Post by thehessian on Feb 14, 2010 17:23:22 GMT -5
Hi, my name is Stormy and this is my First character. I found this site through an affiliation request. Something you should know about me is that i love you.
Canon: Sleepy Hollow - The Headless/Hessian horseman
Custom Title: he rides again
PHYSICAL
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Appearance: While not the most attractive of people, Heinrich has never been the least so, either. He is somewhat typical of a man of his age, with broad shoulders and a respectfully tall height. Hair once black now becoming feathery with a piercing gaze to make the blood run cold, there is little denying of a sense of intimidation in him, either. He has hands of a pianist, with long, thin fingers; practiced and firm with the sword that he uses to end his victims.
Height: 6'1"
Body: Tall and leaning toward decently built
Other distinguishing features: Expressionless eyes, pale skin,horse
Wardrobe: In average, unassuming attire, Heinrich is a figure that could be easily passed over in a crowd. His tastes are for darker clothing, blacks, grays, usually manifested in casual slacks and an occasional trenchcoat over a sweater or something of that nature when not working. As his nighttime persona of the Horseman, however, it makes a change. The colours fade from dull into utterly black as he dons the attire of a modified Hessian soldier, complete with a genuine sword and a pair of hand-held axes. A cape, tattered and worn, covers him for some of the cold; a rather deadly sight to see together.[/ul]
Play By: Ralph Fiennes
PERSONALITY
General personality: Driven, cunning, and utterly ruthless as a murderer, Heinrich is a far cry from his humanity, killing without mercy and taking the severed head for rituals of his own, to never be seen again. He is a man now borderline sociopath, with a lust for blood, a fear of God and a penchant for fright; a mind just as dark as the steed he rides on. This man wasn't always like this, of course - monsters are made, not born, so they say - for, once, he was a child like any other, that grew into a young man with ambitions, dreams, and goals just the same as the people you pass on the street. So, you may wonder, what changed? No one will probably ever be sure. It's merely an enigma of the human mind.
Publicly, Heinrich is collected and level as a person, polite to peers but wicked in temper should it arise. Nothing particularly unusual - just as he wishes to keep it. He is not a social person unless he feels he has to be, with customers or other people he meets alike, in a mark that most feel to be enigmatic or introverted. In reality, he truthfully doesn't, nor does he think he ever will again, care about these 'sheep', let alone what they think - should he have his way, they will all be without their skulls to process their mundane thoughts for much longer anyway.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: "Boo!"
Likes:
Dislikes:
Strengths: acting, swordsmanship, horseback riding, thorough, devoted, resourceful
Weaknesses: temperamental, vengeful, rarely trusts, deceitful, ruthless, obsessive
BACKGROUND
Family: Born an only child, his parents are Karl and Idna Luneberg, both deceased.
Date of Birth: October 13th
Education: High School
Occupation: War reenactor by hobby, otherwise working as a central park carriage driver.
Worst past experience: the unfortunate incident at home as result of
Best past experience: buying his horse, one of the few things of real value to him
Image:
Heinrich has been known to be seen as an unnerving individual to speak with, both from his utterly deadened stare and his tendency to look fixedly at people with it as they speak. The nightmareish image gained as the Horseman, on the other hand, has made many-a newspaper hit and chilled countless of police and civilians alike. After all; what sort of sick serial killer takes the heads from the bodies?
History: Born to a pair of German immigrants settled in New York City, Heinrich learned English as a second language, and religion as a first as it was forced harshly upon him for such the smallest things. One example would be a time that, as most young boys do, he killed a rodent. For so, he received three days worth of beatings and berating as he was told again and again that he would now no longer be able to be saved, how demonic a child he was. By the time of their death in an 'untimely' automobile accident at the time he reached age 15, he vowed never to step foot into a church as long as he lived, rejecting any and all religion from that point on when he deemed it 'safe'.
Heinrich came to discover reenacting when he aged 20, after some searching into his bloodlines that revealed Hessian blood. He, needlessly to say, found this quite fascinating, and from there, he began it, working odd jobs to support himself and his girlfriend of the time. It all seemed to be going alright - at least, that was until the 'bad day'. Yes, that's all it took; one overwhelming day. He had not only been fired, but had also found his girl in the arms of another - that's all it really took. Some might say something just snapped. It's safe to say, once he got his hands on the sword stored in the case in the corner, well, neither girl nor secret lover were ever uncovered again. It was to be the birth of the Horseman to come.
Tabloids were what would give him the name that became the whispering of local nightmare. The headless horseman; named for his gruesomely decapitated victims as well as the horse that he rides, evidenced by the large hoofprints in the soft dirt around the bodies. Some say he's something of myth, a legend by police used to spook people out of the darkness of the central park. After all, how realistic was that? A nutter riding through a city park beheading people? Didn't that seem illogical? There were no patterns to the killings, no set uniform time, no pattern in the victims. Unfortunately for them, it's not as much myth as they want to believe - the horseman rides, and he would ride for them.
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
These people knew nothing of where they were. These fools, these simple-minded creatures who laughed and chattered and looked about as though they had never seen anything like this place as the carriage trundled along the snake-like path around the park. They didn't know what the terror of this place could be, they had never seen the magnificence of deep ruby blood glittering in the moonlight upon the trees they were alongside, nor heard the stories of the bodies found amongst the lawns, stripped of much more than their dignity.
No, they were ignorant, tourists, seeing through the eyes of the revealing sun instead of the cold moon. Heinrich fancied that he could see even his horse's disgust as it pulled so passively the carriage on another route by the cursed day, that the creature wanted so to trample their bodies under her sturdy black hooves. All in time, all in time. Just as they would have their time in the daylight, the horseman would have his by the night's call. For now, it had to be met with sufferance. Smile and laugh just as they do; comment on such petty things as the weather, of nonexistant family and sights that mean nothing unless washed in blue twilight. There would come a time to ride again - and oh, he would.
Finally, the stopping checkpoint. Pulling lightly back on the leather rains with a quiet command, the black horse halted obediently, wheels to the carriage rattling to a stop. The woman asked for a photo - little surprise. Most of them did, as though the ride was a life-defining moment for them that they felt a need to keep. Pathetic, really.
She fished about in her purse and pulled out the device to hand to him, which he took with a feigned cheerfulness and a kind word that was too practiced to be thought about. Step one; turn the camera on. How he so hated these people. How little he cared for them, and how little they knew. Ignorant cockroaches. Step two; position the camera. He could see their smiling faces pressed together in the digital box on the device's face. For the briefest of moments, Heinrich envisioned the couple without them. That thought humored him even if only shortly. Step three; press the shutter. Perhaps he could arrange that. Yes; soon, he decided, it was time the horseman could ride again in the domain that was made to be his. Click.
Heinrich Luneberg
Middle Class
Middle Class
Canon: Sleepy Hollow - The Headless/Hessian horseman
Custom Title: he rides again
PHYSICAL
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Appearance: While not the most attractive of people, Heinrich has never been the least so, either. He is somewhat typical of a man of his age, with broad shoulders and a respectfully tall height. Hair once black now becoming feathery with a piercing gaze to make the blood run cold, there is little denying of a sense of intimidation in him, either. He has hands of a pianist, with long, thin fingers; practiced and firm with the sword that he uses to end his victims.
Height: 6'1"
Body: Tall and leaning toward decently built
Other distinguishing features: Expressionless eyes, pale skin,
Wardrobe: In average, unassuming attire, Heinrich is a figure that could be easily passed over in a crowd. His tastes are for darker clothing, blacks, grays, usually manifested in casual slacks and an occasional trenchcoat over a sweater or something of that nature when not working. As his nighttime persona of the Horseman, however, it makes a change. The colours fade from dull into utterly black as he dons the attire of a modified Hessian soldier, complete with a genuine sword and a pair of hand-held axes. A cape, tattered and worn, covers him for some of the cold; a rather deadly sight to see together.[/ul]
Play By: Ralph Fiennes
PERSONALITY
General personality: Driven, cunning, and utterly ruthless as a murderer, Heinrich is a far cry from his humanity, killing without mercy and taking the severed head for rituals of his own, to never be seen again. He is a man now borderline sociopath, with a lust for blood, a fear of God and a penchant for fright; a mind just as dark as the steed he rides on. This man wasn't always like this, of course - monsters are made, not born, so they say - for, once, he was a child like any other, that grew into a young man with ambitions, dreams, and goals just the same as the people you pass on the street. So, you may wonder, what changed? No one will probably ever be sure. It's merely an enigma of the human mind.
Publicly, Heinrich is collected and level as a person, polite to peers but wicked in temper should it arise. Nothing particularly unusual - just as he wishes to keep it. He is not a social person unless he feels he has to be, with customers or other people he meets alike, in a mark that most feel to be enigmatic or introverted. In reality, he truthfully doesn't, nor does he think he ever will again, care about these 'sheep', let alone what they think - should he have his way, they will all be without their skulls to process their mundane thoughts for much longer anyway.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: "Boo!"
Likes:
- The 'witching' hours
- Feeling in control
- History
- The scent of blood
- Sweet revenge
Dislikes:
- The logically-minded
- Today's technology
- Police of all kinds
- interruptions
- Religion
- Much of humanity
Strengths: acting, swordsmanship, horseback riding, thorough, devoted, resourceful
Weaknesses: temperamental, vengeful, rarely trusts, deceitful, ruthless, obsessive
BACKGROUND
Family: Born an only child, his parents are Karl and Idna Luneberg, both deceased.
Date of Birth: October 13th
Education: High School
Occupation: War reenactor by hobby, otherwise working as a central park carriage driver.
Worst past experience: the unfortunate incident at home as result of
Best past experience: buying his horse, one of the few things of real value to him
Image:
Heinrich has been known to be seen as an unnerving individual to speak with, both from his utterly deadened stare and his tendency to look fixedly at people with it as they speak. The nightmareish image gained as the Horseman, on the other hand, has made many-a newspaper hit and chilled countless of police and civilians alike. After all; what sort of sick serial killer takes the heads from the bodies?
History: Born to a pair of German immigrants settled in New York City, Heinrich learned English as a second language, and religion as a first as it was forced harshly upon him for such the smallest things. One example would be a time that, as most young boys do, he killed a rodent. For so, he received three days worth of beatings and berating as he was told again and again that he would now no longer be able to be saved, how demonic a child he was. By the time of their death in an 'untimely' automobile accident at the time he reached age 15, he vowed never to step foot into a church as long as he lived, rejecting any and all religion from that point on when he deemed it 'safe'.
Heinrich came to discover reenacting when he aged 20, after some searching into his bloodlines that revealed Hessian blood. He, needlessly to say, found this quite fascinating, and from there, he began it, working odd jobs to support himself and his girlfriend of the time. It all seemed to be going alright - at least, that was until the 'bad day'. Yes, that's all it took; one overwhelming day. He had not only been fired, but had also found his girl in the arms of another - that's all it really took. Some might say something just snapped. It's safe to say, once he got his hands on the sword stored in the case in the corner, well, neither girl nor secret lover were ever uncovered again. It was to be the birth of the Horseman to come.
Tabloids were what would give him the name that became the whispering of local nightmare. The headless horseman; named for his gruesomely decapitated victims as well as the horse that he rides, evidenced by the large hoofprints in the soft dirt around the bodies. Some say he's something of myth, a legend by police used to spook people out of the darkness of the central park. After all, how realistic was that? A nutter riding through a city park beheading people? Didn't that seem illogical? There were no patterns to the killings, no set uniform time, no pattern in the victims. Unfortunately for them, it's not as much myth as they want to believe - the horseman rides, and he would ride for them.
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
These people knew nothing of where they were. These fools, these simple-minded creatures who laughed and chattered and looked about as though they had never seen anything like this place as the carriage trundled along the snake-like path around the park. They didn't know what the terror of this place could be, they had never seen the magnificence of deep ruby blood glittering in the moonlight upon the trees they were alongside, nor heard the stories of the bodies found amongst the lawns, stripped of much more than their dignity.
No, they were ignorant, tourists, seeing through the eyes of the revealing sun instead of the cold moon. Heinrich fancied that he could see even his horse's disgust as it pulled so passively the carriage on another route by the cursed day, that the creature wanted so to trample their bodies under her sturdy black hooves. All in time, all in time. Just as they would have their time in the daylight, the horseman would have his by the night's call. For now, it had to be met with sufferance. Smile and laugh just as they do; comment on such petty things as the weather, of nonexistant family and sights that mean nothing unless washed in blue twilight. There would come a time to ride again - and oh, he would.
Finally, the stopping checkpoint. Pulling lightly back on the leather rains with a quiet command, the black horse halted obediently, wheels to the carriage rattling to a stop. The woman asked for a photo - little surprise. Most of them did, as though the ride was a life-defining moment for them that they felt a need to keep. Pathetic, really.
She fished about in her purse and pulled out the device to hand to him, which he took with a feigned cheerfulness and a kind word that was too practiced to be thought about. Step one; turn the camera on. How he so hated these people. How little he cared for them, and how little they knew. Ignorant cockroaches. Step two; position the camera. He could see their smiling faces pressed together in the digital box on the device's face. For the briefest of moments, Heinrich envisioned the couple without them. That thought humored him even if only shortly. Step three; press the shutter. Perhaps he could arrange that. Yes; soon, he decided, it was time the horseman could ride again in the domain that was made to be his. Click.
