True Name: Aosi
Name: Friedrik Emanuel Kaine
Age: Appearance- 24 True - 2769
Character's Physical Description: He is a 6 foot male with a cut-muscular tone, weighing about 175 lbs. He has extremely fair skin because he is not exactly accustomed to sunlight. He has cold-azure eyes that have a red outlining, and they have been noted to be large, but it is because he always keeps his eyes open. His stare is apathetic and is indifferent during most occasions. He has a regal stand, because he knows that he is the son of a Duchess. He is very handsome, descending from royalty, but has a slight homely look if given a close examination since his father was a slave of the Duchess. His hair is white, and is gelled upward. He wears a long blue coat over his black vested suit. He wears a cravat instead of a tie, because he wants to emulate the Victorian era of which he should have been born.
Character's Personality: While he is not a man of prepossessing artistic talent, Friedrik does dabble in piano and blues guitar. He is far more skilled a hand at the guitar than at the piano, if only by virtue of the guitar being far more portable in his travels than a piano might prove itself. Despite that disparity, he does maintain an impressive catalog of pieces at his disposal; mostly of French and Germanic classical origins. His guitar repertoire far more able, yet far more restricted as well as he plays only improvisational pieces in the blues or jazz style rather than pieces written by others. For a time, though, he did try his hand at acting. He did not claim any major roles or win accolades form the professional community, but he did enjoy his time in several small Shakespearean productions; among which his favorite was Macbeth.
His love for the arts is not limited to those in the English language, though, as he is fluent in several languages. His German is perfect with only the slightest Austrian inflection and his French, while fluent, is passable as a Rhineland dialect. His English carries a hint of a Germanic accent, traceable by a skilled ear to Rhineland, as well. His Greek, Latin and Italian all are of a dialect that, while completely understandable in the modern world, are far older in origins. A linguistic scholar would be able to narrow that dialect down to the pre-Republic era. Likewise with his Hebrew, Farsi and Persian; all are of older roots than their modern counterparts, but none but the most learned scholars would be able to tell a difference for sure.
Friedrik has a talent for negotiation and debate, as well as a seemingly natural affinity toward logical thought and mathematics. While he has those talents, he rarely has cause to put them to extensive use. He is skilled, if one could call it that, at both running and swimming; enjoying both thoroughly, though typically only when he is alone, and then never in artificial settings such as a track, sidewalk or pool. He is in peak physical condition because of those loves, as as because of religious training in combat. His is nigh beyond reproach in his hand at the sword or knife, and his skill with a staff is impressive to say the least. Where he truly shines, though, is in hand-to-hand combat. His fighting style is a blending of the fluidity and grace of capoeira and the raw close-quarters brutality of krav maga.
BC 788 - BC 762
Born in the spring amongst the new growth of what would later be called Germania, Friedrik was brought to a hard life. One filled with toil and test. He was raised in the forests of that land. Worked and hunted. Helped the tribe that he was a member of move from place to place, following the game and gathering fruits. Building huts and packing them up again. He was just another member of the tribe. But as he grew, he noticed things; others noticed things.
BC 762 - BC 514
At first, it was all minor. Physical oddities, unexplainable mutations. In the beginning the tribe was sympathetic to the child and mother, striving to push out whatever demonic presence must have been causing the ailment. Shamen used potions and poultices and seers cast bones. None, however, came up with answer or solution. But then, one fateful night, a member of the tribe discovered him with his mother; he covered in blood, she missing select portions of her body. Skin was missing, bone snapped like so many twigs and not a trace of any was found; Friedrik had eaten it all, blood, flesh, and bone.
The council met and debated over what to do with him next. Some advocated simply killing him, others were less harsh. The consensus, however, was the he would not be allowed to remain with their people. He would be cast out to fend for himself or die. So it was that the young lad from one of many ancient Germanic tribes was cast out. Exiled. Left to die in the harsh wild as an abomination of nature. During the first few days, perhaps even weeks, the Friedrik's will was put to the test, broken, solidified, and again broken. He became wild, forsaking near all vestiges of humanity. He lost all sense of identity that he shared with what were once his people. With nothing to restraint him and his desires driving him, he spent much of this time hunting and killing; first animals, then as he grew bolder, humans; becoming cannibal. He found that he needed those hunts and the hot, fresh blood on his skin.
His wanderings and hunts brought him further south into the mountains; the Alps they would be called. There he survived, no, thrived, upon the mountain peoples. Friedrik was as a scourge upon the lands, preying upon those who stray too far from the fire-light. Ancient ledgends of fearsome creatures stalking the night and preying on fear; beasts taking children and women in the darkness; mysterious disappearances; these are halmarks of Friedrik's legacy. The mountains became a place to be feared by all save those few who were fools. What villages remained he razed to the ground, when others came, he destroyed them as well. Little did he know of restraint, little did he care. He wanted to kill, to feed; he needed to bleed the world dry. Despite his isolation, word reached his ears of new lands being established along the Mediterranean.
Friedrik travelled along the mountains toward the more temperate climates, making is way to the growing city states of Greece. He visited Cumae, the first of these people's colonies, though mostly spent his time in the mountainous mainland away from much of the settled areas. He wandered the nations of the mediterranean for long years, killing as he pleased without the slightest bit of remorse. Centuries of solitude, however, lead a man to wonder what he is missing. And so, with that burning need to know within him, he came out of hiding and joined the Mediterranean world. He was taught classically, learning philosophy, math, and the natural sciences from the truly great minds of the world. He managed to find his way to Syracuse and, later, came across a man named Pythagorus. He spent some time with the man, learning from him as a mentor.
The life he was leading now, however, was not enough. Soon he felt the need for death, not just blood. And so it was that during the early years of the Greco-Persian wars that Friedrik slaughtered hundreds of innocents, bathing in their blood and revelling in their deaths. He was enthralled at watching the life drain from a person's eyes. His wandering slaughters took him eastward where he encountered an enigmatic man that seemed to share his penchant for chaos and death. This was a man he would, off and on throughout the remainder of his years, encounter and share tales with. Over time, Friedrik and Jago developed a bond, sick and twisted though it may be, but a bond all the same. Soon, though, the war came too near and Friedrik was forced to leave the lands of Greece as the forces of the Persian army swept westward.
BC 514 - BC 6
It was then, in that pre-Republic era, that Friedrik found himself in Rome. The year was BC 514 and the Kingdom was held under the firm grasp of Lucius Tarquinius Superbus. Friedrik actually met the man several times, becoming close to him as friend and advisor, before the people deposed him and set up the Republic. Friedrik stayed in Rome during the Republic era for some time before growing tired of the people and their politics. It was during his stay, however, that he met the most curious of men. His name was Methos, and Freidrik and he became fast friends. No longer did he yearn for destruction, though occasionally he did delight in the killing. Greece, however, he had found much more to his liking; far more places for him to live in solitude when he so desired. War, however, was still ravaging much of Greece. He traveled to northern Greece, finding himself in Thermopylae when the Persians came to invade. He watched much of that great battle where so few held so many at bay; these people were quite impressive. He left, however, before the final death had been dealt, though not without killing a handful of Persians to see if their blood had a different taste to it than Greco-Roman blood.
He went next to Athens, studying and learning from Socrates for a time before spending several years in Sparta. When Socrates was executed, Friedrik was tempted to raze Athens to the ground. He nearly did, in fact, but something inside of him held back that rage. How dare they extinguish such a brilliant flame? Friedrik separated himself from civilization, regressing into his old self once again. People died, villages vanished, and blood soaked the soil for many long years. More than a century later, long after news of Alexander and his exploits had died down and the rumors of his death were spreading, Friedrik found himself having grown tired of killing unfettered. War, once again, caught his ear. A great war between the two most powerful civilizations; Friedrik was drawn to the carnage.
He fought, he killed, indisciminately. Some of those who died were Roman, some Carthaginian. He sated his lust for blood and death in all three Punic Wars. By the end of the third, he had had his fill and he returned to life within the Republic. By this point in his life, the physical deformations began to fade until he was passable in polite society. Friedrik even became a person of some minor importance in Rome itself. He lived and kept mostly to himself in Romee until well into the Empire era. People, however, began asking questions about his continued youthful appearance. Friedrick, of course, did not age. He did not know why, but instead of taking the risk of being drawn into more trouble than he wanted, he left Rome behind and traveled to Judea in the wake of the Empire taking control.
BC 6 - 843 AD
He arrived in Judea to hear news of a Germanic state being formed. The idea that his homeland was finally consolidating was more comforting that he would have liked. Why should he feel ties to the fatherland when his people had forsaken him to the elements? He felt a slight urge to head to Germania and destroy the entire thing before it even had a chance at getting off the ground. He, however, did no such thing; remaining in Judea through the passing back and forth of power.
During his stay in Judea, Friedrik took to travelling with, and having discussions with, an interesting young man claiming to be the son of God. This man, Jesus was his name, had many followers and a select group of his closest friends. All of them were interesting people, though Friedrik had serious doubts about the mental stability of a few. And outright distrusted one in particular. He, however, was not in any position to be warning anyone about anything; nor did he really care to get that involved. Friedrik did, however, spend many a night debating with Jesus on whether God had intended for Friedrik to be what he was. Jesus was never all that straight forward with his answers, but the discussions were excellent mental exercise. Several of those closest to the enigmatic man distrusted Friedrik and tried, though always failing, on more than once occasion to have Jesus cast him from the group.
It was Somewhere around 30 AD that Friedrik decided to head back to Rome. A few years later he heard rumors about Jesus having been betrayed by one of his own people and crucified. Other tales told of him rising from the grave. The stories made Friedrik shudder every time he heard them, and he could not help but wonder if Jesus had been something like he, himself, was. He also wondered if he had found his father; the Father. One of his followers, in particular, captured great notoriety in the following years. Peter, it seems, would turn the world on end in loving memory of his fallen mentor.
Many years later, Friedrik was seated upon a rooftop in Rome looking out at the night sky when he caught sight of a fire spreading rapidly through the city. For some reason, he had always felt a little squeamish around flame, so he left the city. He returned days later to find that the city had nearly burned itself to ruins; many were blaming the latest emperor, Friedrik was never really sure what happened, but he did not care all that much. That little sting inside of him was still singing to return to the fatherland and see this great Germanic state he had heard so much about.
In Germania he remained. He even managed to find his old haunts, so to speak. He took up residence in a heavily wooded region and lived on his own. In the many centuries that had already passed, Friedrik had grown weary of this world and wanted, mostly, to be left alone. What few people came around, he let pass unless the insisted on bothering him; those he slaughtered. Few, after several years of stories centered around vanishing travelers, entered his domain. That was the was Friedrik liked his life at that point, and that was the way it would stay. At least until an ambitious Roman emperor named Marcus Aurelius pushed the boundaries of empire into Germania.
Battles raged, lives were taken; some even by Friedrik's own hands. On more than one occasion he even decimated entire armies when the mood struck him, and their paths brought them too near his lands. Eventually, however, he grew tired of the ceaseless fighting and returned to Rome to find that much had changed. The Emperor had died, succeeded by his son, and the city was in upheaval. Despite the chaos, subdued by an iron fist, Friedrik enjoyed the renewed gladiatorial games. Even though he could not join in the carnage, he gleaned something from simply watching from the shadows. Though on the occasional night, he would, himself, go into the city and make his own kills.
For a long time, Friedrik roamed the Empire / Republic seeing the rise and fall of many great leaders, as well as many lesser men. Some of those leaders even benefitted from his own council. He watched the borders expand and contract, he even saw the cleaving of the lands into two powers, east and west. Much of this time, Friedrik was docile. He killed, yes, but he did so with more discretion and greater selection. Very few and far between were his rampages, though they still did occur, and even when he was in a rage his wrath was more subdued. He no longer consumed his prey, he merely drank their blood. Many a beautiful young Roman fell victim to his charm; several of which became as he. None, however, did he keep near him. For despite his charm and guile, despite all of his travels and accomplishments, Friedrik was still, by nature, a solitary man.
Soon he became too well known. Young ladies were impressing upon him, young lads were growing tired of his ability to steal the heart of any lass. With the rise of the Frankish Empire, Friedrik decided to return once again to his homeland, settling in the Rhine river valley near Strausburg. With the falling of Clovis I, Friedrik rose to power along with other lords of the Merovingian Kingdom. He held his lands with an iron fist, subjugating those that would bend to his will and killing those who did not. When challenged, he stormed into battle unafraid and slaughtered the opposition. He was a terrible lord who ruled with fear and blood.
After near three-hundred years, the kings began to take great interest in Friedrik's lands. They used their resources to undercut his efforts at maintaining a stable hold on his people. When Friedrik learned of their interferance with his affairs, he grew angry. Rather than simply destroy the king at the time, he simply conspired to overthrow the Merovingian line. Friedrik was not central or key to the plot, though his support was instrumental in installing the Carolingian line and consolidating the Empire. In exchange, the Carolingian emperors left him to his own devices.
For the duration of Carolingian rule, Friedrik was prosperous; though his people suffered greatly for his comfort. He cared little, though over time he began to mellow considerably. No longer did his slay wantonly; he fed, yes, and occasionally was a scourge to the innocent, but he was mellowing with age. As the era of the Frankish Kingdom came to a close, Friedrik grew restless and relocated to Reims.
843 AD - 1575 AD
Friedrik's time in France was quiet and relatively peaceful. His appreciation for human life grew during this time as he developed friendships with the myriad priests who lived and breathed the great cathedral. Even though Friedrik never set foot inside that massive building, he delighted in debating and discussing their Bible. Friedrik, of course, had the advantage of having been alive during a good deal of the stories. He had also walked with their Messiah and had many of the same discussions with the man himself. None-the-less, Friedrik enjoyed his time in Reims. He traveled the countryside, visiting the various regions of the fledgling country. News reached him of a young lad named William and his endeavors to claim an island for his people, the great church embarked upon a holy war.
Friedrik stayed out of much of the fighting. He preferred, now, to take prey that was unaware of him and leave them with no memory of what had happened. He, at times, even took prey that was willing; even though they knew not what they were agreeing to at the time. By large, Friedrik was beginning to blend in with the human society. The unexplained deaths and disappearances that once followed him were no more. If anything, he was making contributions to the civilization in which he dwelt. At the outbreak of full war, however, between that new lands settled by William and the lands in which he spent his time, Friedrik was drawn into the conflict as a moth to the flame. He felt an affinity to these people for some reason, and he wished to help them survive.
As the years of war pressed on, Friedrik had countless kills to his credit; sometimes wiping out entire armies. It was not until the early-mid 1400s that he saw something he could not explain or, surprisingly, fathom. The people of France took up arms behind a young maid. In a society which respected strength and masculinity above all else, the likelihood of a young girl rising to such a position was, well, impossible. Here she was, however, and Friedrik was curious. He spent time with her, questioned her, even fed from her on more than one occasion. Whether she was crazy or truly represented what she was, Friedrik was never quite sure. Whatever was going on, she whole-heartedly believed what she was claiming. Her life, however, ended tragically after the city of Orléans beseiged; though perhaps it was a boon, for not long after her demise, France managed to beat back Brittain suitably enough.
Friedrik, however, was curious as to why the British would have waged such a war for so long. In an effort to understand this war-like nation, Friedrik relocated, once again, to the nations capitol city: London. When he arrived in the city, the populous was buzzing with talk of a 'New World' and some gentleman by the name of Columbus. It seemed that this man had sailed across the great ocean and discovered a new land rife with wonderous sights and even peoples. This notion of an entire new civilization and world intrigued Friedrik. He, however, wanted to remain in London for a time while he learned more of this different culture. He had seen the warrior tribes of Germania, the structured militaristic cultures of both Greece and Rome, and he had seen the agrarian culture in France. These British people were a healthy mix of several of those aspects.
1575 AD - 1692 AD
After a few long years on the island, Friedrik's attention was drawn to an expedition that was to sail to the new world. This trip was designed to set up a colony. Friedrik was immediately interested and maneuvered his way into the company that was to embark upon this auspicious voyage. The ocean voyage was long, but he arrived safely in the New World where the leaders of the expedition proclaimed the colony to be called Roanoke. Friedrik thought the name left something to be desired, but went along with things and immediately began exploring the area. He came in contact with the indiginous peoples and found, not too surprisingly, there was an immediate communication barrier. He, however, dipped into their minds and began learning their language.
He spent many months with these people. He learned of their language, their religion, their customs; he soaked up their culture like a sponge. In all his travels in Europe, he had never encountered a civilization as interesting. When he returned to the colony to tell them what he had discovered, the people were gone. Buildings abandoned. This puzzled Friedrik greatly and he set to investigating what had happened. He, of course, never found out and spent many years with those same natives. During his stay, the natives began to view him as a manifestation of their spirit of death. Most likely, this was due to the fact that Friedrik did not age. It also could not have helped matters much that one night he was discovered drinking the blood of a rival tribesman. Thus, the story was born and it was passed down from generation to generation. He used this to his advantage, and no longer had to hide his feeding habits; the tribe actually began offering sacrifices.
It was not until a new British colony was founded, and remained, that Friedrik emerged from the wild and mingled with those in what they had called Jamestown. Friedrik fit in quite nicely, and was never questioned about anything. Everyone simply assumed he had come on a different ship than they had; much to his advantage to avoid many questions. He had to adjust to concealing his nature once again; not out of necessity, but out of respect. He did not want these people to fear him or flee, he wanted to be their contemporary. As the proliferation of British colonies became more apparent, Friedrik began traveling between them. He managed to gain lands and wealth by doing favors for the ruling body. He had property and businesses in various locations, all run and managed by vassals that he trusted because he had made them into what he was. He found that when he created one of his kind, they had little choice but to obey him; some even willingly devoted themselves to his service.
He eventually managed to find his way into Boston and, later, to a small town called Salem. He became fast friends with the Governor of the colony, as well as with several of the locals. He did not gain property here, however, as he seemed to have arrived in the midst of some great upheaval. Several young girls, it seemed, had accused others in the town of being witches. This puzzled Friedrik, as he had met several witches and he had not encountered any signs of them here. He watched from a distance, lest the allegations spread to him for whatever reason. Late in the year 1692, however, he was dismayed that these girls were winning over those set to judge the accused. Rather than watch the appointed executions, Friedrik bartered passage back to London. These American people were, truly, barbaric if they would slaughter their own at the word of young whelps.
1692 AD - 1750 AD
Disgusted as he was with the Americans and their behavior, Friedrik departed for the middle of the country, relocating west beyond the great river that divided the land. The wide open plains did not call to him; instead it was the great spine of mountains that sprung from far to the north to a great canyon in the south. It was here that he was approached by the oddest of people. A pair, a couple perhaps. They felt different; like himself. He had always known he was different; how could he not have, truly? He learned, that night, the truth of himself. He stayed there in those mountains with them, and others of their kind, learning. Training to hone his abilities; abilities that he had used until then simply on reflex and instinct. Friedrik, it seemed, was Vampire.
1750 AD - Present
For many years, Friedrik lived in those mountains. Learned until he was ready to move out on his own again. To travel again. To explore what had become of the Americans and their country as it had grown up around him. He began at the gateway city along the great river. From there he traveled about the country and toured the great cities of the nation. Spending a little time in each before moving to the next. His wanderings took him from the cold north east to the warm southern coasts; the rainy Pacific northwest. Working his way down the Pacific coast. All the while, he felt the pull to theater. An acting troupe more or less fell into his care and he took those reins and embraced that lifestyle.
Sorry if it took long. it seems, it became quite long.