Post by Claude Frollo on Nov 5, 2017 9:00:59 GMT -5
Claude Frollo
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Name: Claude Frollo
Nickname: No.
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Sexuality: No.
Fairytale: Hunchbank of Notre Dame
Year: Resident
Face Claim: Francois Arnaud
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Personality: Cold, calculating and definitive in his decisions. Claude sees the world in black and white, although personally lives within the grey area as he is a firm believer that sometimes to do the right thing sometimes the righteous must get their hands a little dirty. He believes that the sins that he commits will be forgiven because they have been in the pursuit of something greater, of a better world and a brighter future. He has his own ethos on what right and wrong is which does not necessarily correlate to the teachings of the religious texts he grew up studying meaning he has his own interpretation of the good book which he lives by. He is not quick to anger but when he does manage to work himself up into a wrathful rage, things tend to be broken and there tends to be a lot of fire. However he is quick to judge, first appearances generally being all it takes and within the first minute of meeting someone he has generally made his mind up about them.
He believes he is intelligent and in some ways he would be if he was not so stuck in his own twisted beliefs. He has ambition and drive and will do whatever is necessary to meet his goals of ridding the world of ‘evil’. Although he is quick to judge other people he is not quick to rush into his plans, he spends time pouring over them, looking at all the intricacies and figuring out where they might go wrong, a perfectionist, if you will. And he hates loose ends. When it comes to women he believes that they are all ‘Eve’s’ and ‘Jezebels’, tempters, who have been put on this earth to question the resolve of men…if only they weren’t so beautiful…in short, he tends not to give them the time of day. Also, anyone that is not French or hails from any other background than his, tends to get the same prejudiced treatment. HOWEVER! Should someone indicate that they might be useful to him…well…he might be able to put that prejudice on a back burner for the time being…
Appearance: Once a man of the cloth he has never really managed to get into the bright colours that most of the men of his particular station donned on the streets of Paris. He prefers dark serious colours, or rather, black, and only black. Sometimes purple, but only when he’s feeling like letting down his hair a little. However, despite this lack of colour the clothes that he wears are always very well made and of the finest material, and so the walking hypocrite that is Claude Frollo indulges a little in his vanity. And he is…very…very vain. He knows he looks good in black which is why he wears it and he is incredibly proud of his dark hair. He knows he is handsome, but believes that he has been blessed with this, to use it to his advantage and sees it as a gift for all the good work that he has already done. He tried to appear humble, he really did, especially when he was still in training to become a priest, however it just never suited him. He stands tall and straight, he walks slowly but with purpose, he never slouches and his gaze, when it is rested upon you is firmly fixed there until you are squirming in your seat.
History: Born in the 1400s in Paris France, Claude Frollo grew up as the second son in a fairly wealthy house. His father was a gregarious man that loved life and everything it had to offer, a merchant by trade he had a taste for the finer things and even finer women, often leaving his somewhat sickly and meek wife, and Claude’s mother, at home. Claude loved his mother and to him she will always be a saint, and he hated his father for his constant excess and his constant stream of mistresses that so upset his poor mother. Due to the repeated absence of his father Claude did a lot of the running of the household when he came of age, especially when it came to presiding over the teachings of his younger sister whom, like his mother, was another saint. His older brother however was just like his father and no matter how much Claude tried to reign him in his older brother would get himself and Claude into trouble. Whenever his father and his brother were in the same house it was often then filled with other drunken merchants and mercenaries that would prey on his sister.
The final straw was when one of his father’s guests ‘ruined the reputation’ of his sister and his father…did nothing about it except complain about it and would half to pay more of a dowry for her now. Claude had always had a more vicious side to him but had tried to keep it under wraps for the sake of his mother and sister, and to try and be a more goodly and godly person, however enough was enough. It was time to release that darkness. At the age of 16 Claude waited outside one of the establishments his father frequently attended, sitting atop his usual carriage that would drive him first to the house of one of his many mistresses before bringing him home. Claude had already disposed of the driver by paying a bunch of nearby ladies of the night to distract him and then put an end to him. When his father finally emerged, he was drunk and stinking with alcohol, as he approached the carriage, dressed in his cloak and hat to conceal his identity Claude pretended to ‘assist’ his father accidentally spilling more wine on him from a bottle at his side. His father laughed in good humour, even pretending to try and drink the wine from his stained clothes, making Claude even more disgusted with him as he bundled him into the carriage and locked the door. Claude then proceeded to drive his father out of the city and into the countryside; his father was so inebriated that it wasn’t until they were well outside the city that he started to complain about why things were taking so long. He didn’t even register that the carriage had stopped and by the time he realised it was filling with smoke…it was too late.
Eventually word came that their father had mysteriously died on his way back from a party, the burnt remains of the carriage having been found far outside of the city. The culprit was never caught.
Finally free of his father’s influence Claude had a mind to remove his family from this debauched city of Paris out into the countryside, his brother had other ideas and had his brother sent off to the countryside alone to join the clergy. He could not go against his brothers wishes, the new ruler of the household, and try as he might to return to Paris and his family, his brothers mercs kept him in the countryside. He threw himself into his teachings instead, studying the bible, just as his mother had taught him, putting his faith in god to protect his family. He knew he wasn’t cut out to take the cloth, he still had too much of his father in him, not to mention the beast within him that he constantly had to fight to supress, however he tried, he really tried and somewhere along the way he picked up the fervour, much to the concern of the bishop in charge of his teachings. Worried for the boys spiritual health he advised him to get out of the church a little more, experience life and paid off the Mercs to allow him to leave and travel for a bit, they agreed so long as he never travelled to Paris.
So he spent some time travelling around France and visiting the various different chapels and churches of his faith, and gradually he came to enjoy this life of travelling and appreciating the beauty of the places he visited. On the way he met Caterina. She was part of a caravan of Gypsies that were travelling in the same direction as he was one time and he found himself sitting by a fire with them one evening, enjoying their company, especially Caterina’s. He travelled with them for a few days, telling himself it would not be longer, and then a few days turned into a few weeks, and then into a few months, and over time he acclimatised to their way of life. Enjoyed it even. He spent many a night by the fire speaking with Caterina and whilst he was sorely tempted by her he stood strong in the face of such temptation. He found himself opening up about his own life, telling her about his family, about wanting to protect them from his wild older brother.
Which was when Caterina suggested that he go to Paris to visit them. if they kept it quiet then how would his brother ever find out. Again he was tempted and this time he gave in. He travelled with her to Paris to his old home, only to find that none of his family were there and that the place had been turned into a house of sin. He asked the proprietor of the establishment where the family that had been here had gone. She said that the mother had died a few years back when the house was broken into by thieves and bandits, although she looked at Caterina when she said this and the implication was clear. She then explained that the daughter had been married off to one of his brother’s Mercs, and had passed away not long after his mother did from a disease that had been given to her by the Merc.
He was distraught, his sister was gone, whilst he had been travelling with the sinful gypsies she had been suffering a slow and painful end. His mother, a saint in his eyes, destroyed by the very same kind of people he had spent the last few months with, he knew it could not have been them that did it…but…was it in their nature? Was it just who they were? He had heard stories of their kind, he had seen that perhaps not all that they did would be considered good by the good book. What had he done? How could he have allowed himself to be swayed by the beauty of this woman, refusing to see the sin that was apparent within her and his kind?
In a rage he blamed all of this on Caterina and her kind, it was gypsies that had killed his mother, a gypsy woman that had tempted him to come back here and gypsies that had kept him from returning and saving his sister. His anger became too much and he let it all out on her, however she slipped his grasp, horrified at the darkness she saw in him, and ran. He gave chase but she was gone, no doubt to the hidden place, this ‘Court of Miracles’ that she had spoken of. Still burning with wrath and vengeance, the gypsy might be gone but there were still a couple of people that required the same justice that he had dished out to his father. He spent the next few weeks planning, ensuring that every detail was accounted for and that nothing could be traced back to him.
He located the Merc that had married his sister, still surviving from his own disease, although barely, meaning that it was quite easy to lock him and his men in a tavern and allow an inferno to consume them. His brother though, a more personal touch was required for him. He found out his brother had recently got involved in the military trade and as such was transporting a great deal of sulphur to one of the city states in Italy. Claude had smiled gleefully when he learned that. Donning his hat and his cloak and knowing that he had changed much since the young boy that had been sent to the countryside, asked to meet his brother with a view purchasing a portion of the Sulphar, quoting a ludicrious price for it. His brother, greedy as he was, agreed and met him at the stores so that his buyer might review the product before buying it. He met him for a drink first and ensure that his brother had got incredibly drunk, then they proceeded to stores where, once inside Claude moved in and restrained his brother revealing his true identity. His brother panicked but there was nowhere to go, he tried to say that the authorities would find out, that they would catch him, but Claude pointed out that he was clearly drunk when he came here, and knocked over a lantern whilst looking at his sulphur. Claude then knocked the lantern into the sulphur where he had placed his brother and left.
He knew that what he had done; patricide, fratricide and much, much more. He confessed his sins and waited for retribution from God. He waited and waited and waited...but there was nothing. Which is when he had a revelation. God had not punished him because his brother had been sinful, his father had been sinful; because he had been doing god’s work to rid this world of evil. From that moment he made the decision to continue to do gods work, to be like the Archangel Michael, the wrathful right hand of God and he would rid this world of all the evil that dared to reside within it. He knew now that he was not destined for the cloth, he would do gods work but it would be as a man of the law, as a man that could allow himself to have blood on his hands, because it was truly for a better future.
He was currently in the process of being trained to become a judge, rising up the ranks and disposing of those that were in his way, when on one day, as he stood outside the grand Cathedral of Notre Dame, devilish sorcery pulled him backwards and into the swirling vortex…which brought him here…which was surely hell…
Other: I am going to admit here and now that this Frollo is a somewhat watered down version of the one presented in the film. In my opinion Frollo is one of the most evil Disney Villain; if not outright the worst and I very much believe that Frollo is an interesting character that could be fun to have on the board. However there are some themes associated with him that I have no intention of playing out or delving into (hence choosing to bring him on to the board at a much younger age where he might go down a different, albeit still evil, path.) I am also aware that Frollo is very linked with the Christian religion and would like to take this opportunity now to say that the views expressed by Frollo are his own warped views on this particular religion and not my own and no offence is meant by it. It is hard to separate him from that part of his character which is why I am making it clear now that this is not at all how I view Christianity and that it is not at all, in any way, meant to offend anyone of that belief. If anyone is offended by anything that is written, or is uncomfortable, please let me know as I really don’t want to do either of those things.
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Sample Post:
He looked down at his sleeve a smiled. He brushed off the ash that had gently landed on his sleeve before it singed his clothes. The men beside him continued to squirm in their armour as they took in the scene before them. He had no use for them now and should have dismissed them some time ago but he believed it was important for them to see this, he believed it was important for them to understand. That and he was very much enjoying their discomfort. The peasantry had long ago departed, for them the show was finished when the thrashing and shouts had stopped; he could not keep them here, at least, not yet anyway. The guards however, he would make them wait a little longer until the last of the fire had died out.
“It never fails to amaze me how quickly the fire takes to them,” he said in awe.
He placed a firm hand on the back of the guard to his left and pushed him forward a bit as he gestured towards the fire, “you see, there, go on, take a closer look, you see how there is barely anything left. Do you see?”
“Yes sir,” said the guard quickly, through gritted teeth.
“Behold the work of God,” said Claude, barely above a whisper before adding in a louder voice, “the fires of hell are so eager to welcome these sinners into their embrace that they fan the flames all the quicker to bring them there. The darker the deed, the higher the flames rise. Is it not true?”
“Yes sir,” chocked out guard, the smoke filling his lungs and causing him to cough.
There was another echoing ‘yes sir’ from behind where the other guard was, equally as strained. It was becoming tedious now. Claude rolled his eyes and said in a disappointing manner, “you are both dismissed.”
The guards pulled off a quick salute and then ran as fast as their armour would allow them too.
“Fools,” he grumbled to himself as he looked back at the fire, “too much weakness in their souls…I shall have to remedy that.”
He stepped closer to the fire as it continued to rage on. The stench would have been unbearable to most by now but had gotten used to it a long time ago. Such things were to be endured when faced in the pursuit of the greater good.
However, he noticed something unusual amongst the flames, they moved in a strange way, almost akin to the haze of heat he often saw rising at the top, but…different somehow. The way it moved it was not rising like the fire but…swirling…he leaned forward to get a closer look at whatever devilry was happening when…Claude Frollo was sucked through a portal…a portal he very much believed was on to the fiery depths of hell below.
