Born centuries ago, he was one of the first turned. He keeps quiet to all around him. He's seen too much carnage and blood shed. He's seen the future crumble into the pages of history. He lost his family centuries ago, and now wanders, offering aid where he must.
Crimson eyes, two fangs that poke out from his upper lip at all times, jet black hair that goes down past his waist and very pale skin. He usually walks around in a dark black suit, and his idea of casual wear is a soft crimson dress shirt, and a pair of black slacks.
Three swords. Two are katanas, one slightly shorter that hang on his left side. Another hangs on his back, a straight edged sword made of silver. He also carries, concealed, several dozen throwing knives.
My Secrets Are...
If I told you, they wouldn't be secrets. You'll know when it's time.
That death has been waiting for me, for a long, long time.
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