I HAD TO POST IT ON HERE SO YOU PEOPLE KNOW FOR ROLEPLAYING PURPOSES.
OCCUPATIONS:Surgeon, clinical psychiatrist, forensic psychologist, culinary artist, artist, musician, library curator
Information Pertaining To The Life Of Hannibal Lecter
I, Hannibal Lecter, was born in Lithuania on January 20, 1933 to a wealthy aristocratic family; my father, Count Lecter, was a descendant of the warlord "Hannibal the Grim" (1365-1428) who defeated the Teutonic Order at the Battle of Grunwald, in 1410, while my mother, Madame Simonetta Sforza, descended from both the Visconti and Sforza families who separately ruled Milan for a total of 250 years. I am the eighth in my blood-line to bear my ancestor's forename.
When I was six years old, I was introduced to my sister, Mischa, who was born in 1939. We formed a strong, affectionate bond. When I was nine, my family left our estate to live in a lodge in the forest in order to escape Hitler's Blitzkrieg. Three years later, my parents, tutor, and family retainers died in the crossfire between a German bomber and Soviet tank. The lodge was invaded by a group of former Lithuanian collaborators turned looters. Mischa and I along other local children were rounded up by the looters to be used as food during the cold Baltic winter. Mischa was cannibalized, but I escaped; I was severely traumatized by my sister's death, however, and was rendered mute.
Mischa's death haunts me for the rest of my life; It destroyed my faith in God, and since I believe that there was no real justice in this world.
I was taken to France by my uncle, Robert. I formed a close relationship to my aunt, the Lady Murasaki, with whom I instantly fell in love. I was educated at home on my uncle's estate on the banks of the Essonne; my uncle encouraged me to take-up painting while my aunt taught me aspects of Japanese culture. Still mute and disturbed by my sister's death, I saw the psychiatrist, Doctor Rufin. At age 13, I attacked a local butcher, Paul Momund, in retaliation for an obscene insult to my aunt.
I have killed at least nine people becoming known in the Baltimore and Chesapeake area as "The Chesapeake Ripper". Only three of my victims survived, William Graham, my captor, and Mason Verger.
I was captured March 1975 by FBI Special Investigator Will Graham. The courts found me insane. Thus, I was spared prison and sent to the Chesapeake State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, under administrator Frederick Chilton.
There William Graham found me years later seeking guidance on what was known as the "Tooth Fairy" case.
Five years later, an FBI trainee, Clarice Starling, was sent to me to administer a psychological questionnaire. Starling, initially assuming the assignment was related to her studies, ended up getting me to help the FBI in the Buffalo Bill case.
Dear Clarice, I have followed with enthusiasm the course of your disgrace and public shaming. My own never bothered me except for the inconvenience of being incarcerated, but you may lack perspective. In our discussions down in the dungeon it was apparent to me that your father, the dead night watchman, figures largely in your value system. I think your success in putting an end to Jame Gumb's career as a couturier pleased you most because you could imagine your father being pleased. But now, alas, you're in bad odour with the FBI. Do you imagine your daddy being shamed by your disgrace? Do you see him in his plain pine box crushed by your failure; a sorry, petty end of a promising career? What is worst about this humiliation Clarice? Is it how your failure will reflect on your mommy and daddy? Is your worst fear that people will now and forever believe they were indeed just good old trailer camp tornado bait white trash and that perhaps you are too? By the way I couldn't help noticing on the FBI's rather dull public website that I have been hoisted from the Bureau's archives of the common criminal and elevated to the more prestigious 10 Most Wanted list. Is this coincidence, or are you back on the case? If so, goody goody, cause I need to come out of retirement and return to public life. I imagine you sitting in a dark basement room bent over papers and computer screens. Is that accurate? Please tell me truly, Special Agent Starling. Regards, your old pal Hannibal Lecter, M.D. P.S. Clearly this new assignment is not your choice rather I suppose it is a part of the bargain but you accepted it Clarice. Your job is to craft my doom. So I am not sure how well I should wish you but I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun.
Tata, H.
