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 Posted: Tue Jul 17, 2007 7:17 pm
Name biggrin ante Silver
Age:1020
Type biggrin eathdealer/Voidmaster
Weapons: Katana.
Appearance:Look at my signature.As of now the hair is silver, but it ocassionally turns black.
Abilities: well normal vampire things. I can also manipulate the darkness.
Background story:
I started out as young vampire, i was turned at the age of 20 when i was tending to my father's horses. A cloaked man stood in the shadows, and before i knew it, he was draining my blood. I could feel death taking hold of my soul, but my will was strong and i fought off death. THe man was surprised by my desire to live. He cut his wrist and said " Drink of me, and you will live forever." I drank his blood, and from that day on I was immortal. For five hundred years i travelled with that man, Marius. He taught me how to kill and how to fight. He taught me of the other creatures that lived among us. And then on my 520th birthday, he abanddonned me.
Recently:
I've travelled the world killing lycanthropes and humans, and anything that stands in my way. I spent a great deal of time in Japan learning what I could of the martial arts, my interest though was in kendo.
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2007 8:22 am
Name: Deuce Swild (PLAYED BY: Random Stranger #36)
Age: 320
Type: Sanguinarian
Weapons: Whatever's handy, The Pack.
Appearance: Deuce is a big boy. Fit, trim, and predatorial. A reach that would put a boxer in a bind, and muscles coiled so tight to touch him was to feel steel made human. Usually clad for comfort rather than style, he wears a pair of loose, baggy cargo pants and a form-fitting sleeveless red shirt. His hair is unruly, falling to chin-length in lank waves, the color of moist dirt. Trapping Jugulars was a simple collar of leather and steel, bearing his name in simple, blocky letters. "DEUCE."
Name: Jack Swild (NPC: Outside of NYC)
Age: 320
Type: Voidmaster
Weapons: Something sharp, The Pack.
Appearance: The smaller of the two, Jack is quite clearly a woman. Lean, toned, and more withdrawn, rather than the lashing explosion of size and ferocity that is her brother. Jack is a woman who strikes as a Tomboy, but steps beneath that guard with her clearly feminine nature. Likewise bound in cargos and a formfitting shirt, the difference is that Jack bears sleeves, buttons, and -white.- Though how she maintained such was a mystery. Hair was blue-black, bound in a myriad of braids, and pulled back in a ponytail. Collar is imitated, though letters are soft, but sharp, concisely cutting out the personality. "Jack."
Background story[Be detailed!]:
What can I do to put you at ease? Shall we begin like David Copperfield? I am born, I grow up. Or shall we begin when I was born to darkness, as I call it. That's really where we should start, don't you think? - Louis de Pointe du Lac, Interview with a Vampire.
Jack and Deuce were common mortals, with a desire to be more. They had urges, as humans do, they had the curiousity, that humans do, and they had the boldness, that many humans claimed, but rarely backed up. Though their ideals were more wild, carnal, their route to immortality was more classy, and Elizabethan, than they could have thought.
As mortals were wont to do, Jack and Deuce humored superstition, flirted with a believed unreal threat, in the hopes that it was all too true, that the thrill would be finished. And so, setting out on a night most Moony, with the intent of goading their beasts of fantasy, the Lycans. However, it wasn't to be so. In fact, the irony was -most- unfair. Caught betwixt a mix of the two, fraught in a fight, the two were snared away by retreating Vampires and turned for the sake of a recuperative meal. The two's desire, and unwillingness to die lead them to be turned. The turned were abandoned for dead at the hands of the lycans, a decoy, and were forgotten.
But, again, irony pervaded. The two were lycans at heart, they found love in creature comforts, and Deuce had swayed many a creature in the woods, claiming pets and friends amongst the woodland creatures in the hopes that, again, they would taunt superstition into striking. Jack, too, found comfort in the wilderness, but in a difference than Deuce. Where as Deuce loved the creatures, the life, Jack enjoyed the silence, the darkness, the quiet. Both were welcome, both were at home. And both had to be saved. Wolves, Coyotes, Wild-cats, all came to the two, in their moment of need...
As did the darkness. As the two ravaged the creatures for their love, and assistance, Jack's innane trait woke, summoning the shadows, and the darkness, as Deuce's wildside, his bloodlust, his frenzy and his association to those that frenzied mingled, forming something beyond twisted. Something new, and unheard of. The Pack. Creatures, of flesh and blood, fur and fang, but of shadow, of darkness. A mingling of the two, bound in their abandonment, in their need, inseperable from the twins as the twins were of each other. True companionship. A true family.
----
" Time can pass fast for mortals when they're happy. With us it was the same..."
As time passed, the woods receeded. Life was trimmed short, as metal and glass rose upward. And yet, the two survived, killing mortals, as mortals feared the animals did. Alleyways served as forest pathways, dumpsters a suitable stone, a suitable leeway of the rain. They made due with what they had, as the mortals claimed to do, as the humans boasted their "Adaptability." These two, they lived like the Lycans, they stunk of undeath... And so they were found.
So they were measured.
----
It came at a time of Peace. A time of hashing lines, of giving boundaries, of safety and protocol, of Mortal Diplomacy.
The two did not join. The two did not sway. The two confused both sides of the spectrum.
Much to the humor of the two, at a later retelling of acqaintances, It fell out as -thus-.
Lycans: "They are yours?"
Vampires: "Ugh. Surely not."
Lycans: "Shall we ask them?"
Vampires: "You take them."
Lycans: "No you."
Vampires: "Leave them. What are two, to the many we each possess?"
Lycans: "If you say so."
And so, a neutral line was drawn. They were no threat, unless threatened. They picked no sides unless they had reason to. A pair of Racially confused Vampires, living on the land, however Concrete paved and Glass-ridden it was.
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Posted: Wed Jul 25, 2007 7:29 am
Name: Shadow
Age: 16
Type: deathdealer.
Weapons: sherriken and vampire hunting tools like wooden stakes, crosses, a cross bow that launcheswoden stakes, and a sun generateing flash light.
Appearance: I look just like my avatar but i have a belt with vampire hunting tools like wooden stakes, crosses, a cross bow that launcheswoden stakes, and a sun generateing flash light. but no garlic! the belt is hidden under a cloke that looks just like the one on my avatar and I have my head wraped like a arrabe my whole face is covered except my eyes but i have sun glasses on.
Background story: a vampire that hates vampires so bad that he hunts them down. "though I am a vampire I hate what I have become so I swar vengence on all that have made me what I am. In other words all vampires and all how stand in my way."
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Posted: Fri Jul 27, 2007 12:07 pm
Name: Damien D'Felano Age: Appears 19, actual age 213 Type: Sanguinarian Vampire Weapons: Dual Uzis, Dual Swords, Dual Volcanic .20's Appearance:  Background story[Be detailed!]: Damien was born in the late 1700's in Paris, France. Though the conditions of his upbringing were not the best, he grew up in a wealthy home. Intending to take take over his father's business when he was of age, he was tutored to the perfection of education at the time. When he turned 19, he had a large party as a showing of his coming of age. But, of course, it attracted unwelcome guests. After the party, Damien walked home alone. Perhaps not a wise choice. He was attacked by the pale-skinned vampire. Though he fought ruthlessly against the attacker, he was soon subdued. The vampire then proceeded to destroy the calm of Damien's life by ripping it away. The pain was excruciating beyond explanation. His life was sapped away quickly with the unwaning hunger of the vampire. To the point of death, he was taken. And that's when his life, or death, changed rapidly. The vampire saw the dwindling spark of life in his eyes, and decided to change him. With each slow heartbeat, Damien was pulled deeper into the treacheries of darkness. A silent cry fell from his paling lips as he lay there on the cobblestones. He screamed in agony as his heart beat feebly for the last time. Everything ceased to function. Slowly, the pain ebbed away into a dull ache. But it was replaced with a hunger, a thirst so inhuman that it scared him. It was calling for blood. With his newfound instincts, he hunted. And he hunted. The numbers he killed to quench the burning thirst were lost in the blood dripping from his lips. When all of the pains were gone, he sat, weeping in front of his home. Never would he be able to live as he once did. He would go away, and protect the ones he cherished from the raging beast coiled deep inside. He left Paris and traveled abroad. He visited many of the vampire covens that lay hidden throughout the world. The days passed, the months slowed, and the years slipped by without much notice. For he would never change. No, not with what he was now. He heard rumors of a growing Coven in New York and decided perhaps that would be his settling point.
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Posted: Fri Jul 27, 2007 8:47 pm
Name: Wynter Crowley
Age: 300 (looks 15)
Type: Psychic
Weapons: Her mind and a special attack involving her bear
Appearance: 
Background story: She was born in Germany in 1706. My mother died giving birth to me and my father took care of me until I reached the age of 15. I chose to stay that age. I moved from Germany to Italy in 1897 and then moved to the U.S in 1918. I lived there for many a year till I figured out I had a sister I never knew about. I then took a journey to Germany to figure out more information from my father, he was dieing when I visited him. He had told me "What you want to know, you already do." I was perplexed by his words, he died shortly after. I then came back to the U.S determined to find my sister.
Morton:
Morton is Wynter's bear that helps her win battles. What many people don't know is that Morton is a living creature, and when not in a battle he looks like a doll. After fighting he usually gets cut and thats why he has so many stitches. Morton found Wynter after her father died. She was alone and he said he would protect her for all eternity.
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Posted: Fri Jul 27, 2007 9:48 pm
Name: Frederick von Trapp
Age: 467 (looks 19)
Type: Death Dealer
Weapons: Sword and a magic amulet
Appearance: 
Background story: I was born in France in 1590, ironically having a German last name thanx to my father. My mother died when I wad young and my father didn't care for me so he left me when I was 16. When I turned 19 I stopped ageing. I then moved to the U.S in 1908. I lived here sense. Then, I fell in love with a girl, hundreds of years younger, but I couldn't help myself. But, then she left and I couldn't find her after that. I had heard rumors from my friends she had returned, if she did, she didn't want to find me. Then one day.....she showed up.
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Posted: Mon Jul 30, 2007 10:02 am
Name: Pink
Age: 52
Type: Sanguinarian
Weapons: Two pistols (model varies), Carries a claymore when hunting
Appearance: In short, punk. Pink’s Mohawk is a lightning blue, the sides of his hair shaved to the skin. His eyes are an emerald green. Considering the scraps he has been through Pink has come out unscathed in general facially. He has a pierced nose, 2 piercing on his left eyebrow and one on his right, 3 piercing in both ears (1 lobe, 2 cartilage) and his lip pierced. He wears a small black choker around his neck. He wears a sleeveless red t-shirt, and on top a leather biker jacket. The jacket itself is studded giving it some protection from blows and such, though not to a high degree. He wears a pair of tartan trousers with zips spread randomly over them. The pants, being wool thus tear easily and have many patched areas from knife gashes, bullet holes and Pink falling over whilst generally “out of his face”. These trousers are tucked into a pair of steel toe capped, army surplus, boots which have seen better days but are still holding together, even through the bashing Pink has given them over the years.
Background story:
1955 - 1975
Pinks real name isn’t known. He was called Pink for some reason he keeps to himself, but the name has stuck. In fact it’s become something of a possession which he guards, refusing to go by any other name. Pink often talks of child hood. He explains how he lived on a council estate, though which one he can’t remember, and in others eyes he actually just wants to forget it. Pink was never one of the “boys” as such. He was often the one taking the beating as a child. His parents would often beat him as well, creating the rugged personality we see today. He would often scrap with other boys. At the end of the day he always had a spurt of luck that saved his face. His upper torso however is no pretty. Even as a child he had scars. His shoulders and chest were scarred. As Pink hit 14 he has grown fast. His face was more defined and his face in general was quite charming. This caused envy in the other lads, who were not so lucky, and so they carried on their violence towards Pink. However now Pink was larger than the most of them, only a few were Pink’s size or bigger. Pink knew how to punch, though he had never done so before, he had grown tired of their bullying and had lost his patience. It was at this point, the man known as Pink became the short fused Punk we see today.
At 16 Pink’s life turned around. Pink had always kept in line as a child but his father punished him for the little things. Pink had enough. He began to ignore his father, and each time his father went to hit him, Pink raised his bare fists, ready to fight. Pink had soon repainted his room to a dark red. He often wrote on the walls about the thrill of fighting in white paint. This pushed his father too far. One night, as Pink was studying, his father threw him to the floor and pinned him, and proceeded to beat him. Pink lay on his room unconscious for an hour or so. His mother loved his father too much to speak out for her son. Pink rose from his unconscious state coughing and spluttering. His face was bruised but luckily, as always, he had nothing long term. Pink growled at himself for not fighting back but he could not harm his own father, though his father could harm him. Taking a large back pack, Pink quickly packed clothes and a stash of money he had earned from a part time job he had taken. He reached under his bed and pulled out a large metal pole. He grinned. He wanted to leave an “impression” as Pink himself called it. Putting his money in his wallet, he carried his backpack down stairs in one hand, the metal pole in the other. He stood outside the living room door. His father and mother looked at him from the couch. He smiled at them tauntingly. “Well this is it! I’m going…but I got one thing to give you first…” Pink said to them. Then, WHACK, the pole connected with his fathers head. Pink did a lot of damage that day. Apparently he smacked his father so hard, the guy lost his marbles.
Pink lived rough for a while, sleeping on park benches and on the steps of libraries. Soon the police picked him up. He believed he was to be arrested for his father, but nothing was said about Pink. Apparently his mother claimed it was a gang. He was taken to a youth hostel where he lived at, earning money and putting it towards his own apartment. At the age of 20, Pink had a full time job and his own home. He was content but still he felt mistreated. The government had done nothing for him. His anger for the government and the capitalist system that Britain was in pushed him. For around a year it brewed and then came along Punk…
1976 - 1979
Punk hit Britain and Pink was on the frontline. He soon had acquired his hair style that he is known for. He soon had bought his army surplus boots that he still has today and a pair of woollen tartan trousers but he had not at this point added the random zip detail. Pink was soon going to concerts, getting pissed and having a good time. Soon his love of anarchy developed from his hatred of the government. He was fed up of the system and anarchy seemed to solve the problem. Soon he was involved with an underground anarchy network that often started riots at protests. Pink soon learnt to hate the police and still does so with a passion. “Pigs” as he calls them, are tools of the government, in Pinks eyes, and tools can be used unless broken. Around this time Pink gained his name. Why is unknown. Some whispered it was due to him sleeping with every girl, others said it was because he had a gay experience…no one knows, or dare say unless they’re looking for a fight. Whisper about it, and you can bet Pink will find out. It was around mid 1979 when things changed for Pink again, but this time, on a much larger scale compared to ever before…
Late 1979 – Present
Pink’s involvement in the anarchy group had attracted the attention of a group of Sanguinarian’s in Pinks home city. He was renown for his scraps with the police and it was rumoured he was wanted for GBH. This alone proved to the Sanguinarian’s he could become a powerful member if his anger was curbed against the Hunters and Lycan. The elder of the Sanguinarian’s in the area took Pink under her wing. They did not have a hard time with the siring…Pink was out of his face and this particular elder was female, one of Pinks few weak points. He woke up more sober than he ever had been. He looked around. He was inside the Sanguinarian base of operations. It soon turned out the anarchist’s were controlled by the Sanguinarian’s, the police were pawns of the Hunters. Pink’s sire was a powerful Vampire yet one of the most beautiful women Pink had ever seen. At first when he woke up to see her stood next to the couch where he was lay, he had said “Hello pretty”. He quickly received a slap from her. He soon learnt of who and what, she was. Her name, Pink never mentions but his bond with her was strong. This is the most sensitive subject of Pink’s past, and so I advise you my friend not to ask of it for doing so it not smart with a man such as Pink. His sire was amazing, her power of unmatched. Pink once showed me a picture…from how Pink treasure’s her, she was more than just a sire to him…
Over the following years Pink obviously learnt a lot from his fellow Sanguinarians. They watched him eagerly as he grew more knowledgeable in the Vampire ways. Though now restricted to the night, he hit the Hunters harder than most of the Anarch’s expected but his Sire never doubted him. According to Pink she would always mock the doubtful. However due to the Hunters being weakened the Lycan grew out of control. Soon the Vampires were loosing to the un-regulated Lycan packs. Pink led the counter attack against the Lycan recruiting many of his old human friends into the vampire ranks through his natural speaking skills and a bit of help from his powers. Soon the Vampires clashed with Lycan. It is thought to be at this battle for the city (which Pink also refuses to disclose, though it is NOT London) where Pink’s sire was killed. It is believe that Pink went into a frenzy few had seen before. Soon only a minority of the vampires stood, but had succeeding in chasing away the remaining Lycan. Pink and the remaining Vampire dispersed and Pink disappeared.
Pink travelled for many years. He was a troubled person. Travelling by night, sleeping by day. This was until he heard of the Punk scene rearing its pierced and tattooed head in the USA. At the first chance, Pink went and integrated into the scene, often being a unseen influence in styles of music and fashion. Now the scene has gone quiet, Pink has settled in New York. He knows of the Coven, and is known by the Coven. Each keeps a neutral stance to each other. Pink does not harm vampires of the coven unless they attack him and the Coven does not openly attack Pink. And so Pink lives in New York, waiting and keeping the time old belief and saying “Punks Not Dead”.
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Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2007 4:44 pm
Username: Sex Vendetta
Character Name: Jericho
Type: Sanguinarian
Age: 241
Appearance: Long, bleach-blonde hair down to her lower back, bright green eyes, and a pale complexion. Jericho has a tattoo on her lower back, an intricate black design, and also to the left of her left eye, a small, black star. On her left upper arm is a dark red scar, in the shape of a pentagram. Piercings; two on her tongue, one an inch behind the first one, her navel, and all the way up her ears.
Clothing: Normally short black skirts, or tight black jeans, with an assorted black shirt, a sweatshirt with glaring green eyes on the back, and black, high-heeled boots that go all the way up to her knees, with assorted buckles and zippers.
Weapons: A pair of black sais, one 9mm Glock, and assorted black-bladed daggers.
Personality: Jericho has a very vivid imagination, but is very down-to-earth. Although she doesn't trust people in general, she tends to grow on people, though she herself rarely shares the same want for company with those outside the group she stays with. She has a very odd effect on people, who tend to do a double take when she walks by, but she never stays long enough for them to start a conversation. People in New York often wonder who she is, but soon lose interest in who they have come to call, 'the girl with green eyes'.
Background Information: Jericho was born in England, but grew up in Russia, still harboring a thick Russian accent. Her parents were of high society, wealthy and snobbish. Jericho also had a sibling, her twin sister, Serina. The twins got along for the most part, but went their seperate ways after high school, Serina going to college, and Jericho dissappearing.
After years of school, Jericho graduated from high school, turned eighteen, and then left the country. Her parents searched in vain for their lost daughter, but to no avail. Jericho was clever though, in her desperate need to stay hidden, using cash instead of credit cards, so as to not be detected. She stayed in cheap, run-down hotels, ate at crummy restaurants, and avoided the nice, expensive placed that her family would be looking for her. Although Jericho knew that it would be dangerous, after a mere fortnight of being gone, she went back to her old house, and met her sister. They talked, and Jericho explained why she was leaving, and where she would be going. Serina promised her sister that she would never tell their parents where Jericho was, or that she even knew where she was, and Serina promised to send Jericho money, so she would not have to live in worry, nor work for a living. After telling her twin goodbye, Jericho got onto a plane, and flew to America, looking for a diverse environment.
She had found it. America proved much different to what she was used to. Without maids to dress her, Jericho was able to choose her own style. That of black, and leather, and to choose her own music. Oh, the wonderful joys of new music. Jericho fell in love with the raging guitar rifts, and the thudding bass of metal and rock music. She soon fell into a crowd. A crowd that went to all the concerts and their after-parties, to drink, do drugs, and whatever else they felt like.
Jericho never returned to her family in Russia, but still kept in contact with her sister, Serina.
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Posted: Mon Aug 13, 2007 6:35 am
Name: Merriweather.
Age: 219
Type: Sanguinarian
Weapons: Retractable Blades which are fixed to his lower arms and come out of his sleeves. teeth.
Appearance: Head to Toe;
Head: Face length in a comb over side parting ears showing.
Torso: Open trenchcoat underneath a waistcoat shirt and tie.
Legs: Full length trousers/pants
Feet: Dr Matens Boots.
Background story:
Merriweather remembers very little about his past as a human, little parts of his memories come back in his dreams, so he remembers something new about himself nearly everyday. He was brought up as a child in the prestigious Merriweather family, and as a child he feared his parents and he now knows why They were vampires. He was raised by Mother and Father who turned him into a vampire before being slain, by a gang of something which was not human. Merriweather doesn't remember his first name but is trying to find it out so he find out more about hi family, he has little interest in killing his parents' killers yet, as he wants to take things a step at a time and find out more about himself and his family and no one is going to get in his way. He takes things very personally if people get in his way as he thinks people are threatening his cause. During the day he spends his time in his parents abandoned house and searches for answers during the day.
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Posted: Tue Aug 14, 2007 1:55 pm
((sorry if we're not suppose to post here, but the other link wouldn't let me post it there... I hope it is alright and that my profile is good too sweatdrop ))
Name: Mika Rose Devlin
Age: Appears to be 18, is actually over 300 years old
Gender: Female
Type: Death Dealer
Weapons: She carries two twin pistols Engraved with Roses on the handles, A few daggers, and a vile of holy water
Personality: Mika doesn't appear to be anything but a cold hearted person that hates lycans with a passion, and for the most part that's all she is. Along with being a careless person and extremely blunt individual. But she is rather caring when it comes to certain people and is very selfless. She doesn't like to see people in pain and doesn't like to kill people for blood, but in times of need she does what she must do. She does not trust people or even other vampires unless she knows them very well and even so has doubts.
Background story:Born in a lower class family in the 1600's in a small town in Russia. Her parents were a traveling pair of entertainers. They would juggle, do stunts, blow fire, and many other things to gain money for their family. In other words they were like a small traveling circus. Mika's mother was a beautiful woman that was Japanese, her father was a handsome man that was from England. The two met and instantly fell in love. They had two other children older then Mika and a few years after her birth another child. They settled down and waited until Mika was older until they took their act on the road once more.
Life was relatively fine for the family.. sure they had their ups and downs, infact more downs then ups, but they lived happily together. When Mika was 16 her family was invited to a rather extravagant party. Mika met a very sweet boy there named Marcus. Marcus and Mika automatically clicked and had a lovely time. But on the way home a terrible thing happened to her and her family... they were attacked by Lycans. By luck, or otherwise Mika escaped and ran as fast as she could through the dark and twisted woods. She fell and tripped landing in a small creek. As the lycan approched her she closed her eyes and looked away, but she wasn't killed, infact she was saved. Saved by a vampire, to be more specific, she was saved by Marcus. He picked her up and took her back to his house. When she woke he was there sitting next to her holding her hand.
Throughout the next two years Mika and Marcus were insperible. He protected her and helped her through her emotions of her family's brutal slaying, and she made him feel alive and loved once more. Together they were quite a lovely couple and got many glares of jealousy, but they didn't care as long as they were close to one another, they'd be satisfied and happy.
The day he turned her was the day of her 18th birthday and the day of their wedding. They were to spend the rest of their immortal lives together and for the first time in her life since that tragic affair, she was truly happy.
One night on their 15th annerversary as they were walking in a park once again her worst fears were realized as a lycan struck and tried to kill Mika... Marcus threw himself infront of her and was sliced open. In her rage she killed the lycan and went to Marcus' side. She carried him to a small hospital that was in the village and pleaded for the doctor to give her blood for him, but he wouldn't. Instead her called a priest and the priest came and as they held Mika back they drove a steak into his chest. The last words he uttered were 'I love you my dear Mika, don't ever forget that..' and with that he turned to a pile of ash. Furious and confused she tossed them off and ran to the pile, she turned to them and grabbed a nurse by the throat. They tried to steak her, but she pulled the nurse infront of her and ecaped for the second time in her life.
Now with nowhere to go and no one to comfort or love her she gathered what little she had and left for a new life.
She traveled to numorous places including Paris, Germany, Tokyo, America, and many other places. Now she owns a mansion in Tokyo, and has an apartment in New York. She doesn't speak of the past and she only looks to the future and to avenge her family and her lovers lives with the lives of as many lycans she can.
Appearance: 
She is usually seen wearing a black and purple plaid skirt, fishnets, a black shirt, fishnet arm warmers, black combat boots and a long black leather coat.
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Posted: Thu Aug 16, 2007 2:35 am
Name: Valic De'Court II Alias: The Impaler Age: 728 Type: Voidmaster Nationality: Transylvanian Weapons: A Custom Colt 45. with Laser scope. A full set of throwing knives, with black cross for handles. Along each blade is one of the seven deadly sins, and and heavenly Vitrus. Appearance:  L/D Sirum TransformationBackground Story: Valic was born to a Transylvanian whore who cared not for Valic. He grew up with an abusive father and a Grandmother loved him to death. Valic was turned into a vampire by one of Vlad the II's troops, in a raid. When the village was spared Valic grew vengeful for his transformation, and began an aggressive streak, leading up to his father and mother's murder. Valic had killed his father by ripping his juggular from his throat, and his moother was set on fire after getting Impaled. Valic's Grandmother died shortly after Valic got on his own. Breaking Valic down more. Later in his life around 1456 Valic was hired as a military adviser for Vlad the III. Which in time broke Valic down into what he is today. Valic learned and grew fighting next to Vlad, and in time he grew to be just a vicious, if not more. Valic would take after Vlad through Impaling people to make examples out of them. But what Vlad got from Valic was taking the nose of fallen victums on the battlefield. With Valic by his side Vlad was destined to succeed, but after Vlad's unexpected Death Valic departed from the Military persona and go on the low. Valic gets his nickname from his past actions around 1476, around the same time Vlad the Impaler died (Real Dracula). Valic believed in Vlad's belief and theories. So in his honor Valic continued Vlad infamous murders, by Impaling his enemies on huge sticks in the ground. From the 15th century Valic has claimed more then 40,000 casualties. In the following 3 centuries the death toll would climb to just about 6 times Vlad the III's death count. But around 1652 Valic had grown tired of the warlord reign, and stepped into the shadows, almost causing the Vampire race to go unnoticed through out the 16th century. Around 1737 Valic began a clan that would go to become infamous in the Vampire world that simply went by "The Flock" in all actuality the clan was named after Valic, The De'Court Clan. The Clan would be known for its historic bloodbaths, and its beautiful mansions set in Transylvania. Elligance was a must for the De'Court clan. Well later in the 18th century the Vampire race was at its peek, in human suspettion. In a European Raid of all known Vampire strong holds, Valic's was one of them. In the raid all but a few survived, in the raid Valic's life partner was killed. At the end of those dark nights, The Mansions were burned to the ground and all known survivors were killed at sight. After the fall of the famous De'Court Clan, Valic went into hiding. Valic would only pop up in history if need be. And would only drink if he must, or some stupid punks went medalling in business that does not concern them. But now Valic as resurfaced and claims that the Flock is not dead. Valic surves one man and that is Vlad the III (The voice in his head.). Valic is on a quest to rebuild the most sinister clan ever known. Recently: Valic has been in hiding, but has come out to finally take his plan in to motion. He had been working with Lycan and Demon DNA.
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Posted: Sat Aug 18, 2007 12:21 pm
Name: Skye Akane
Age: 200 (looks 20)
Type: Deathdealer
Weapons: Two blades
Appearance: 
Background story:Skye was raised in England after her father was killed by a pack of Lycans. Her mother raised to hate Lycans because they killed her father. She became and excellant swordsman and now fights for the sake of her father. Her mother died shortly after she had turned 170 and Skye moved to the US to start a new life.
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Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2007 8:17 am
 Name: Aliella Darkeyes
Age: Just turned 17
Type: Psychic
Weapons: A moon dagger [There's a moon stone shining in the handle with two wolf head. She knows it's their enemy and she'll have a pleasure killing them with it.] and a necklace with a mystical rock [To help her concentrate her power.]
Appearance:
Human form
Vampire form
Background story:
She was a just a normal human walking in the beautiful park of Central Park. There was nothing special about her. She was an A-student and she was one of the smartest girl around. But there was this one day when all of this went terribly wrong for the young Aliella. She was walking in the darkness after a night spent with her friends. The air was cold and there was a strong wind. Aliella stopped for a minute just the time to check on her laces a little, but when she got her head up, there he was...a tall man dressed in black with a pale face. He seemed harmless at first but he started walking toward Aliella with hollow eyes. She couldn't stop looking at him in the eyes and she felt all her senses going away. The more he was near the more he looked dangerous for the little 17 years old girl. As he got closer he suddenly jumped on her and started bitting her on the neck. She started feeling weaker and weaker but the more she felt weak, the more she felt alive in a certain way. The vampire bitting her was disturbed by some human walking around in the park. The guy discovered Aliella half-dead on the grass, full of blood.
He took her with him, but he knew something was wrong with the yound lady. She was getting more pale and she almost stopped breathing. When then arrived home Aliella was dead in the eyes of the guy willing to save her life. He took her on the bed and called an ambulance in case she was still alive. When he hung up she was there...sitting on the bed with hollow eyes. She had changed from the past minutes and she seemed evil. She made a little smile before jumping on the guy, starting to suck his blood.
That's how the little Aliella became a vampire. She received a letter telling her to come to the Covent. This is how it all began... 
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