It was still several hours before sunset. Vladimir looked quietly around his poshly furnished inn room; restlessly pushing his long, jet-black, hair from his face. His glinting, golden, eyes danced around the room, finally fixating on the thick, fur, curtains at the foot of his bed. He snorted slightly as he raised forward, pushing the satin sheets out of his way. He slumped his trim frame to the side, extending his long, toned, arm down. He prodded his slinder hand into his leather pack. He fumbled around for a moment, finally pulling out a vial of Daemon blood. He quickly popped the cork and tilted his head back, downing the liquid in one dreadful gulp. He was considered by many a handsome man, but the face he made at the taste of the foul blood was akin to that of an orc.
As bad as the blood was, it was his only option at the moment, as average human blood lacked the strength to sustain him for very long, anymore. As he was an Elder of clan Tremere, and I use that term lightly, as the Tremere are the youngest of all Vampire clans, he faced certain…complications… He looked to the empty vial, and thought back to a time long forgotten by men. A time when clan Tremere were all but human, seeking immortality. Their Alchemy and Magery, known worldwide, could not produce lasting results. Certain members of the clan, and close friends to Vladimir, including lord Tremere himself, began experimenting with Necromancy. This soon escalated to the capture of Vampires. He glaired blankly at the vial as he remembered how he, and the others, would drain all the captured undead’s blood. How they would augment it with Alchemy and magical arts. All but seven of the clan abandoned these wicked persuits, proclaiming them the work of twisted, evil, men. But several years later, their prodding with things better left to the gods was met with success. There was just enough of the one of a kind potion for the seven of them to split.
"We were damn fools…" he whispered to himself. And he was right, as the potion did contain the blood of Caine, all-be-it weak and deluded, it lacked the potentcy of the true curse. After drinking the concoction, and going through the pain-staking process of death and rebirth, Vlad and the others found themselves immortal. But the cost was great, as it had robbed from them all of their Magery abilities. They were left alone in the world, hated by humans, mages, and the Vampires they had hunted to become immortal. It was a long, hard road for Vlad to get where he is now (but those are stories for another day). He and the others becoming great Necromancers and Blood Mages along the way. He thought fond thoughts of his new family, the Camarilla, as he sprung to his feet.
He walked to the table, almost gliding across the floor, without making a sound. Vlad stretched his tall, toned body. Then he straitened his favorite, crimson colored, elvish robe and waited for twilight. He stroked his gottee and mustache, making plans to train for the great war that was soon to come…..
