R O L E

HIGH COUNCIL MEMBER

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N A M E

SEVERIN MALVEAUX

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N I C K N A M E

Sev, Rin, Raven

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A G E

300 (ish???)

(Question: Do they all have to be turned or can they be born as vampires too?)

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G E N D E R

MALE

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S E X U A L I T Y

BISEXUAL

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S P E C I E S

VAMPIRE

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K I N G D O M

VAROX

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A P P E A R A N C E

HENRY CAVILL

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POWERS/ABILITIES

[Let me know if any of this is too much]

- Invisibility - He can meld into shadows, travel through them, or extend them like tendrils to strangle, pierce, or obscure vision. In total darkness, he becomes untouchable, existing as a sentient void until he chooses to reappear.

- Superhuman Strength - Can crush bones with ease, lift heavy objects, and tear through steel.

- Blinding Speed - Moves faster than the eye can track, appearing as a blur.

- Nightmare Presence - Can extend shadows into monstrous, shifting shapes that instill fear and hallucinations in the weak-willed.

- Compulsion - Can force weaker minds (humans) to obey him with a single word.

- The Kiss of Death - A bite that doesn't kill but enslaves, making the victim hopelessly devoted to him.

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P E R S O N AL I T Y

[I'm assuming they can be born as a vampire here, but if not, I can change]

Severin Malveaux is the kind of man who never seems in a hurry-because he never needs to be. He leans against walls, settles into the darkest corners of the room, watching everything unfold with a lazy smirk, like a king surveying his court of fools. He carries himself with an air of quiet amusement, as if he's perpetually entertained by some private joke no one else is in on. And maybe he is. He doesn't speak unless he finds the conversation worth his time, but when he does, his words are smooth, deliberate, and always laced with meaning. He loves the slow build, the careful push-and-pull of manipulation, the moment when someone realizes too late that they've been playing right into his hands. It's never about brute force-he prefers to break people from the inside out, unraveling their confidence thread by thread until they don't even realize who they belong to anymore.

Severin can lie with the ease of breathing, twisting truths so effortlessly that even the most skeptical minds find themselves second-guessing. He plays people against each other like a conductor leading an orchestra, watching the chaos unfold with a satisfied smirk. Sarcasm is his favorite weapon, and cruelty his favorite pastime. He teases, taunts, and pushes just enough to get under someone's skin-never outright aggression, just the kind of slow, grating needling that makes people question themselves. And if they snap? Even better. He thrives in disorder, not the mindless, reckless kind, but the carefully constructed type, where every broken alliance, every unraveling secret, is another piece in his grand design. He loves watching things fall apart exactly as planned.

Yet, for all his cruelty, Severin isn't entirely heartless-just highly selective about where he places his loyalty. He has a twisted sense of honor, one built on his own warped morality rather than traditional ethics. He keeps his word when he chooses to give it, and while he thrives on ruining people, he doesn't destroy for no reason. If someone genuinely earns his respect, he might even be... tolerable. Maybe even protective, in his own sharp-edged way. He doesn't do kindness, but he understands debt and obligation-if someone proves useful or entertaining enough, he won't betray them without reason. And though he'd never admit it, he harbors a strange soft spot for the truly broken and lost souls-not out of pity, but because he sees himself in them. After all, even a monster enjoys the company of other monsters.

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B A C K G R O U N D

Severin Malveaux was born into power-the kind of power that makes people bow their heads when you walk into a room. His father, Lucien Malveaux, was a high-ranking council member, a man who didn't just hold authority-he was authority. Cold, calculating, and dangerously intelligent, he ruled through fear and strategy, and he expected his son to follow in his footsteps. From the moment Severin could speak, he was taught that the world wasn't about right or wrong-it was about who controlled the board and who got played.

But power always comes with enemies. And in the end, Lucien Malveaux didn't die in battle, nor was he outmaneuvered by some brilliant rival. No-he was murdered. Killed in his own home, not by an assassin or a political opponent, but by someone far beneath him-a werewolf. And the worst part? The bastard was his mother's secret lover. A creature Lucien wouldn't have even considered a real threat, let alone an equal. It wasn't just murder; it was betrayal in its ugliest form. And Severin? He was still young when it happened-young enough that no one saw him as a real player in the aftermath. But he remembers. Every detail. Every name.

His mother? As far as he's concerned, she's just as guilty as the werewolf who killed his father. Whether she was involved in the plan or just a lovesick fool who let emotions cloud her judgment, Severin never cared to find out. Some say she vanished after Lucien's death. Others say she didn't get the chance to. Whatever happened, he doesn't speak of her. He doesn't acknowledge her existence. In his mind, she made her choice, and he erased her accordingly.

But there's one more piece to this story. The werewolf didn't act alone. Somewhere in the background, a fae was pulling the strings. Severin doesn't know exactly what their role was, but he knows they were involved. Maybe they used their magic to make sure Lucien never saw the attack coming. Maybe they twisted minds, warped reality just enough to ensure the kill was clean. Or maybe they just wanted to see a powerful vampire fall for their own twisted amusement. That's the thing about fae-you can never be sure why they do what they do. And that? That pisses Severin off more than anything.

Unlike most vampires, Severin doesn't wear his grudges on his sleeve. He's patient. He waits. He doesn't lash out in blind hatred-he keeps his cards close to his chest, hides his true feelings beneath that smirking, lazy demeanor of his. But make no mistake-he hasn't forgotten a damn thing. He's spent years working his way up, taking his father's place on the council, securing his own influence. He's not just another aristocratic bloodsucker-he's a player in the game now, and he knows exactly how to make people dance to his tune.

One day, he'll find the fae who helped take down his father. One day, he'll make sure the werewolves understand just how big of a mistake they made. But for now? He plays the long game. Power first. Revenge later.

And when the time comes, he'll make sure it hurts.

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O T H E R

- A thin, barely visible scar across his throat. It's old, almost healed completely, but in the right light, it's still there-a reminder that someone once got too close. He doesn't talk about it, and if anyone notices, he'll give a different story every time.

- Just below his ribs, a scar that never quite healed perfectly. This one? This one's from platinum. It's a reminder that even the most powerful can bleed, and Severin despises that fact.

- Severin's eagle, Varus, is his eyes in the sky. Silent, sharp, and unnervingly intelligent, it watches, delivers messages, and strikes when needed. Some say it's not just a bird, but something more.

- His horse, Acheron, is a towering, jet-black beast. Fast, silent, and fiercely loyal, it allows no rider but Severin. Those who try end up on the ground-if they're lucky.