Cresimir Engelweiss XIV [Approved 3-3; Hazard C]

○ Name: Cresimir Valmanway Engelweiss XIV (Born Paxton James) ○ Alias': Has too many to count. ○ Age: 252 ○ Gender: Male ○ Race: Sueki ○ Affiliation: King of the Nightmare Bloodline ○ Alignment: Chaotic Evil ○ Marital Status: Single. ○ Nationality: American. ○ Sexual Orientation: Unclear. ○ Height: 5' 10" ○ Weight: 140lb ○ Hair Colour: Blonde ○ Eye Colour: Red

It would be exceptionally hard to properly analyze this man, for Cresimir's psychological state cannot possibly be described as anything resembling stable enough for an entirely consistent analysis thereof. However, what few consistencies might be established will be laid out here. What must be understood first and foremost is that, while all Sueki certainly see humans as prey, and a race beneath them, this is elevated to a level not only of outright disgust, but what appears to be a genuine hatred on Cresimir's behalf. He is quite adamant that the nature of humanity and mortality means that one cannot possibly understand the depths of horror within the world, and that only through immortality or death is it possible to realize the sheer existential nightmare that is reality on the whole. Despite this, it should be noted that even humans who do share his worldview are wholly dismissed by Cresimir, so it is not entirely clear whether or not his hatred of them stems from this supposed lack of understanding, or if the two are separate beliefs he holds toward them.

Cresimir also believes, very firmly, that all emotions which are not fear simply exist as a manner of shutting out the mind's natural predilection toward said fears. In his belief, fear is the natural state of the mind, for in a world so wholly filled by dangers of unspeakable degree, when the world is wholly liable to be annihilated by cosmic forces one can scarcely even comprehend in their scale, what else could one possibly feel but fear?

It is this very fear that Cresimir relishes in, not simply out of some sadistic pleasure when others experience it, but in his own grip on it. Fear, as he sees it, is very much to be mastered if one is to ever become strong, but mastery of fear in his ideology does not come from dominating it and pushing it to the side. One can only master something by being completely immersed in it, by knowing it so totally that it is second nature. As such, Cresimir lives in constant fear. He is paranoid to a degree which could never possibly be called healthy, but masks this with more mundane fears, for to live in a state of absolute horror would only prevent him from spreading this gospel of terror to others. Such is, he believes, his truest calling in the world.

What is universally true about Cresimir, however, is that he believes quite firmly that the world's hierarchy is determined only by strength. The strong rule, the weak live only to be used by the strong. That is the natural order, the only way in which Cresimir's mind is capable of viewing things. Fear is the apex predator of this world, and to instill fear in others is the true meaning of power. Nothing else can matter in this world.


Many years ago, a young man named Paxton was born to two very loving parents in America. His life might well have been entirely happy, for his family was by all accounts wealthy. But Paxton was, if nothing else, an awkward sort of fellow. He was bright, at least relative to the average person, and he was by no means out and out socially inept. He simply existed in an uncomfortable limbo, never quite interacting well with others and seemingly always the butt of the joke. He did not mind it, at least not at first, but as the years carried on it began to rather genuinely wear on him. Through all of his schooling, it did not stop, and when he graduated from college he left to see the world. He told his family that he wished to get a bit more street smart, that he wanted to find himself.

He left first for South America, due in no small part simply to its proximity. He had been told it was a lovely part of the world, yet when he arrived it seemed to be overwhelmingly... oppressive, almost in its dreariness, in the almost primal sense that the wilderness around the cities was wholly unforgiving. Still, he was adamant that he would see this thing through, and so he planned a hike through the mountains, his journey carefully mapped and scheduled so that he would not need a guide. Young Paxton was, however, naive, for he had no concept of the wilderness within these lands. What he expected to be paths could hardly even be called a dirt road, and he became lost rather quickly. He was not worried, at least not at first, but it was as night came to pass that he began to understand the trouble he would face.

Paxton did not suffer much in the way of physical pain that night. What he suffered was psychological, a mental affliction which one might not fully be able to describe in mere words. The jungles of South America are a mysterious place, one so hostile that even those native to it know fully the horrors of nightfall when all alone within the wilderness. It is said that to become lost in these jungles inevitably afflicts one with a form of madness, drives one to become far from who they are as a person, for the dark of the night, and the presence of uncountable creatures which are wholly hostile to you, is enough to push any normal man far beyond the bounds of what might be considered a healthy mental state.

It is impossible to say exactly what the young man experienced that night, but what is certain is that he did not return to civilization for several days. When he finally came once more through the town's gates, he carried nothing with him, his clothing ragged and his gaze nothing short of a thousand yard stare. He had witnessed, according to the locals, the spirits of the jungle, and he was lucky even to be alive. Had they known his future, it may well have been better to say he would have been lucky to die in that jungle.

Yet, he was still filled with some faint determination to see his journey through. Perhaps it was instead that he simply feared the idea of returning home so soon, without having accomplished what it was that he had promised to his family. Whatever his reason was, it is impossible to know, for the man now called Cresimir does not speak of his life as a human to anyone. All that is known is that, within a month, Paxton had arrived in Africa, and gone deep into the wilderness for safari. He brought with him guides this time, for he had at least learned his lessons in South America. But that would not help him this time.

It is difficult to fully describe the horrors of the African wilderness. People speak of the things in the forest that make men mad, but none can ever fully, or even vaguely, for that matter, describe them. But these very beasts do just that- they make men mad, and nothing more. They do not kill them. What kills these men, rather, is their own insanity, or that of others. So it was, upon witnessing one of these creatures, that Paxton and his guides lost their minds one night. Overcome with primal madness, the human mind unable to fathom what it was they had seen, they found themselves fighting for what they perceived as survival, and in the end, whether through blind luck or some sort of grit, Paxton was the lone survivor. But his mind did not repair itself simply by manner of having defeated his assailants. The visions of horror put upon him were not so simple. Instead, knowing fully that the creature he feared was still within the woods, he hung up the bodies of the men who had accompanied him, and laid in wait. He would fight these creatures as well, his experience in South America now compounding with this hell.

In truth, the creature which had so horrified him was but one of the Sueki of the House of Nightmares. The simplest method of hunting their prey was to horrify them into killing one another, and it was quite amusing, no less. Of course, this often led to many of their lesser members becoming complacent in their power, for they relied on these vision perhaps a bit too much. The Sueki who had instilled these visions upon Paxton came to collect his feast, but did not take time to consider where his last quarry had gone. As he went to collect the prey that had been strung up for him, Paxton struck from behind, a bloodied and violent assault that could scarcely be called human. In a right state of mind, he might surely have lost, but this was no longer a man. In this state, he was but one of the jungle's creatures, and he would prove his dominance once and for all over this beast that had brought him horror.

Paxton killed the Sueki that night, and in his animalistic fury consumed a great deal of his body. It was not only for sustenance, but as a primitive assertion of his superiority. In doing so, the Sueki blood was nevertheless introduced into his body, and upon the completion of this feast, he fell into a brief coma. When he awoke, he craved only blood; thankfully, it was in rather plentiful supply in these circumstances.

Typically speaking, to become a Sueki one lives among their bloodline, and is given their blood to ease into this process. But the man who had once been called Paxton was not one who had been invited into the fold. Nor, for that matter, was he one who would accept the invitation, on account of his annihilated psyche. Instead, he simply hunted within the jungle, laying in wait for more of these beasts that he did not understand, and killing them from the forest floor each and every time. Every creature that came before him was consumed, be it sueki or simple mundane animal. Each time he fed, he grew stronger, his stolen Sueki blood becoming further and further condensed.

Days became months. Months became years. Though the Sueki of the Nightmare bloodline now did their best to find this creature which had become a threat to them, their every attempt to hunt him only made him all the stronger. He could not be called human any longer; no, he was surely every bit as much a Sueki as they. Out of nothing more than concern for the whole of the bloodline's safety, its very Queen went forth herself to finally put down this rabid beast once and for all. It is unknown what she showed this creature upon confronting him, for she is unable to tell the tale. But she did not return for many weeks, and as the people of the Nightmare bloodline began to fear for her life, she returned. Not of her own accord, necessarily, but rather dragged into the home court of the Nightmare bloodline by the man who had slain her people. Her body was all but ruined, limbs shattered or simply torn away, and she was perhaps an inch from death. But to consume the body of a Queen had provided this man with the final push to become something above mere beast. Her noble blood, the memories and the power which had come with it, had combined with his animalistic madness, and he greeted the horrified onlookers with a laugh, loud and quite decidedly unhinged. He grinned widely to them all, and raised both of his arms as he announced to them all:



Shattered Memories: Cresimir's mind is absolutely, and irreparably, shattered. He is insane through and through, and the nightmares that he commands have permeated his mind so thoroughly that it would be impossible to ever separate the two at this point. This makes interfacing with his mind nearly impossible for anyone but the most absolutely iron-willed, for to even try and connect to this man's thoughts is to fully attach oneself to a level of abstract fear well beyond mortal possibility.

Simply put, it is not technically difficult by any stretch to try and connect to Cresimir through any sort of technique which reads thoughts or emotions. However, doing so is immediately met with an uncontrollable wave of the most primal sort of fear, to such a degree that those only with Willpower of Master or Grandmaster are capable of entirely tolerating its horrors and keeping control of their instinct to fight or flee. Even then, while they are not genuinely physically impacted by these degrees of fear, they still very much are faced with nightmares that adapt to their personal mental state.

Furthermore, attempting to actively control Cresimir's mental state in any capacity is, functionally speaking, an exercise in futility. What still can be said to exist of his psyche is so fragmented and ever-changing, to say nothing of so completely saturated by neverending horror, that one could not begin to properly influence him without having such a degree of control as to completely and totally alter his mind's most basic functionality. Only such a total control of mental faculties would be enough to, even briefly, influence his thoughts, and even then would likely require interfacing with those very same thoughts on such a level as to create a double-edged sword of the highest caliber.

Mountain King: While the nature of the Sueki inherently provides many of them a more drastically enhanced physicality than a normal human, Cresimir's time in becoming a Sueki was marked by nothing but the constant hunting of other Sueki, and in that time his strength, endurance, and overall bodily capabilities became quite adept. Comparing Cresimir to even an above average Sueki would be akin to comparing an alpha lion to the strongest of human men. He is unilaterally dominant in physical traits over the vast majority of creatures, and he believes that this physical strength is every bit as crucial as his Bloodline powers in order to retain his authority. If one could defeat him, then he would be nothing at all.

"The Things in the Forest Which Make Men Mad": While Cresimir relishes in fear in all its forms, and can certainly evoke absolute terror in most people no matter the scenario, his preferred environment is one which is closely-knit, lacking in clear direction for his prey to fight in. By manifesting the latent terror consumed from untold victims prior, Cresimir is capable of turning the world around himself and his victim into a twisted fascimile of the very same jungles which drove him mad. This does not have any proper offensive effect, and opponents will not take any genuine physical harm from it. As such, the cost of it on his energy reserves is quite low, and with but a snap of his fingers it would be entirely feasible for Cresimir to have this illusory forest expand 10 miles outward from himself in each direction. With more time to prepare, or an already-terrified populace from which to draw, he could certainly engulf whole cities in this nightmare.

This Illusory Forest has several traits which make it exceptionally difficult to navigate. Its height is seemingly infinite, and to the average person it would certainly seem to be the case. In truth, the trees of this hellish wood rise to nearly a mile in their height, entirely blotting out the sun and creating a place of near-total natural darkness. Cresimir, having recreated this forest from his greatest hunting grounds, has a perfect grasp on this forest's geography, and as such can navigate it effortlessly, recognizing all landmarks without so much as a moment of trouble.

Should Cresimir choose to do so, he may manifest at any time the Glimpse of Monstrosity Sueki ability through his Illusory Forest, not simply through his own face. This allows him a rather significant degree of control over those he is terrifying, as it allows him to create far more images than if he were operating outside of the Forest. Additionally, while operating within the Forest, due to it being comprised entirely of the terror he has absorbed from his victims, he is not in any danger of lacking in energy reserves.

The Illusory Forest is capable of lasting for 24 hours if Cresimir is unchallenged for its duration, as it requires no usage of its energy reserves, and may last more or less indefinitely with a steady supply of terror. In the event that he is actively engaging in combat, however, this quite drastically lowers. To speak in out of character terms, while Cresimir is capable of maintaining the forest for as long as necessary or reasonable in a social/non-combat setting, he may only maintain it for 6 posts in a combat setting.



Devouring Horror: Cresimir is a Sueki of the Nightmare Bloodline, and in theory is only of the House of Illusions. However, the nature of his ascension to proper Sueki means that his bloodline is extremely mixed, and as such he has thoroughly inundated himself with the blood of the House of Wraiths as well. Because of this, he has gained access to their ability to envelope any form of artificial light.

Racing Paranoia: Far from the Tranquil Mind technique of the typical Sueki of the House of Illusions, Cresimir's increased reactionary time and calculations, as well as his ability to sense energy from a distance, are born of his constant immersion in a state of fear. As such, these senses are in a constant state of being significantly above an average Sueki in their day to day life. However, they are not on the same caliber as another Sueki of his power were they to properly apply the Tranquil Mind technique.

Day Terror: True fear is never pushed away merely by the rising of the sun. That is a fundamental belief of Cresimir's, which has pushed him to what could be called some of the most dangerous upper limits of Sueki training. Having spent quite literally years of his life dedicated solely to overcoming this weakness, by exposing himself to gradually greater degrees of sunlight without end, Cresimir is no longer in danger of death merely by touching sunlight. Indeed, he is rather indifferent to what time of day it is, for the deepest fears are those which never leave us. While Cresimir is completely capable of operating normally during the day, he also receives no significant boost to his abilities during the night.



General Skills

• Durability: Advanced
  
• General Speed: Advanced
  
• Strength: Elite
  
• Martial Skill: Adept
  

Sueki Skills

• Blood Rite Affinity: Adept
  
• Kumopu: Adept
  
• Feeding: Beginner
  
• Bloodline Constitution: Adept
  

Will Skills

• Willpower/Determination: Advanced
  
• Mental Deduction: Advanced
  
• Focus: Advanced