noss's full backstory

Well, well. Prying into my deepest subconscious thoughts, are we? Trying to figure out who I am? Or, maybe you just asked me nicely, and that's why I'm telling you. I don't remember, because you're very insignificant to me, but I'll entertain you by telling you who I am.
First thing's first, my name. I won't tell you my real name, of course; that would be absolutely no fun at all! No, no, I'll tell you what I call this mask I'm wearing right now. It is called Feratu Noss, but you will call me Noss.
I grew up in the palace, raised by my lovely mother-a painter of exquisitely high quality-and my stern but caring father, the royal executioner. I was a fairly happy child, but yet, I was constantly bored. My mother taught me to appreciate the fine arts, and while art seemed like a great thing to me, it just lacked the excitement I needed! I could feel some sort of passion, but it didn't feel... Raw, enough! It felt mechanical, and cold.
Luckily, for me, one day, my father brought me to see his work. He believed I needed to be shown what he did for a living, and to spend some quality time with him. It was such a lovely experience! Oh, to see their faces wail in fear as my father would raise his axe high above his head, and then bring it down on their restrained forms, ending a life in just a few seconds! Sometimes, I'd giggle and laugh as he did the deed, and hug him, telling him he was an amazing father. The sap thought I just loved time with him, and I was coping some kind of fear or disgust! Why would I ever hide my feelings about something so delectable as this?!

This went on for a while, and eventually, my mother was getting worried about me, so, she decided to teach me an art form to channel this bloodlust. I wasn't interested in many, but, when she showed me mask-making, I fell in love instantly! Finally, a way to capture the agonizing screams and crying faces permanently! My mother told me she was actually startled by my attention to detail on my pieces, and she wished I could make masks a little happier, as they'd be easier to sell. But, I kept with my original style! The macabre masks of murderous malice were magnificent!

As I continued to paint masks and watch my father, I soon began to go through training on the procedures of being an executioner. I thought it would be great fun, being taught how to end one's life! ...But, it was mostly paperwork. The killing had very little training, and while I killed about a person a day, sometimes more, sometimes none at all, it wasn't enough to sate me. I did, interestingly, in the back of my mind hear a strange word whenever I would execute someone; "Morietur". I don't know what it means, but whenever I'd kill someone, I'd say that before I brought my axe down. My father heard this, sometimes, and when he asked what it meant, I'd have no answer for him; truly, I didn't. I decided, one day, it meant "die". It's my favorite word, now.

My mother grew increasingly concerned for me, until one day, as my father was away on a business trip, she told me I needed to abandon becoming an executioner, and become an artist. Said it would be for the good of my health, told me I had the talent for it. I knew I couldn't trust her, so, I lied and agreed, asking for a loving, motherly hug. As she embraced me, I quickly grabbed her neck, and snapped it, her lifeless body collapsing to the floor. With a new face of pain covered in tears as a guide, I made a new mask. The best mask I've ever made. A symbol for someone whom I used to love, but now someone who was dead to me; literally, and figuratively. I named it after her; Elizabeth. It had a surname, of course, but you're not allowed to know that part.
When my father came home, I showed him the mask, expecting praise for my work, but, he had a different reaction. He called me-of all people-crazy! He called me a murderer, a lunatic, a psychopath! Then, with his executioner's axe, he tried to kill me! Luckily, I'm far swifter than him, and ran off, but not before stabbing him in the stomach with my mother's proboscis, leaving him with a horrid wound before I left his life, forever.

Later on, I buried the mask based on my mother. My past is as dead as she is. My name isn't even the same. But, that's completely fine with me! I am Feratu Noss, and I seek blood, I seek to see new faces contorted into agony, and, most of all, I seek entertainment!

I hope you got what you wanted out of me, since I won't tell you anything more. Goodbye, now. I hope to make a mask based on you in the future!