Type: Leucetius Bloodline
Weight: 100 Kilos
Current occupation: Cat burglar, Thief
Wearing a ragged beard and typically tattered clothing leaves Fallon, at best, regarded as a homeless person or in poverty. An appearance that he has spent the past decade mastering the effective use of.
The black outer rim of his iris retreats through light, ashy blue with silver streaks, which makes his eyes appear as though one were peering into a dimly lit bottomless pit.
His physical appearance beneath his clothing is unknown. His face and hands are all that are ever exposed to view.
Like the others of his bloodline, Fallon is capable of using aural energies to change the flow of kinetic force, or to create kinetic force where none had been before. He has learned how to produce the aural shield, but has not mastered it's use. As a result, he is drained of energy to the point of collapse and unconsciousness upon an attempt to use it.
Unlike other vampires, Fallon abhors the natural ability to manipulate and use magicks. His refusal to involve himself with magicks is well known.
Martial arts, weapon useage and gun training are all high profile skills that Fallon possesses.
Very acrobatic, even for a vampire. His human life was spent living in the streets, committing thefts and running for his life. His endurance, dexterity and vitality increased by immortality, he is almost impossible to catch when on the run, and those who have stories to tell of "He Who Cheats the Headsman", and yet do not know his real name, regard capturing him is like catching smoke in one's hand.
Lockpicking, safe cracking and con arts are his specialties.
Fallon represents something of a conundrum. His life began as a begger. Homeless, unwanted and frequently hated even. Though throughout his existence he's had several opportunities to gain higher status in the world, he intentionally remains appearing homeless and filthy.
411 years ago, Fallon was at church every day. Not for communion, but to beg for pittance. But when placed among a crowd of filthy women and children, the filthy man is seldom selected to help. When confronted with the need to eat, he rioted against his station as a lesser being and began stealing what he wanted and needed from nobility. Unfortunately, he gained immediate infamy as his first two thefts required him to kill the nobles whom he stole from in order to escape. With a price on his head, he attempted to flee from the country, committing a string of highway robberies and estate break-ins as he did so. A few miles from sweet freedom, he was trapped on a trail through the hills and was taken, barely alive, back to face punishment for his crimes. None of the stolen jewelry or gold was recovered, as he had none on him when caught.
After being sentenced to be beheaded, he sat his last night alive in his cell, staring up at and chuckling to the almost full moon of the rage and frustration his captors burned with this night, a small fortune missing and never to be found. As he sat awaiting the coming day, laughing at the fact that he was rapping upon the door of his own death, he heard a whisper that came from nowhere, and yet everywhere.
"You bellow much laughter for a man about to die. Do tell me, whatever is the joke?"
To be continued...in journals