Post by judasxkiss on Aug 7, 2009 21:25:54 GMT -5
Character name: Archbishop Enrico Maxwell
Age: Late 20's to mid 30's. Estimate 25.
Class: Human
Physical description:
-Height: 5'9''
-Approx. weight: 160
-Facial characteristics: An unusual tic characterized by the repeated wincing of his left eye when extremely agitated.
-Hair: Silver Blue-Grey/Blonde(Silver Blue-Grey in the OVA/Blonde in the Manga); Usually worn in a long ponytail.
-Eyes: Violet/Cerulean Blue (Violet in the OVA/Blue in the manga)
- Usual clothing (Or clothing style):
Generally speaking, Enrico is shown adorning a sleeveless button-down clerical vest with a Roman collar; Accompanied by a white dress shirt, white gloves, slacks, polished black shoes, and sometimes a purple and gold embroidered stole. Curiously, he is never seen wearing either a bishop or an archbishop's formal vestments within the manga.
Picture:
Organization: Iscariot
Personality:
All villains have their modus operandi, and Maxwell is no exception to the rule. As Hellsing's antagonist, Enrico fits the profile of a haughty, self-serving lunatic whose position of power provides him with the means necessary to twist and manipulate those around him. An ambitious megalomaniac, he finds no fault with using people as pawns, choosing to operate under the belief that 'the end justifies the means'. In short, if their involvement does not afford him the advantage, then they are considered disposable. Rather than meddle in Iscariot affairs directly, he prefers to pull the strings from behind the curtains, letting others perform his nefarious deeds for him. These actions give others the false impression that he is a coward. I believe he does this intentionally, for what better way to hide the extent of your power than to let an enemy underestimate you? And while this façade of cowardice makes him appear harmless, the dear Archbishop possesses an intellect and a charm that are both exceptionally dangerous. This can explain why the Vatican support his ventures so fool-heartedly, for not even they realize the full magnitude of Maxwell's schemes. The deceitful little 'warthog' has them all wrapped around his little finger—or at least to the point where they turn a blind eye to how he abuses his position.
As a Catholic, Enrico's faith is absolute—zealous to the point where it even borders on psychosis. In the OVA, when the Major questions the sanity of God for letting an individual such as himself exist, Maxwell's calm composure slips to reveal blind fury. He doesn't take kindly to insults to his religion and is very intolerant of those with differing opinions regarding doctrine or biblical matters. In fact, he harbours an extreme animosity towards any one apart from the Catholic Church in general, regarding all non-Catholics to be damned in his eyes whether they believe in God or not. To him, all non-believers are heretics—worthless heathens that cannot be saved.
“Through Christ, all things are possible.”
His blind devotion to the Church and to God make him unable to see past his own pride. He is ruthless almost without exception, having a sanguine nature that is practically delusional. Violence for the sake of God's glory excites him, for instance. By his account, the deliverance of punishment to all who incite Iscariot's fury is divinity. It is arguable that this aspect of his personality stems from the pathological, though whether he is truly insane or not is never revealed. In the end, what we do know is that Enrico Maxwell is a man consumed by hate and pride, both of which contribute to his eventual downfall.
History:
From a very young age, dear Maxwell was abandoned at St. Ferdinand Luke's, an orphanage outside Rome where Father Anderson worked. He was cast aside because he was the illegitimate child of a mistress, unfit for society's expectations—an outcast. While the Priest tried to take the boy under his wing, Enrico became enraged and embittered by the cruelty of the world's indifference to his pain. He vowed to become someone so important that no one could ever look down upon him again.
Sample Role playing post:
Maxwell tapped his gloved fingers impatiently against the powder blue tablecloth, ice tinkling in an untouched glass next to his right hand. Late. His lip curled, his eye twitching irritably. He was a man of self-importance, and as such, he hated to be kept waiting; especially when there were certain matters to attend to of a delicate nature. He squared his shoulders, jaw slackening and then contracting as the vein in his forehead protruded out of annoyance. The Archbishop was not one to easily forgive such irresponsibility, given that his informant was supposed to appear roughly a half hour ago. Now, he was forced to endure the humiliation of being stood up, a circumstance that left him feeling unpleasant, at the very least.“Perhaps they were held up at the airport”, Renaldo suggested as he leaned over his charge's shoulder, earning nothing more than a grunt and a scowl from the younger male.
The Archbishop sighed, a small breath of air escaping his lips; he absentmindedly toyed with the golden cross that hung around his neck to pass the time, celestial blue hues sweeping the elegant room slowly. The soft clatter of china plates and the tinkle of crystal glasses could be discerned quite clearly from the restaurant's dinner crowd, the hand-carved maple wood in-lay on the walls and landscape paintings of the country serving as nothing more than a minor distraction. While the layout of the softly lit dining room was meant to be pleasing on the eyes, he found the décor to be shallow, if not completely mundane.
He pressed a fingertip to his temple in a contemplative fashion, pausing for the moment when his gaze latched onto a familiar figure sitting far from the other restaurant goers. His lips spread into a sinister smile, hues flashing with intensity. He snapped his fingers, leaning up to whisper something into his cohort's ear. His counterpart nodded, retracting his watchful eye for the moment.
“Well, well, well”, he purred as long strides brought him to stand before the Hellsing Matriarch herself, his Italian accent drummed down to a soft undertone. “Miss Hellsing . . . I wouldn't have expected to meet you in a place”, he spread his hands out slowly, “like this.”
Ashes, Ashes~
We All Fall Down.
Age: Late 20's to mid 30's. Estimate 25.
Class: Human
Physical description:
-Height: 5'9''
-Approx. weight: 160
-Facial characteristics: An unusual tic characterized by the repeated wincing of his left eye when extremely agitated.
-Hair: Silver Blue-Grey/Blonde(Silver Blue-Grey in the OVA/Blonde in the Manga); Usually worn in a long ponytail.
-Eyes: Violet/Cerulean Blue (Violet in the OVA/Blue in the manga)
- Usual clothing (Or clothing style):
Generally speaking, Enrico is shown adorning a sleeveless button-down clerical vest with a Roman collar; Accompanied by a white dress shirt, white gloves, slacks, polished black shoes, and sometimes a purple and gold embroidered stole. Curiously, he is never seen wearing either a bishop or an archbishop's formal vestments within the manga.
Picture:
Organization: Iscariot
Personality:
All villains have their modus operandi, and Maxwell is no exception to the rule. As Hellsing's antagonist, Enrico fits the profile of a haughty, self-serving lunatic whose position of power provides him with the means necessary to twist and manipulate those around him. An ambitious megalomaniac, he finds no fault with using people as pawns, choosing to operate under the belief that 'the end justifies the means'. In short, if their involvement does not afford him the advantage, then they are considered disposable. Rather than meddle in Iscariot affairs directly, he prefers to pull the strings from behind the curtains, letting others perform his nefarious deeds for him. These actions give others the false impression that he is a coward. I believe he does this intentionally, for what better way to hide the extent of your power than to let an enemy underestimate you? And while this façade of cowardice makes him appear harmless, the dear Archbishop possesses an intellect and a charm that are both exceptionally dangerous. This can explain why the Vatican support his ventures so fool-heartedly, for not even they realize the full magnitude of Maxwell's schemes. The deceitful little 'warthog' has them all wrapped around his little finger—or at least to the point where they turn a blind eye to how he abuses his position.
As a Catholic, Enrico's faith is absolute—zealous to the point where it even borders on psychosis. In the OVA, when the Major questions the sanity of God for letting an individual such as himself exist, Maxwell's calm composure slips to reveal blind fury. He doesn't take kindly to insults to his religion and is very intolerant of those with differing opinions regarding doctrine or biblical matters. In fact, he harbours an extreme animosity towards any one apart from the Catholic Church in general, regarding all non-Catholics to be damned in his eyes whether they believe in God or not. To him, all non-believers are heretics—worthless heathens that cannot be saved.
“Through Christ, all things are possible.”
His blind devotion to the Church and to God make him unable to see past his own pride. He is ruthless almost without exception, having a sanguine nature that is practically delusional. Violence for the sake of God's glory excites him, for instance. By his account, the deliverance of punishment to all who incite Iscariot's fury is divinity. It is arguable that this aspect of his personality stems from the pathological, though whether he is truly insane or not is never revealed. In the end, what we do know is that Enrico Maxwell is a man consumed by hate and pride, both of which contribute to his eventual downfall.
History:
From a very young age, dear Maxwell was abandoned at St. Ferdinand Luke's, an orphanage outside Rome where Father Anderson worked. He was cast aside because he was the illegitimate child of a mistress, unfit for society's expectations—an outcast. While the Priest tried to take the boy under his wing, Enrico became enraged and embittered by the cruelty of the world's indifference to his pain. He vowed to become someone so important that no one could ever look down upon him again.
Sample Role playing post:
Maxwell tapped his gloved fingers impatiently against the powder blue tablecloth, ice tinkling in an untouched glass next to his right hand. Late. His lip curled, his eye twitching irritably. He was a man of self-importance, and as such, he hated to be kept waiting; especially when there were certain matters to attend to of a delicate nature. He squared his shoulders, jaw slackening and then contracting as the vein in his forehead protruded out of annoyance. The Archbishop was not one to easily forgive such irresponsibility, given that his informant was supposed to appear roughly a half hour ago. Now, he was forced to endure the humiliation of being stood up, a circumstance that left him feeling unpleasant, at the very least.“Perhaps they were held up at the airport”, Renaldo suggested as he leaned over his charge's shoulder, earning nothing more than a grunt and a scowl from the younger male.
The Archbishop sighed, a small breath of air escaping his lips; he absentmindedly toyed with the golden cross that hung around his neck to pass the time, celestial blue hues sweeping the elegant room slowly. The soft clatter of china plates and the tinkle of crystal glasses could be discerned quite clearly from the restaurant's dinner crowd, the hand-carved maple wood in-lay on the walls and landscape paintings of the country serving as nothing more than a minor distraction. While the layout of the softly lit dining room was meant to be pleasing on the eyes, he found the décor to be shallow, if not completely mundane.
He pressed a fingertip to his temple in a contemplative fashion, pausing for the moment when his gaze latched onto a familiar figure sitting far from the other restaurant goers. His lips spread into a sinister smile, hues flashing with intensity. He snapped his fingers, leaning up to whisper something into his cohort's ear. His counterpart nodded, retracting his watchful eye for the moment.
“Well, well, well”, he purred as long strides brought him to stand before the Hellsing Matriarch herself, his Italian accent drummed down to a soft undertone. “Miss Hellsing . . . I wouldn't have expected to meet you in a place”, he spread his hands out slowly, “like this.”
We All Fall Down.