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Crichton, Dr Julian

admin Thu, 01/24/2013 - 21:42
Character Status: 
Class / Occupation: 
Noble, Physical Medicine
RPG Term Tag: 

Julian Crichton was born the third son of the of the Earl of Shrewsbury, Lord Ambrose Crichton the Second, he was destined for the military had not the death of his mother during his early years caused his father to be what could politely be considered overprotective. Shut away in his palatial home with only mountainous volumes of books to read he threw himself in to studying the world which he so rarely had the privilege to see. As his eldest and second brothers began to fill into the roles of upholding the family fortune and military respectively, he prepared for a life at University per the wishes of his long dead mother. He received his formal education at Oxford University. Here he would finally be free from the well-intentioned but misguided attentions of his father. Free of the smothering environment he encountered at home he dove into the academic world with gusto, seeking to learn all he could about the world around him; the world that until now he had largely been denied access to. He found the lectures on philosophy and mathematics enlightening but more so he was captivated by the works of Mr. Charles Darwin and his new views on the development of species. As such he turned his efforts toward achieving a degree in the field of bioscience, seeking greater understanding of the world around him by better appreciating the creatures within it at their most basic level. While in his second year of medical school he was approached by an upper classman, Francis Ackerman, who invited him to a "meeting of the brightest minds of the University". Ever eager to expand his knowledge base he accepted the invitation and soon found himself heading toward the Anthropology and Archeology in the wee hours of the morning. Unfortunately, or not as one may view it, he was several minutes late due to being accosted by a fellow student stumbling in from an illicit night on the town. After helping the poor fellow to his room he made his way back toward his intended destination. Upon arriving, however, he found the building set ablaze and the constabulary encircling the area, denying entrance to students and faculty alike. Surreptitiously making his way around the edge of the cordon he observed what he took to be Francis darting from a side exit. He followed the limping figure toward the University parks, making a fumbling attempt at blending in to the fading night. As the two neared the Cherwell River he called for the individual, whom he now believed to be the arsonist, to stop and turn himself in and receive medical attention. The shadowy form turned with a start, revealing Professor Harland Getwell of the School of Archeology. The professors usually calm demeanor and placid expression was replaced by animalistic fury and a vicious snarl. His eyes glinted crimson and with a bellow he lunged for Julian, hands outstretched and murder his clear intent. As Getwell sailed through the air, crossing the space between them with an inhuman alacrity, the morning sun crested over the city rooftops. The last rays of sunlight Julian thought he would ever see rolled over him and reached out to touch the mad instructor. With a violent roar Getwell ignited in mid leap and within seconds was a flaming combination of bone and clothes crashing to the ground in a smoldering heap. Stunned Julian could only collapse to the ground on his haunches and wait for the authorities to arrive. It was determined that Doctor Getwell had been involved in a smuggling ring that had resulted in the loss of dozens of ancient artifacts and pieces of artwork over the years. They theorized that the fire had been started by Getwell when he and his buyers had come to a disagreement on the disposition of a particular sarcophagus from a dig along the Austrian and Germanic boarder. The aged professor apparently fled the scene during the confusion with whatever substance he had used to start the blaze. The constant jostling of his escape and the violent lurch of his final leap had caused whatever was on his person to ignite, resulting in the ashes piled at Julian's feet early the next morning. The rest of his academic career went by without incident and he graduated in the top five percent of his class. He went on to open his own private practice and became known as a surgeon of impeccable skill, though research was where his heart truly lay. The tales of his patient survival rate, most of them actually lived, made its way to the ears of military. He was soon called upon to travel far and wide to provide care for officers and high ranking officials in service to Her Majesty. The travel appealed to him and the contacts he made served to further his own aspirations, these two factors easily outweighing the inconvenience of being roused at strange hours during the night and day. His definitive brush with the supernatural occurred during one such trip. Roused in the late hours of the afternoon he was spirited off to a non-descript warehouse in the docks district. Here he found a young gentleman in a ragged officer's uniform unconscious on a rough wooden table. While half-listening to the explanation he proceeded to go to work, removing bullets from obvious wounds in the officer's torso and shoulder. As he bent his mind to the intricate work of removing the strangely colored rounds and suturing the wounds closed Crichton lost track of time and afternoon soon turned to dusk. Slowly the blanket of night shrouded the city in its embrace and the moon began to climb through the sky. As it peaked through the clouds the man on the slab began to spasm violently, his body thrashing against the restraints strapping him to the table. Before Julian's eyes a startling change overtook the young officer. His muscles bulged and his face elongated, claws replaced fingers and hair sprouted from his body in thick tufts. In a matter of moments what had once been a relatively normal man laid out under Dr. Crichton's knife had morphed into an amalgamation of human and beast, aware and obviously quite angry. The last thing Julian remembered of that fateful night was the sound of the restraints ripping apart and the feral visage as it reached out for him with one clawed hand. He awoke in a military hospital where he was informed that the soldiers upon whom he had been operating were afflicted with a rare disease. It manifested in a number of various forms but in every case resulted in loss of control, extreme aggression, and physiological changes during its active state. One could learn to control and live with the affliction, but as currently there was no known cure. It was but one of many ailments that had come to the attention of the British military over the last several years, many of which had resulted in the creation of what could only be considered monsters. Without hesitation Dr. Crichton volunteered his services towards the search for a cure for not only this illness but whatever others might baffle the scientific community. He would be assigned to work with a field team, to gather first-hand knowledge of the new diseases that affected humanity and of the threats that arose from their propagation. Recruitment by the fabled MI7, of which he had only heard the barest of rumors, was a dream come true for Crichton. The man who had spent his childhood, for all intents and purposes, locked away from the outside world due to the fears of his father was no given that very same world in which to travel. In the name of Queen and Country he would search the world over for answers to the mysteries which confounded the greatest scientific minds of the Empire.