Description

Personality

Born a bastard in a military camp Vergil was the from the day he was born a fighter . A sort of been there, done that type he made many enemies easily. But his strength, both mental and physical, saw him well off. After all if you make your enemy your friend you have destroyed him for all intents and purposes. And Vergil took that lesson to heart as it was the core of Roman Military policy and with a Centurion father it was beaten into his head with a dull training gladuis day after day.

Raised thus he grew up hard and fast and came to view weakness with a cold heart. Any who couldn't fight didn't deserve anything lest of all comfort, a philosophy encouraged by his military father. He would have been nothing but a bully if not for his disinterest in the daily matters of the world around him. He was always a bigger picture kinda of guy.

After a trip to Hell ( Literally) and having vampurism inflicted on him Vergil's philosophy of survival of the fittest only become worse and he came to find a cold joy in hunting of both humans and vampires. After all humans where cattle why destroy your food source and anyways they where poor sport. Vergil became a Vampire Hunter out of boredom, one has to fill the dusty years with something after all. And it just fit with his philosophy to boot, efficiency was the hallmark of the Old Roman Empire, especially in it's legions.

Equipment

A true child of the Millennium Vergil disdains weaponry believing it the hallmark of the weak children of the night. However he does carry forearm mounted micro laptop that serves many functions.

History

Vergil was the bastard child of a Celtic Maiden and Roman Centurion. A common enough occurrence in the hey day of Roman Expansion, Vergil was a lucky bastard child. This particular Centurion had a sense of honor of sorts and after finding out the Celtic Maiden was carrying his child the Centurion took both them in. However life in a frontier fort was far from ideal but was better then the ridicule the Celt would get back in her home village and so she stayed. As she swelled and Vergil's birth neared she became in poorer health but still determined to see her babe born and brought into this world.

Born on a cold winter day Vergil's birth was both long and taxing on his mother. Just when the doctor feared he would be born dead Vergil was brought into this world kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs. He was healthy and strong it seems, however the same couldn't be said of his mother. The birth combined with her poor health was the final nail in the coffin and after a few desperate attempts to keep her in this world the Celtic woman went to her pagan gods. Mourning her with a display of emotion unknown among the legions he looked at his son and after but a few moments named him.

However his emotion died with the Celt and he raised his son harsh and quickly teaching him the severity of life in the legions from an early age. However filled with a pride driven by the taunts of bastard thrown his way Vergil took on that harsh lesson and bulldozed his way through them. It gave him an prideful attitude that earned him many enemies but his facile tongue combined with his skills with the tools of a soldier saw him win over or destroy any opposition. And it seemed leadership in the legions was his destiny, something his father was secretly proud of. But the legions demanded seasoned officers so he was thrown to the dogs of war to earn his laurels. Battles blurred together and he proved his skill with a real sword and his ability to lead his fellow soldiers saw him shoot through the ranks. Earning the vaulted rank Legatus Legionis ( Legion Commander) at the Age of 32 he was sent on a secret mission by Senate Authority to investigate a recently discovered ruin that proved to be filled with what appeared to be walking dead. Taking his legion to the ruin Vergil found what he took to be fat old men exaggerating was doing the truth no justice. The walking corpses where in reality children of the night, it seemed the ruin was home to a coven.


Needless to say the Legion was decimated, a normal human stood no chance against vampires but Vergil ran deeper into the ruin with a few survivors hoping to find a hidden way out and report the danger to the Senate. Thankfully the vampires where too busy feasting on the legion to notice a couple of survivors. But instead of finding a other way out the few Romans only found a strange mirror about twice the size of a full grown man. In anger Vergil went to smash it with his gladuis but instead his sword went through the mirror without shattering it. Muttering a quick prayer to his mothers gods he decided to walk into the mirror. What he found on the other side was far from reassuring.

The ruin was gone, replaced by a twisted skyline and ripped earth. The screams of countless people being ripped apart floated on the air, tears and prayers echoed in his head. Vergil was nearly driven mad by the noise. But it paled in comparison to the sight before his eyes. A demon was the only way to describe it, cruel and harsh looking, it's hunger hanging heavy on the air. It's shape seemed shifting as if was unsure of it's true form. Despite the feeling of hopelessness Vergil drew his Gladuis and charged it, better to die fighting then cringing in fear.

But with an ease that was so terrifying in it's own way that Vergil was frozen in a paralyzing fear. As if in third person the Legion Commander saw the demon tear his throat open and eagerly lap up the blood. Felt life leave him, felt death's cold embrace and knew only darkness.


And then as if in the next moment he felt movement in his limbs although he was cold beyond cold. Opened his eyes and rushed a hand to his torn throat only to find no wound of any kind on the flesh. Getting up he looked around, an empty field near a farmhouse, a starlight sky and laughing voices. And suddenly a hunger that burned like fire in his veins was all he was aware of, and as if in a trance he walked to the farmhouse, kicked open the door and walked in. Striking the man who rushed at him with a force that sent the farmer fly back his neck twisted in a obscene manner. Only a cringing girl barely sixteen looked up at him, kneeling beside her Vergil drew her closer and sank new found fangs into her neck. And thus he fed for the first time, the blood rushing into his mouth warm and delicious, finer then any wine and more addictive. And for a few moments the cold was gone.


And thus Vergil was introduced to the dark trick worked upon him. In time he began to understand his urges, learned to control them. And discovered his gifts such as they where,glamor, strength,speed. And in time flight, even the ability to control his one bane, fire. Learned to conceal his kills and came to revel in his new form. He was now the hunter and a hunter is always hungry.


Soon he sought others driven by a need he couldn't understand. And from them he learned who and what he was now. And then he came to hunt not only mortals but other immortals driven by boredom. Hunting his brethren made the years more entertaining as the chase and kill was harder thus more rewarding. And the less vampires the more food there was for him.

Now living in the modern age this relic of a Dead Empire only cares for the hunt, even the feeding paled in comparison. Often he would kill without feeding merely to have the pleasure of showing the prey their weakness.