Richtnel

Player: Reese777

Character Full Name: Richtnel Bloodwing

Character In-Game Name: Richtnel

Nickname(s): Doc

Association(s): Silvermoon

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Warlock

Age: 303

Sex: Male

Hair: A silvery mane befitting an elder but nevertheless combed and smoothed.

Eyes: The typical green of all Sin'dorei.

Weight: 158 lbs

Height: 6'1

Alignment: Chaotic Evil (masquerades as Lawful Good)

Appearance

A fine tuxedo day in, day out. Always dusted, always shined to perfection. This is only because of his tendency to act like a nobleman. Obsession, even. Not tendency. A monocle, of course, a billowing cape, and polished shoes.

When "in the Doc mood," as it were, he dons a horrific mask and pulls out his surgeon kit, which consists of several lethal knives.

Other: He keeps a separate set of clothes for dark summoning purposes, and a staff for the same purpose.

Personality

At first look he is a respected surgeon who follows the law and tries to help out anyone he can. He tended to wounded heroes in the past but due to his aging he has lost the grace with a knife that would make him the best, though he is still capable.

His other side earns him the nickname "The Doc." It's that of a madman who'd sooner cut out a heart and eat it than follow the law (which, incidentally, he has done.) He cares nothing for others and views them as little more than experiments, considering it a personal shame if he hasn't murdered one person each night. However, he isn't a jittery, I smell your scent madman. He's on the poetic and Lecter side. Cunning. Collected. And with a cause. Also, when in this "mood," he refers to himself as It. Unknown as to why.

History

"My childhood? Dear boy, it's impolite for a gentlemen to talk about his origins. Besides, it is of no consequence. Though, as you are investigating a most grisly murder, I suppose it cannot hurt. I was born on my family's estate in the eastern regions of Quel'thalas, just beyond the Farstrider Retreat. My father..."

Richtnel was born to a small family in Silvermoon that made their living as tailors. At an early age he was forced to work for the family to pay for food and the like. He had little education. Nevertheless, he had the heart for it. Early on, he discovered he had an affinity for sewing and needles and dreamt of being a hot shot doctor. Child's fantasies, really.

His father was a retired Warlock, and taught him the dark arts. He had a decent family job and would have so for the rest of his life. So why should he go to school? The answer? They loved their son. So they attempted to enroll him in one. All it took was one look for laughter to commence. They didn't have to money to pay for half of the cost, and, in all honsety, they wouldn't have taken him if his family did.

"What? My file, you say? Now why would you need to bring a thing like that into this? Oh, oh I see. NO! No... you mustn't leave. None of that now. That's impolite. You are a guest in my household."

It cannot be said he took it well. He was never a good child. His parents just loved him too much to see him for what he really was.

"Those ignorant swines rejected me. They laughed at my poor, brainless parents and sent us off to doom in idiocy. And all they did was watch as it happened. They doted on me, gave me anything I asked for. But not this. They were now redundant. I had to find alternative methods..."

It is from that experience he became obsessed with becoming (or at least appearing as) a gentleman. One of them. But first, to learn the craft. Since he could not attend a regular school, it came down to rougher methods.

"Yes, sir. I first learned how to cure by killing. All it took was a sympathetic skinner and I learned the basics of anatomy. But not of HUMAN anatomy, now you see the dilemma. LOOK at me when I am TALKING to you, sir! You insult my hospitality."

The problem was, animals were all well and good... for science experiments. He needed to learn real anatomy. And since he had a new disrespect for the lower class, to the point of viewing them as little more than objects, he killed his skinning teacher for practice, learning a great many things about human anatomy. Maybe he was just born bad.

"Have you ever killed a man, inspector? The first kill is always one to savor. At first, repulsion for what you've done to a human being. He has a family, he's innocent, blah blah blah. Then, you look at your bloodied hands. And you know what you do next? You laugh. Complete. Utter. Elation. You love it. You love what you've done. And you want to do it again."

Now he's back in the game of Silvermoon, building a reputation quickly. He was a little rough around the edges in terms of surgery but very quickly perfected his skills. And with his "gentlemen's" background, he solidified his position. He then began experimenting with new types of surgeries whilst performing very important ones. But then he began to think, why did people have to die, anyway? The beginning of the end for a doctor. He began developing a theory, combining his skills as a surgeon and a warlock. What would happen if the organ donor were a demon? It could super expand the life expectancy rate to untold heights, maybe even bring about immortality. This could not possibly fail! Due to the fall of the Sunwell, more and more now Sin'Dorei were using demonic powers to sate their addiction. Demonology was becoming a legitimate practice rather than a frowned upon superstition.

This became his obsession. Soon enough his old sadist ways were back, and he began collecting test bodies in secret, summoning demons to kill, and when he didn't want to kill them, command them to cover his tracks and destroy evidence. He was building a theory, he was. A theory of immortality. A theory the scientific community would soon reject. Demons giving their organs to humans? Preposterous. That's no better than the demon hunters. How could he think something like that?

"Those FOOLS! They shunned my genius just as they had done before. They dispelled it as heresy and made me to be a laughingstock to the whole scientific community. But I'll show them. One day, men will look back and say that I, and I alone, gave birth to an age of immortality. Which brings us back to you, inspector. I can't have you waltzing about, now can I? That brain will have to go. Would you prefer Felguard or Doomguard?"

Recently, after committing many underground murders and attempted murders in both Silvermoon and even Dalaran, he was approached by a messenger who told him that a man, Gladstone, awaited dark specialists such as himself in Desolace. Intrigued, he made the venture there and was recruited into The Heretic Circus as a dark soul and recruiter, like the man who contacted him. He was charged with bringing adventurers to their cause, and so he performs this.