time could do funny things to a man, and the two sides of him warred with one another. His bloodlust and his loyalty to the Clan. It was always a battle within him. No matter how he tried he could never be accepted, and so he began to stray from the path of the Tarakian.

It was on one of these solo missions that he and Trinity met Angel. Who was as it turned out a Stigmatic Nephilim. In saving her the two Tarakians found renewed purpose in the world. But what a secret to keep from the family that had protected you all your life. The Crone was like his mother and his mentor all in one, and yet he kept this secret from her. Always watching her eyes to see if she knew the truth.

His life wasn't safe. His existence was a secret. And on all sides he had enemies. But he had the Crone, he had Trinity, and he spent his life killing those who would kill him. And that was basically turning a frown upside down. Hannibal King, hunter, vampire, sarcastic child. Take your pick. If the good side wins out he could be one of Romes saviors, but if the bloodlust wins out he could be its angel of death. Flip a coin, we're taking bets.
(History additions will be made soon)

A L I A S : TOM

P L A Y B Y : RYAN REYNOLDS

C H A R A C T E R S I T E : WWW.NIGHTSTALKERS.MOONFRUIT.COM