Runt

[Speaker for the Dead]

Name: Runt Clegane
Alias: Runt
Clan: Malkavian
Sect: Anarch
Sire: Dracon Nichols

Parents: Cletos & Ameila Clegane
Sibling(s): Malice, Vicious
Half-Siblings: Aegon, Bryon
Children: --

Love Interest: Alex DeLarge
Past Relationship(s): --
Crushes: --

Childer(s): --
Ghoul(s): --

Year Born: 1117
Year Embraced: 1141
Years in Torphor: Multiple.
Heritage: British, Norwegian, French
Place of Birth: Clegane's Keep, England
Residence: Boston, Agricola

Height: 5'8"
Weight: 132 lbs
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Blue

Distinguishing Mark(s): Typically seen wearing a leather mask. Long, blonde hair and chilling blue eyes. Hourglass shape and lush lips. Husky voice.

Occupation: Mercenary, Bounty Hunter, Tracker

Associations: --

Properties: --

Pet(s): --

Animal Form: Hound and Hawk

Derrangement(s): Delusional

Disciplines: Auspex, Obfuscate, Dementation

Out of Clan: Potence, Animalism, Protean, Celerity, Presence, Dominate, Fortitude, Vicissitude, Chimestry

Merits: Danger Sense, Beast Affinity, Eat Food

Flaws: Territorial, Vengeful, Conspicuous Consumption

Personality: Barbaric, Cunning, Animalistic, Survivor, Malicious, Stubborn, Resourceful, Intelligent, Sensual

Brief History: Lord Cletos Clegane returned home from the War an old man. He didn't care for his wife. She was given to him on account of the fact she was deathly ill -- or so her family thought -- and no one else would take her. That was all well and good with Cletos who only wanted an heir, then a swift death from her. She never died however, much to his chagrin. How he wished she did though, Amelia was a feeble, boring woman. She was not a vigorous lover, no good at housekeeping, a poor seamstress, and in his opinion the worst cook in England. Returning home was more of a curse than a blessing. His two sons Aegor and Bryon were of age and departing to take up arms for the crown as squires leaving him to endure his wife alone. He made love to her when the season was cold and he was too lazy to travel to the brothel and impregnated her once more; lacking the coin he begged her to drink the moon tea, but she refused. He contemplated killing her, or giving her a hard blow to the belly to terminate the pregnancy but feared the repercussions if her kin ever discovered such a foul deed.

Throughout the rather trying pregnancy. Amelia grew the size of a house, and Cletos became quickly disinterested in her, he rarely came to their bed, but instead kept the company of whores. When he wasn't out whoring, he was indulging his second joy to fighting: breeding his hounds. It quickly became his passion and a source of income: they were such noble, well trained beasts, and not to mention beautiful. Lords came from near and far to purchase them. It wasn't the sole source of income for him, but it was the most profitable one. Not enough people, in fact, barely anyone lived on his land for him to tax. House Clegane was not an ancient house. Hell, their priest died and the Church hadn't even bothered to send a replacement despite five requests. They desperately needed the coin, especially if he was going to be burdened with another mouth to feed. Breeding kept them not in luxury, but comfortable. Truth be told, there were very few expenses he willingly paid. Lord Clegane was a frugal man, the only thing he spared no expense on was keeping his garrison of men fed, armored, and paid. In that regard, he was not only not cheap, but excessive.

During the Summer Solstice, Amelia went into labor and much to his happiness the midwife had to cut not one, but three children out of her. Amelia died that day, the Stranger took her with a look of complete anguish on her face. How he loved that twisted, tormented look affixed on her visage in death! With glee he penned a letter to her family informing them of her death. After the euphoria passed, Cletos realized quickly however he was ill equipped to raise one child, let alone three. Both Aegor and Bryon were raised by their mother while he oversaw the marital training when he returned home from campaigns. He refused to compromise his garrison and armory to accommodate the children with a milk mother, a care taker, and a governess. He was in quite the quandary on how to bring up these children up with only minimum expenses. In what he thought was infinite wisdom his prized bitch Bane, became their milk mother, their care taker, and their governess. He latched each child on the teat of Bane who's litter resulted in all stillbirths, leaving her ripe with milk.

He worked the kennel and Bane reared his children. He named the boys Vicious and Malice, he was not a woman, naming children was of no importance to him, he named them as he would any of his hounds. The little girl, he never officially named, her lack of size earned her the name Runt. A name he would yell at her when she hindered his path while he moved about the kennel or annoyed him.. He barely spoke with them unless it was to give a command: Sit, Quiet, Come. He fed them bowls of meat, the very same meat from the stock he kept for his hounds. As months passed, they grew raised by beast and not man; they crawled on all fours, they sniffed each others asses, they barked instead of spoke and Bane raised them as she would any litter of pups. It spared him from wasting time from raising them himself, he had two sons already grown serving as Knights and was content with that, and if these children died or lived, it was of no concern to him.

As the years passed, it was not uncommon to come to Clegane Keep and see three wild, feral children running about naked, like animals, or to find them huddled naked laying in the sun together. Passing by Lords who spent a night would leave disgusted, proclaiming the children worst than wildlings and their reputation began to build from there.. Even the men at arms gave them wide berth and often avoided the children on account of their savagery. Much like any manner of beast, they adapted a pack mentality. Somehow Runt was the alpha in it, controlling both her brothers, dictating their every movement. Vicious and Malice both never acted without her approval. While he was no Father, he was certainly a fine breeder and he knew how to control and break a pack. Cletos punished Runt for every wrong doing and Runt alone, she was the example for the other two. They never broke, he was incapable of controlling them. The only thing able to control them was Bane. His own children took reprimands better from a dog than him. When Bane finally died of old age, they became wild, and completely out of control. They escaped the kennels in which they were forced to sleep in account they were far too destructive to be allowed inside the house.

When he caught them humping the first time, it was a dismissible offense. The second, third, fourth, and fifth time he realized quickly they needed to be separated. This was not a matter of morality, he did not care about their incestuous nature, or the fact they were only of twelve years old and already amorous. It was a matter of not being able to afford moon tea, or another mouth to feed. He sent ravens to other nobility and kin, begging Lords to ward his dear, sweet -- he embellished -- Runt Clegane, relatives who had visited in the past refused outright. Lord Tytos, however, accepted the offer. Runt was sent away to London, where she did not remain for long. She bit Tytos's cousin Garth, and it was no love bite, it was straight through the meat into the bone.

She was sent back accompanied by his son Bryon Clegane; on her face was affixed a leather contraption. In the letter sent to him by Lord Tytos it dictated as punishment the mask could not be removed, if it were to be removed it would be considered a punishable offense by his leige. Bryon claimed to his father that Garth was attempting to molest her, and that her bite was an act of a self-defense and if not for his interference Garth would have beaten her to death. Byron was appalled -- for some reason -- by his father's response that she should have been a "good bitch" and let herself be mounted by a man of such noble house to create a fine blooded child. Bryon reminded his father that they were not hounds, but his kin, his children and Cletos didn't care to hear it. That was the last time he spoke to his son Bryon, who called him all manner of names before departing, he never visited Clegane Keep again. Their relationship was all but severed from then on.

The pack was united again, and he was once more troubled by their presence. He opted to put them to good use if they were going to be around. He gave them the only thing he could, he taught them both discipline and martial skill. They became deadly with all manner of weapons, deadly with their hands and teeth. They even began wearing clothes willingly, without ripping them off and discarding them. He suited all three of them in armor after that. They obliged his commands after enough beatings and even began to speak themselves, but they didn't speak as normal men and women, they spoke in their own jumbled language that consisted of words, growls, and snarls. They still understood him well enough to follow his orders. He released them out into the mountainous west land owned by House Clegane and allowed them their freedom. They lived out in wilds, and patrolled for encroaching enemies and poachers on his ancestral soil. They became effective, dangerous, no one neared Clegane Keep with ill intentions.

Soon after that they became members of his men at arms and what a sight they were. His two armor clad sons, leashed about the neck, led by his beautiful, wild daughter with that odd fixture about her face fastened there by Lord Tytos and meant to remain on her face forever. They struck fear into the hearts of everybody, and just as quickly as his sons became Knights of high regard and acclaim so too did his other three children become equally famous -- though not Knights, everyone refused to squire them, but they did have Knight's training.

It was a few years later that his daughter stirred him, prettier than any of the cheap whores he could afford; now a woman, she was becoming of interest. It would also spare his purse the copper he paid out to lie with dirty, unclean women. Tonight was the night he decided, tonight he'd mount her. She allowed her brothers to take her, she would now consent the same to her father. He left Clegane Keep, drunk and getting drunker, a dark mead clasped in his hand as he headed out for the kennels. Opening the wide doors, he found his three children in a tangle of bodies; Vicious and Malice on either side of her, as she was enveloped by their great, large bodies, as they shared body warmth amongst each other. He whistled sharply and both boys slept through it, deeper sleepers than her he knew. She roused peeking over her Vicious's broad shoulder to look at him. "Come." He commanded and she obliged him, no doubt out of fear he'd whip her if she didn't.

She tried to stand, "No," he said firmly. "Crawl," He ordered and again she obliged, but there was a hesitance. As she crawled to him, she squatted at his boot clad feet. He grinned, "Hello, beautiful," he said softly, liquor stained lips curling to a grin as he stroked her beautiful blonde hair. "Did you ever suck your brothers?" he asked, grinning as he clasped the back of her head clutching her hair with his great hand. Likely she never did, likely they always repeated the same mechanics of sex they saw from the hounds, just emulating such acts displayed before them. She looked at him confused, but voiced no complaints or concern.. That was an invite, if there ever was one in his mind.

He began unlacing his pants, she began to fidget and try to pull away. "No, no, no," he said, as he pulled out his great, hard cock for presentation. "How do I take this bloody thing off," It was then he began searching for a manner to open the mask. He could not find one right away and she was growing increasingly more hostile moving her head to and fro struggling to get away. He released his cock and her, rearing his hand back and slapping her. His hand collided with such force against the mixture of the leather that encompassed her face and the visible skin; she reeled back and fell, trying to scramble away. But he was on top of her quick, "Fine then, I'll just take that cunt of yours." He grinned and she protested loudly; "No, get off me!" She was fierce, a fighter trained by him so she knew him to inflict pain; her blows hurt, but he was much too large for her to overpower him.

"If you'll fuck your brothers, you'll fuck your father!" he growled savagely as he tried to mount her, but little did he know, her pack had awakened and silently snuck up on him. He didn't realize until the moon light from the kennel window had vanished and he was in Malice's shadow; as big as Cletos was, he was heaved to his feet as though he were a toddler by the strong hands of Malice who only growled in protest at him. Vicious flanked him, while Malice held him still. He reached for his sword at his belt, but it was Runt's tiny hands that prevented him from unsheathing it. How did she get up so fast? He glared at her, "Cunt! Stupid cunt!" He hissed.

She was smiling beneath her mask, he couldn't see it, but he knew -- "Oh, Cletos, such a temper.." Her voice was purling and melodic as though she was aroused; it mocked him. A clear flow of speech that shattered the illusion of her simplicity. Her tiny hands twisted his big fingers and he lost his grip on his sword, she unsheathed it, holding the blade in her hand with a practiced ease, "You're no father of mine, you're just our kennel master." Then with a deceptive strength the blade pierced his belly at angled thrust, under the ribcage, directly up into his heart. The blow did not kill him instantly, but when she twisted the blade like he taught her to insure death it did. The last thing he saw was her eyes, as he soundlessly died in the arms of Malice..

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