Atticus (Gutenberg)

[Atticus]

The Basics:

Name: Atticus (Atlas) Rhodes
IGN: Gutenberg
Play-By: Clement Chabernaud

Sex: Male

Eyes: Dark blue
Hair: Dirty blond
Height: 6’1
Build: Slender

Year of Birth: 860AD - Exact date unknown but he believes it was in May.
Year of Turning: 881AD – Again, exact date forgotten but sometime in the Autumn sounds right.

Style:

Hair: Usually starts off the day as passably tidy, or at the very least combed, but gets progressively more disheveled through out the day

Clothing: Dresses in a very vintage style as he hasn’t bothered to update his wardrobe in a century though he will replace pieces as needed with a similar style. Three piece suits are his go-to but his pants are always nearly wrinkled as he sits in his chair tailor style/fashion.

Personality:

MBTI: INTJ-A - Assertive Architect", is a personality type that values rationality, organization, and confidence. INTJ-As are known for being strategic thinkers who are comfortable around authority figures and tend to be more self-assured than other personality types.

Social Skills: He is far more comfortable around books than people, having spent the better part of his 1200 year life having had very little involvement in the affairs of people or general. His mannerisms are awkward at best, unintentionally rude at worst. He never intends to be rude or offensive, he just isn’t aware of how his body language and tone can be interpreted by others. He can accidentally make a person feel like he is dismissing what they are going through when he is trying to show he understanding because he mentions a similar or relatable experience he has had. They interpret that he is making it about himself while he is trying to say that he understands and can have empathy. Communication is by far his weakest skill.

Emotional State: Despite what his previous assistants have thought about him, he does in fact have emotions. He has just never understood why such things matter or should be the deciding factor in a decision. And it baffles the hell out of him when his own emotions bubble up to the surface. Though it is very rare and brief he has bursts of uncontrollable emotions. Instead of dealing with them while they are drops they build up until the dam bursts. If he feels the dam is cracking he tries to put himself in a situation where he is alone until he can compose himself. If he were to be around others should this happen he would be mortified and most likely become reclusive for days.

Sexuality: Asexual/Homoromantic – He has never developed an intimate relationship with anyone, not even his wife. And though He currently wouldn’t think so, I know there is a total romantic sweetheart under all those dusty pages somewhere. Sex is still probably beyond him though.

Likes:	Dislikes:
Books	Large groups
The Internet	The taste of blood (despite needing it)
The scent of lemon	Sage/most spices
Hot showers	Being in the rain/wind
Dark/muted colors	Microfiber anything
Classical/Instrumental music	Loud sounds

[Atticus]

History:

Born in 880AD as the youngest son to Rhodri Mawr (Rhodri ap Merfyn) and Angharad ferch Meurig, Tudwal ap Rhodri had little to no expectation or even desire for his father’s crown or the problems that would come with it. His elder brothers saw this and left him out of their near constant squabbles which proved advantages as those squabbles turned into battles after the death of their father. Tudwal was content to be left to handle the accounting, record maintenance, and various other administrative tasks that would have normally been to some courtier or servant. He grew up learning the basics of swordsmanship and fighting as expected of any prince but he took those studies less seriously than he did of other topics like history and math. This is probably why he wasn’t some great hero in 881 during The Battle of the Conwy when Mercia invaded yet again. This battle wasn’t his brothers’ land feuds, it was his country, his home, under attack so of course he joined the other men. And while this battle thoroughly repelled the Mercians and helped establish (in part with other battles) the Merfynion dynasty.

No, he wasn’t some great hero during this battle but he did his bit and was wounded for his efforts. He could have been a great warrior (He couldn’t) if he hadn’t taken that arrow to the knee. No really, that’s what happened. Skyrim owes him money I’m sure. He was crawling away from the clashing of swords when a man, he still isn’t sure what side this person was on or if he had just been an opportunistic vulture, recognized who he was and grabbed him and dragged him off the battle field. Once past the line of trees and out of sight of the others the man ran at a nauseating speed to a little abandoned house. It was there the vampire turned him. He spent days going thought the change all the while having to listen to the creature that did this to him go on and on about what a powerful tool he would be for taking over this Welsh crown during the brief periods he was conscious. It was very annoying. On the third day his transformation was complete but he was weak. His captor had the perfect solution for that. He was gone only minutes before he returned with an unconscious man, and he could tell he was a retreating Mercian solider from the colors he wore. The vampire showed him how to feed and Tudwal got to it, draining him to the last drop he could pull from the now corpse.

The man then went over what it meant to be a vampire. Avoid the sun it will burn you, drink from humans, avoid letting humans know what he was because they could rally together and kill him, yada yada yada. It felt like the man wouldn’t shut up all the while Tudwal was praying for the chance to just go back home and return to his books, scrolls, and life. Finally the vampire switched back to talking about his plans for this area of Wales and that snapped Tudwal out of his thoughts. Nobody was taking over his father’s land except his brothers. If they killed each other in the process that was their business but damn anyone that thought they were going to step in and do it. So he spent the last few hours of darkness hatching his plan, which he thought would kill him too but that was acceptable. He didn’t really want to live like this anyways. Once the sun started peaking over the Eastern horizon the vampire pulled closed the thick makeshift curtains he had apparently fashioned over the boarded up windows. This guy was serious about the sun thing, huh? Good. He laid down as instructed and waited hours to make sure the monster was truly asleep. Oh sleep sounded so good to him though and it kept calling but he avoided it luring siren song. He finally decided the time was right and quietly made his move. Standing, he grabbed the straw filled mat and ripped it open, scattering the contents all around the room and over his sleeping sire. He then found a flint and steel pouch while looking for a rock to strike against the dead human’s chain mail. Even better. Seconds after sticking the flint the house was engulfed in flames. Despite knowing the sun would burn him just as quick he bolted outside and he found a shaded spot under tree cover. And his sire started screaming. Apparently though when vampires burn not even their bones are left behind because after clinging to the shade all day while watching the fire slowly burn out, long after the screaming stopped, all that was left in the ash were the bones of the human he had consumed. Content, Tudwal set for home come night fall.

Once back to his family’s estate he tried walking in as if nothing had happened. He hadn’t realized his shirt was covered in blood, nor apparently how much time had passed. He walked in to his brothers planning is funeral of all things and stood looking at him like they had just seen a ghost. Well, kinda? Cadell, his second eldest brother and future king crossed the room to embrace him. As he approached Tudwal could smell the blood in his brother’s veins and he backed up. Well, that’s what he meant to do at least. In actuality he moved with speed he had not intended and the force cracked the door when his back slammed into it. His brothers and the courtiers in the room stood frozen in shock and confusion. Tudwal instantly started apologizing, tripping over his words while his brothers looked on and the room fell silent as Tudwal stood there, his head hanging in shame as he tried to think of an explanation.. One of the courtiers finally broke the silence by pointing and yelling. “Lord Tudwal has been replaced with a demon!”. Tudwal began to protest the accusation but then he remember the Mercian solider he hand killed, and how, and what he wanted to to do to his brother just moments ago and his mouth fell closed. His brothers looked between him and the courier before one of them finally spoke. “A demon wouldn’t feel guilty over breaking anything, let alone a door. Just look at him.” Anarawd said, and it was true. Tudwal was the picture of guilt and remorse, but not necessarily over the door. He was starting to realize that his life as he knew and loved was over. He couldn’t remain around his brothers as the blood in their veins called to him as sweet butter cake used to. “I should go.” He said solemnly as he turned. “Wait, lets figure this out. We have no quarrel with you, Tudwal” Again Anarawd spoke and the others murmured their agreement. “What has happened to you, brother?” Tudwal didn’t notice who asked that question. Nor the fact that this was the time first time his brothers, now kings in their own right to their own land, weren’t arguing about one thing or another for the first time in memory. “I’m… not sure”, He confessed.”I was shot on the battlefield, and then I woke up with this horrid man talking about how he was going to use Gwynedd. So I killed him.” He left it at that, still unsure what actually happened to him or if it was permanent. “But something happened, and I am different. I know that much. And I know now I must leave. I am not safe around you, brothers. And for once, its not my safety I question.” He let out a hallow chuckle. The bothers exchanged glances. “Give us until morning, we will come up with something” Tudwal nodded at that and turned and gently opened door, trying not to damage it further. As he left one of his brothers cleared the table of all the funeral plans and they set about what to do with their now even weirder brother And how to keep him as a non threat to them.

Meanwhile Tudwal made for his rooms and found them to be exactly as he had left them. Though his brothers had him boxed him up before he walked through the door they hadn’t made it as far as re-purposing his little sanctuary yet. But as he looked around he seen all the things he didn’t want to leave behind. So he set about trying to find someone that could help him locate some spare crates. But the halls were suspiciously empty. The one maid that he had found fled when he started to approach her. He sighed. His brothers must have warned the staff to stay clear of him till they knew more about how dangerous he was or wasn’t. Which, he couldn’t fault them for. That was the logical thing to do. It was better for everybody to play it safe. It what he would do if he was on the other side of this. But that didn’t solve the problem of crates. Which he didn’t have the slightest clue where they were stored. So he figured he would come up with a solution in his room and went back to see what he could manage. There were a few small boxes that he filled rather quickly, but within an hour there was a knock at the door. A very pale man that he did not recognize stood there looking like he was debating the merits of fleeing. “My Lord, I have been sent to see if there is anything you need”. His accent was funny and his Welsh was atrocious. This was a Mercian prisoner from the battle. They sent someone that wouldn’t be missed should Tudwal prove unstable. Again, logical. Sometimes he questioned the intelligence of his brothers but so far they were proving themselves promising rulers. Maybe Wales would survive yet. That thought brought a rare smile to his lips. “Crates. I need several crates large enough for books and other things, and a few more smaller ones for other smaller items” The man nodded and scurried away to locate the items, leaving Tudwal to his gathering. By morning there was a stack of tidy crates near the door, the blankets from the bed securing the window from any light, and a dead and drained Mercian hidden under for whoever cleared the room later to find. He hadn’t meant to do that, of course. But the man had cut his arm on a crate and the minor wound proved fatal as his temporary master had not learned how to control his newfound cravings.

His brothers found him sleeping, and decided he needed the rest. God only knew what he had gone though for the past several days, and didn’t bother him, and didn’t notice the lack of Mercian company in the room. So they waited until he rose in the evening, and then went over the plan they had spent the previous night discussing. Tudwal would be given a sizable piece of land. Not large enough to make him a king but he would be a landlord over enough churches, monasteries, and lands that the rent and earning would keep any man content. Tudwal didn’t really care about the money so much. Sure, money was practical but he didn’t have a use for more than what was required. He was agreeable to the idea because the religious houses homed boxes and texts that he hadn’t read yet. And then Cadell couldn’t control his grin at what he personally thought was the best part yet. They had arranged his marriage to a woman name Helen. Her father was Aleth the ruler of Dyfed and this union would strengthen trade and peace between all the involved kingdoms. This part was far less interesting to Tudwal. What use would he have of a wife, and wouldn’t a war start if he accidentally harmed the woman. He decided then and there that he wouldn’t bother the woman beyond the expected public gatherings. Maps were pulled out and the area of land was outlined. It would take days to get there on horse back, a couple more with the luggage. “Its a long journey, I think I will set off tonight. I don’t want to cause issues here. Someone can follow with my things when its convenient.” The bothers looked between themselves and none of them could think of a reason to prevent that. “At least give us an hour to write up the official deed and get it stamped, and then you can leave as you wish, though I do hope you understand the terms of this arrangement” Cadell stated, staring at Tudwal with and expectant look. “I do. And I can assure you, I mean no trouble for any of you, or anybody else. I just want to figure out whats happened to me, if it can be corrected, and to do as little harm possible in the process.” The brothers nodded among themselves, very pleased with that answer. Tudwal turned to head back to his rooms to grab a leather bag of clothes he had packed earlier before he turned back to face his brother’s briefly. “Oh, and please either hire proper accountants or have your books sent to me. You couldn’t balance your coffers if the Lord our God came and demanded to know your sums himself” And off he went to grab his bag, a roar of laughter echoing behind him.

An hour later a scroll containing his new deed was handed to him as he mounted his horse. His brothers had gathered once again in peace to see him off and wish him well with his new lands and soon to be new bride. Within the hour he couldn’t stand how slow the horse was. He knew he could go faster, just not quite sure how fast, and he wanted to get there before sun up. Hopping off and releasing the horse to either find its way home or make a new one for itself he started running with his bag of clothes and the deed on his back and the map in his hand. The landscape blurred past him and he found himself hurdling over the odd sheep or fence as he approached it. And it was exhilarating. He had never enjoyed running before but this felt more like flying and within the hour he noticed geographical landmarks that had been marked as the edge of his new lands. It only took him a few more minutes to locate the main estate. This journey should have taken 4 days of hard riding, 5 if one meant to sleep more than a few hours a night. But here he was just hours after leading Cadell’s estate.