Post by Linx on Dec 3, 2011 20:56:38 GMT -6
Name: Helios
Aliases: Vincent Valtieri
Age: 2532
Gender: Male
Species: Vampire
Alignment: Neutral
Canon or Original: Original
Date of Birth: 498B.C
Place of Birth: Sparta
Physical Appearance:
Hair: Black
Eyes: Crimson
Height: 6’6’’
Marks: None
Race: Caucasian
Skin Tone:Tan
Body Type: Athletic
Clothing Style: Modern, leather outfit.
Footwear:
Boots
Summary:
Due to his height, he tends to stand out in crowds, though not by much thankfully. With a 6'6'' frame, he felt it best to stay in shape over the millennia, to keep a good body, as opposed to a gangly one, fairly confident it attracted the women better. He works out almost everyday to keep it, practicing his various forms of martial arts that he's picked up over the years, relaxing and staying fit. The most noticeable thing about him to people however, is his brilliant crimson eyes, a rare occurrence among people. He's become very fond of flashing them at any beautiful women, giving them a wink before trying to impress them in one of his myriad of ways. Even after two millennia without sun, his body has kept itself tanned, mostly because it's genetic for him. His whole race was one that had a golden bronze tan, and he inherited it from his parents, and even the lack of sunlight haven't eliminated it, giving him that in shape and fit look that he uses to attract women, as opposed to pale pasty nerd. His lips, contrary to classic vampire myth of crimson, are a light pink, an average color for people, his overall body giving no hint to his unique condition. His sense of clothing has changed over the years, and he has currently settled into modern punk/goth styles. He wears dark jeans, a tight black t-shirt and double belts on his waist, when not trying to stick out too much. However, when wearing what he prefers, he has on tight, form-fitting leathers. He has a leather shirt of sorts, cut high enough to leave his muscled stomach and upper arms bare, with tight leather pants. He also has on leather vambraces, running from his palms to his elbows, with the material of his clothes cut thick enough to act as light leather armor as well, providing him minor protection leaving him mobile still. He wears either black Vans or combat boots for fighting or hanging out, depending on his mood. He’ll sometimes wear more than that if he feels like blending in, or going to a concert, just to not stick out as much, or to have more random items on his body to use in a fight. He’s almost always seen in his normal leather outfit, as that’s what he’s most comfortable in, and used to, wearing leather armor throughout his history, mainly to stay warm more than protected. Should he be out to formal occasions, a rare occurrence, he’ll wear nice looking clothing, but never a tuxedo, it’s always been too formal for him. He’d wear slacks and a dress shirt, never a tie, again, too formal.
Personality:
Likes:
1.Reading
2. Tracking
3. Playing Music
4. Meeting New People
Dislikes:
1. His brother
2. Nosy people
3. Loud noises
4. Most Guys
Flaws:
1. Obsessive
2. Impulsive
3. Chaotic
4. Blunt
Summary:
Born and raised to fight, one would naturally assume that it would be one of his favourite hobbies, but he prefers reading more than anything. Despite being born a Spartan, he prefers the mental challenges he might find in literature, more than the physical challenges of a fight, though he will fight if he feels strongly one way or another. He can be found alone late at night sitting alone somewhere with another massive book in his hands, deeply absorbed in the text, ignoring everything else around him. He’s spent his two millennia searching for his brother, becoming a strength and weakness of sorts. With the experience he’s developed by spending two and a half millennia searching for him, he’s able to track down almost anything, knowing the right questions to ask, and the being able to think as required by the situation. It’s helped him a few times along the way, playing the P.I. to earn some money to keep his own personal search going. And, after two millennia keeping himself company, music has become a hobby of his. He's begun to enjoy the challenges various jobs can offer him, testing him on multiple levels, for things like observation, information gathering, and so on. He’s become adept at playing many instruments through time, having to keep himself from going insane. His current main instrument is the guitar, loving the variety of sounds he can play, the soothing tones he can bring to himself, or the adrenaline surging powerhouses for the crowds he might play for. He generally prefers to play slow melodies for himself, but does not mind playing the faster more metal songs for crowds to earn himself some money, not minding in the least, and even enjoying the attention to a degree. One of his favourite things however, is meeting new people, preferably females of course. He loves learning everything he can from someone new, having someone different to talk to for a change, and someone else to hang out with, maybe even have a short term relationship with. With this weird compulsion, he's met a few interesting people in history, his favourite being Musashi Miyamoto, the legendary samurai, whom he studied under for a fair while, until his death. He learned much from his mentor and friend, and become as close to a true disciple of his as ever there was, and left his company with a sword his master had crafted for him specially as a gift, though to this day he has drawn it only once, in a sparring match with a young vampiress named Alora.
His main dislikes are his brother, of course, nosy people and loud noises. He’s hated his brother since he murdered their family and turned him, leaving him to suffer for eternity, and spends his life trying to find and kill his brother. He doesn’t like talking about his past really, or anything to do with him, so people that get to nosy generally get hurt or blown away by him, refusing to answer any questions. If he wants, he’ll offer the info, he doesn’t like being pestered. Most often than not however, he’ll only offer the info if you are a close friend, very few of which he’s had over the years, preffering to distance himself as much as possible from any actual relationships, knowing that he could up and leave at anytime, and it wouldn’t be fair to the person he might be with. He’s had a few relationships, but always making it clear that he wouldn’t stay at the very beginning, and they had always accepted it. He’s never had a long term relationship, never having really looked for one, and he doesn’t even really think he will ever have one. He also really hates loud noises, coming from a much simpler and quieter time, all the noise and bustle of people today bother him, but he makes it to concerts just fine, as it’s localized. He does tend to avoid cities as best as he can though. To him, the noise is just an irritant more than any debilitating weakness, because it makes it hard for him to think, concentrate or even read, unable to hear his own thoughts. This just helps to contribute to the rash and chaotic behaviour of his life. He's also come to become somewhat biased against men. Most men he's met in his life have been egotistical, arrogant, pig headed idiots, and the root of all problems, some of which he was forced to step in with, like world wars one and two. As such, and with the many incidents involving men as he hit on women, he's become distrustful, generally spacing himself from them, not wanting to bother with their stupidity, and tired of always ending up in fights with them. Because of these many incidents, they've become one of his biggest dislikes in his immortality.
His natural flaws are a result of his personality. He’s obsessive, determined to hunt down and kill his brother, thinking no further than that. This part of his life has carried over into his normal life as well sometimes, like if he takes a liking to something. He’ll devote much time and energy into it, studying and learning everything he can about it, not resting until he’s satisfied. There has only been many such instances, taking a sudden fancy to something, music at first, starting with instruments, then gear and so on, histories and geography as well, enjoying traveling now, learning everything he absolutely can. He’s also incredibly impulsive, never really bothering to think anything through, he just acts, and takes it as it comes, rolling with the punches, as opposed to his usual thoughtful and quiet nature. This has gotten him into trouble many times, with people, mostly. Jealous boyfriends, angry knights, really angry rulers, all have never really appreciated his impulsive nature, and in honesty, it was something that he started to do for fun, just to watch peoples reactions to something that they might not be expecting. He had begun to make a game of it, before he had kill on sight warrants placed on him in various countries, deciding that it would be best to just lay low and take it easy for awhile. He’s also completely chaotic, not really caring for rules or laws, this is like his impulsive nature, but on a higher scale. If you make him angry, you stand a good chance of ending up dead, showing clearly his lack of morality. He never follows plans, destroying what ever crosses his path in a frenzy, mostly because plans are doomed to fail from the beginning, mostly because there are many things that can go wrong, wrecking the entire plan altogether. This has become evident in the past, earning him many bloody nicknames, the one he’s the most fond of being, “The Crimson Blade,” liking the ring to it. He does everything he can to avoid slaying women, but he is not above it if the act is required. He’s always been fond of the women, and hates to see them harmed, so he generally leans towards males when feeling angry, slaughtering without remorse or regret. As a result of his chaotic nature, he’s broken many laws of course, never really caring for them anyways, and has been wanted many times throughout history, as a mass-murderer most often, sometimes for petty things like grand theft auto and such. What can he say, he likes the good looking cars. Currently however, he’s living a free life with his real name, no one bothering to connect the dots anymore. His nature has somewhat calmed down, his current nature like that above, living a normal life having truly helped him. He’s been calmed down a lot now days, living a sedate, normal rocker life. Another one of his biggest flaws has been the fact that he's blunt. He'll tell you immediately if he doesn't like you, softening it for women, do to his natural favourment of them, but still making himself clear. This has gotten him into issues in his past, when he's told soldiers and even rulers sometimes, only once, what he thought of them and their practices or beliefs. It ended with him fleeing that part of the world, not returning for a century at least, not wanting to chance running into them again.
Special Abilities:
1. Fighting
2. Performing
3. Vampiric Abilities
4. Gun Smithing
5. Regeneration
6. Pyrokinesis
Summary:
Born to be a soldier, spending many hours each day training, and over two thousand years fighting, he’s become possibly one of the greatest fighters in the world, and it his best ability, being able to use any weapon, and turn anything into a weapon in order to win a fight. There have been numerous occasions where his impulsiveness has gotten him into a fight, and turning whatever he had at hand into a weapon out of it, saving his life, and the lives of those around him, more often than not. This is despite the fact that he rarely wishes to fight of course, trying to outwit his opponent first, resorting to fighting last. He’s also become very good at playing instruments and singing, using it as an innocuous means to earn money, meeting many…friendly, people in the meantime, ensuring that he never has to be alone if he doesn’t wish, though he’s never slept with any of them. He took up performing recently as a means to try and live a normal life, trying to just blend in and finally live peacefully, using it to relax as well. He prefers performing for the females really, loving the attention, always debilitated by a beautiful woman. The men are just annoying to him, always picking fights with him should he happen to smile incorrectly, which incidentally he didn’t know was possible, at their girlfriend, or someone they wanted to date or sleep with. And, of course, as a vampire, he’s inherited all of their abilities; Pheromone control, the enhanced natural attributes, hypnosis and all, using them to help his goal of killing his brother, and for meeting new people if he wishes to. Another extremely useful ability he’s been bestowed with is the ability of regeneration. He discovered this ability in his travels as a fighter, losing a limb in a fight, and much to his surprise, and that of his enemy’s, it grew back before their very eyes. He learned that the ability came with a price however, that he required more blood than usual to make up for the energy lost regrowing his limbs. He’s able to regenerate any wounds almost instantly, and only requires massive amounts of blood more if he has to regenerate most of his body, though it’s slackened over time, and he is able to control himself to only take small doses at a time, to avoid a blood craze in which he kills his victim. Most often, he employs his vampiric abilities when he’s doing a show, getting the crowd pumped up, the women going crazy, the men finally not caring. He’ll use them outside of the job life of course, trying to get info, or good deals on something he wants or needs, not really caring about being immoral and what not. He’ll mainly use them on men, turning their attention away with the hypnosis while he flirts casually with the women. Men generally try to fight him, thinking he’s a weak, punk/emo/goth freak that won’t defend himself, lo and behold their surprise when he beats the crap out of them should he have to. Another specialty of his is gun-smithing, of a sort. He can't actually make the guns, but he's become very good at modifying and tinkering with them, to the extent that he could build a gun from the ground up, making a better gun than what's already on the market for that type. He's become very good at increasing the performance and durability, making them handle easier, less kick, more power, and more liable to last longer. It's become one of his favourite things to do, breaking down and building guns, modifying them, pulling out a small little derringer one shot, and leaving a hole the size of a .50 caliber desert eagle. It was always one of his favourite expressions to see on someone’s face, after a demonstration like that. He's also old enough to have developed a natural regeneration, restoring lost limbs with ease. He must however feed after massive regenerations, as it's somewhat draining on him. His pyrokinesis was woken in him after combating another vampire that used it, who almost truly killed him. In instinctual defense, he found he controlled the flames to save his life. He's now honed the skill to the greatest amount he can control in order to wield it against his brother.
Weapons:
He primarily uses two guns, heavily modified .454 Raging Bulls to be clip fed, rather than the original revolver style. He's also crafted onto the ends of the barrels silver blades, extending downwards for some close quarters combat. Besides these, he's a master with damn near every weapon to grace existence, having been training for over two and a half millenia.
History:
Family Members:
Father: Leonidas (Dead?)
Brother: Michael(Alive)
Birth Place: Sparta
Childhood: He was raised in a rigorous life style, raised being prepared to serve Sparta as a warrior, and spent more time with his father learning to fight, than with his mother learning general education needs.
Transformation: He was turned by his brother as a form of torture, becoming one of the creatures that slaughtered his family at the age of eighteen.
Prey: He drinks from any who won’t miss the blood, willing people only, refusing to fall to the level of his brother, feeding to kill.
Fang Power: His fangs can turn others instead of swapping blood with them.
Other Transformation: He’d bite them, letting his fangs do the work.
History:
Born in the year 498B.C, Dante was raised to be a soldier. His father raised him under a strict physical regime, consisting of exercise, working out, weaponry training, and tactics. This was meant to prepare him for his time training as a Spartan hoplite, and it served him well. His mother was more caring with him, appealing more to the intellectual side, teaching him the general education needs that he’d require. He was a natural, extremely gifted fighter for their age, which means for most ages really, but he had always enjoyed his mothers lessons more.
His father would train him from early morning until mid afternoon, practically driving him into the ground, pushing Dante to the breaking point repeatedly, constantly increasing his limits, pushing him to be better. His mother was more gentle, working with patience should he stumble, challenging him to do better, not forcing him to. He gladly took her challenges with a determination rarely seen in Spartans for anything other than war, and he rose magnificently to every occasion she set forth.
In the late winter of his fourth year, his brother Vergil was born, and his free time became greater than it had been. Before, it had only been a couple days a week, now he had four, and less time training and studying with his mother and father as they raised Vergil. They challenged him greater now when they did spend time together, getting just as much, if not more, out of his raising, despite having to care for a new child. With his new found free time, he spent most of it reading, absorbing all the knowledge that he could grasp, quickly becoming one of the most intelligent children in the city. He would be quick to match wits with anyone willing, fighting as a last resort.
His childhood alone was somewhat rough, not being nearly as big as some of the other children. As thus, some of these bigger children took it on themselves to try and bully him while he spent time alone reading. He would merely smile, quickly outwitting them, or, else failing, he’d just drop them to the dirt, walking away with little to no exertion on his part, depending on how fancy or flamboyant he felt like being when he took them out. He didn’t really pay attention to other children, male or female, and spent most of his time alone, isolated, having no true friends to speak with or spend time playing, acting like a child, with.
At the age of seven, he was taken in for training for the Spartan military, told he’d be in active service until the age of thirty, and in the active reserve until the age of sixty. With the training his father had given him, it was easy to breeze through the Spartan military life, at first, before they put him to the tests of stealth. He was supposed to steal from the Helots without being caught, eliminating any witnesses if needed. He wasn’t used to the stealth aspect, and as such, spent much more time working at the goal than others, though it was merely thought patience. Inevitably, he became as good at the stealth aspect as the other boys his age, and quickly set to exceeding them, becoming a ghost on the streets of his city. He’d never liked having people better than him at anything, and always pushed himself to be better, to exceed his limits, setting new ones, constantly improving.
When he was fifteen, before joining the military groups, his own squad basically, he was free to return home for their annual festival, the Carnea. What he found was nothing but destruction. The home was in chaos, and his family had been slaughtered, with only small limbs left, nothing larger than his arm had survived. His brother was no where to be found, and his father hadn’t even been able to draw his blade. Thus the incident had been even worse, as his father had died unable to defend himself, without honor to redeem him. He fled into the streets, and immediately alerted those that would need to know, as his training had taught him to remain level headed, but after that, he was a little hard to talk to.
This incident hit him hard, and he took up drinking, trying to ignore having his family stripped from him. He was alone in the world again, few friends, no family, no lover. When he was seventeen, his brave king Leonidas led a small group of Spartans to the hot gates, to stop Xerxes. His king and brothers were slain, he was only spared because he was the last of his family, with no sons to carry on his name. The following year, he wasn’t so lucky. The entire army of Sparta was mobilized, working together with the other Greek nations, moving to put an end to Xerxes. It was here, he reunited with his brother.
The phalanx had separated, and all he was left with was his sword and shield, his spear gone. He cut a bloody swathe through Xerxes forces, hacking down any who rose up in front of him. It was in the midst of this, that he saw his brother. “Brother!” he cried, happy to have found his brother at last, cutting his way to him, only to be met with a barrage of emotions and his brothers sword leading the assault. He quickly diverted the blade, his face saying it all. “Hello, brother, long time no see.” He whispers malevolently, striking again. Vincent quickly diverted this one as well, stunned at his brothers betrayal. “Did you see mother and father? Wasn’t it glorious, their deaths? I take great pride in that day.” He cackles evilly.
This revelation hit him harder than the death of his parents, and the disappearance of his brother. Vincent flew into a rage, pressing his brother sorely, always the better fighter. He used every trick at his disposal, his brother beating him back every time, how, he did not know. “You’ll never beat me now brother, I’m too strong for you!” he gloats with glee. As he quickly batted aside Vincent’s strikes, deciding to strike himself, now that the battle had moved away from them. His blade pierced Vincent’s stomach, and blood welled up from his mouth.
“Well well well Helios, it seems, I’m the stronger now. Would you like to know why?” he asks with an evil grin, kicking his fallen brother in the side, “Because I’m a vampire.” He whispers into his ear. “Killing our parents was what was required of me, by my master for changing me and now, you shall become the very thing that murdered your family!” he cackles, lifting his brother, sinking his fangs into his neck. He drained his brothers remaining blood, infusing him with his own tainted blood, the change happening quickly. He drops his brother to the ground, cackling evilly, “Now, fare well brother, may the sun be kind.” He whispers evilly, disappearing into the gloom cackling all the while.
After that incident, Vincent drug himself off to heal, disappearing, listed as dead by his own people. He recovered in time, and began to feed off animals to survive, refusing to take the blood of a human. He spent the next few centuries researching everything he could about vampires, everything that could harm him, or benefit him, everything he needed to survive. He was on his own, with no one to help him, and close to the entire population of the world probably wanting him dead, refusing to find his brother for his aid, seeing him as the most vile creature alive, something to be hated, and killed. He vowed that one day, he’d find and slay his brother in his parents name, and he’d bide his time until then.
It was now the second century B.C, and Vincent was resuming his travels, wandering around, absorbing as much knowledge as he could, trying to find his brother. In 190B.C, he found himself in Rome, bearing witness to the solar eclipse, just as awed by it as the rest, never having seen on before, probably because he’d been holed away in another library reading, as he did for most of his life. Shortly after that, in 168B.C, he bore witness to a lunar eclipse, not nearly as in awe as the first time with the solar eclipse, but still impressed. It was something he was happy to have been graced by the gods to see, something he’d be sure to remember to his dying day. With the rest of the century, he saw a few wars, Romes conquest of Macedonia being the highlight, before this century closed, and ushered in the first century B.C.
With the first century B.C, he mostly found himself caught up in Romes civil wars, forced to fight to defend himself, holing up in the libraries until the fighting was over, but always remaining armed, regardless of the year. Rome underwent many changes, ending the century as the Roman empire, and Dante couldn’t help but feel proud to have been at the hub of such activity that would later go down in history. He didn’t do much this century, mainly searching Rome for his brother, learning the various instruments that existed for the time period, doing graveyard shifts for various construction jobs, before disappearing once again.
With the first century A.D, he was wandering once more, reading everything that crossed his path, carrying some books with him, becoming his pillows really, having little else to his name. He saw the death of Augustus Ceasar, the first roman emperor, and his successors rise, his nephew Tiberius. He saw the rise and fall of Jesus of Nazareth, lamenting the death of a good man at the hands of the very men he professed to help. He witnessed the Jewish-Roman war, and the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, lost amidst his texts once more, still having no sign of his brother.
He began the second century A.D, for him, working on Hadrians wall for ten years, from 122-132A.D, having wandered north in the hopes of hearing some whisper of his brothers existence. From there, he wandered for another thirty some odd years, until the first and second Marcommi wars erupted, where he sat back and watched from a safe location, wondering why man was so determined to destroy itself, becoming slightly philosophical. He spent some time this century with Ptolemy, the greek astronomer, astrologer and geographer, star watching more than anything, enjoying the intellectual debates they had together, mostly about natural or divine influence with the gods. He was extremely sad when he went, holding his own private funeral for one of his few friends across the ages, one of the few people to know what he was.
With third and fourth century A.D., he was wandering the earth, not staying in any one area, not bothering to be wrapped up in the history that had been proceeding. He was now studying the geography and culture of the earth. He wasn’t interested in the petty wars men played against each other so much these centuries, deciding to pursue something for his intellect instead. He spent much time studying the cultures alongside them, learning the languages as he went, enjoying the challenge it brought him, relating languages to each other, more for fun than anything, testing himself, living as much a normal life as he could during these centuries.
With the fifth century A.D., wars were on in full once more, and Vincent was watching once more. He stayed on the sidelines, deciding not to take part unless he felt he had a personal stake in the matter. He witnessed the fall of Romes western frontier, and it’s withdrawl from Britain, led by Constantine, wondering why humans fought amongst each other so much. Shrugging to himself, he shouldered the instruments he’d been learning while watching all this unfold and continued down the road, smiling as he played a merry tune, ignoring the travesties of man, ignoring the death and chaos around him, blissfully ignorant.
With the turn of the century, Vincent found himself in Ireland, deciding to spend his century here, luckily for him. This was the century of the plague, sweeping across the Byzantine empire and southeast Asia, claiming more lives than any recorded plague or war to date. He was oblivious to the kingdoms and empires that fell, of King Arthurs last battle even. He was studying the Irish now, traveling the land, learning it’s culture and history, the Old Irish language that developed, and even the local instruments, playing music for some if they wished, mostly the children. Old irish hymns and songs today, were brought about around that time, and he even had a helping hand in a few.
With the seventh century A.D, he had returned to Alexandria, reading in the library there, the worlds greatest collection of knowledge at the time. He made note of the Islamic transition from Mecca to Medina, the nations falling, the crumbling of the Eastern Roman Empire, and the Muslim conquests. In 642A.D, he was forced out into the world once more, grumbling as he slipped away from Alexandria, the great library being burnt to the ground once more. He’d return eventually, but not until the great library was rebuilt and well stocked. He’d been fond of the place, and lamented its loss, cursing man kind and it’s stupidity. With the falling of this century, he traveled to Asia, specifically Japan, deciding to study the militaristic people that reminded him of his homeland.
With the eighth century passing him by, he spent the years in Japan, once again studying. This time, the religion of it’s people, their culture and language, their social classes, everything. He studied Buddhism, Taoism and everything that appealed to him, and his study of human behaviour. He began marveling at how they, and he at one point, could blindly follow that which they could not see, unable to fathom the reasoning behind it, other than it had become a social conditioning from being a child, and that they eventually knew no better. This proved to be one of his more fascinating centuries, one where he had a lot more research done, noting the few changes that happened in the country. The only real changes were the institution of the Taiho code, and the emperor moving to modern day Kyoto.
The ninth century was by far a more bloody one for him. He had returned to Europe, fighting secretly alongside it’s people, helping them in their hour of need. The Norse Vikings had begun full scale attacks on Europe, and it was something he felt strongly about indeed. He slew many Vikings until about midway through the century, where he withdrew from the fight. He had deemed it fruitless, to try to stop these Vikings, foolish to think that one man could change things. He wondered at himself now, about how one so in lack of understanding for the reasoning behind wars, could get caught up in it yet. The rest of the century passed quickly and quietly for him, retreating into solace to think and relax, and to reflect.
With the tenth century, he retreated from Europe, the Vikings settling into northern France to become Normans. He turned back to Asia, to China specifically, and began his study of their culture and people. He was also at another groundbreaking point in history. In 931, the Chinese became the first to use gunpowder in retaliation to the burning of their fleet, and Vincent became enamored by the firearms present, stealing a few for study on his own. He began to fiddle and tweak guns, creating better models as he went, but only for himself, never introducing them to the people. The tenth century passed quickly for him, caught up in his latest fascination.
With the eleventh century, he returned once more to Japan, this time, taking the time to study it’s martial arts, as a way of relaxation, more than a way to benefit himself as a fighter. He spends the next three hundred years here, mastering the martial arts that develop, enjoying just the physical exercise that it offered him, the peace of mind where all he had to do was just concentrate on the next move, flowing gracefully from form to form, stance to stance. This became a daily ritual for him, practicing one style each day, starting in the morning at sunrise, well sunset really, mentally preparing himself for the nights ahead. After these few hundred years passed, he resumed his wanderings, and his search for his brother.
With the start of the fourteenth century, he’d made his way to Europe, back to Italy, for the beginnings of the Renaissance, enjoying himself, seeing it as a type of vacation for himself. He spent time watching the culture unfold, indulging himself in the wine and food, peddling himself as a minstrel for the nobility sponsored parties at night. This was when he first began to sing as well, and quickly became good at it with his acute hearing, detecting even the slightest hint of when he was out of tune. He grew fond of the mandolin during this age, and became very popular to have at parties, being granted many gifts, and much wealth, which he accumulated and stashed like he did all his wealth, keeping just enough on him to get by.
The fifteenth century was a little more active for him, ending up in the tail end of the hundreds year war, working for Joan of Arc, though only she knew that he was working for her, and knew what he was. He had taken a liking to her, helping her out and protecting her as the years went by, before bidding her a fond farewell, and returning to Japan to see what changes had happened. He found himself embroiled in the Sengoku era of civil war in Japan, becoming stuck there, unable to find a boat off the island until the wars end, in 1615, almost two hundred years later. It wasn’t a completely terrible time for him however, as more martial arts arose, something more for him to study and learn, another style to practice, another way to relax. He took no sides in the war, but was attacked by both, seeing him as foreigner, and believing him to be in league with their enemy.
With the end of the Sengoku era, his first thoughts were to leave the alone to determine what else had been happening in the world. While on his way, he met a samurai by the name of Musashi Miyamoto, and decided to prolong his stay, becoming friends with Musashi. He studied under this unique samurai for the remainder of his life, ending in 1645. He studied his way of fighting and swordsmanship, his philosophy, and was graced with Musashis self-invented technique, the swallow cut. He stayed on to attend his masters funeral, before turning his back to the land of the rising sun, and leaving the island once more, traveling the world over once more, taking in the newest changes.
It was the end of the Sengoku era, and the start of the Tokugawa Shogunate, that he made one of the biggest blunders of his life. He had been in the rice market, having a special seller that he was paying double to, to get it that late at night, stocking up on food before he left for the continent, when he had a chance encounter with Ieyasu Tokugawa. He didn't recognize the ruler, and Ieyasu had addressed him as a foreigner, asking his opinion on the land, it's current ruler, and it's cultural laws. Unwittingly, he stumbled ahead, putting to him bluntly, that he thought Ieyasu an upstart who just wanted a taste of power and to dominate his own people, someone who should have just respected the natural order the country had until then. Shrugging he began to turn away, when Ieyasu revealed himself to Vincent, and ordered his guards to take him. Grinning madly, and with a sarcastic salute, he took off into the night, with a death warrant for him ringing in the night behind him. It was about then that he thought it best to leave Japan for awhile.
In the early eighteenth century, Vincent was still roaming, dodging the various wars that popped up, before stopping for awhile in 1717. It was this year that he stopped to help a scientist, furthering his own intellectual pursuits. He was working on a new invention with Edmond Halley, the diving bell, and successfully tested it for him at a depth of 55 feet. After this successful test, he left, leaving all the credit to Edmond, caring only for the discovery, more than the credit. He only wished he could have been in something more interesting. After that, he continued on his way, winding across the world, trying to find something to interest him. With the close of the century, he found it. The Rosetta stone found by Napoleons troops.
Though never directly involved with the stone, it kept his interest throughout the nineteenth century. After that, he decided that the place to be, was in the newly emerging nation of America. He thought it in his best interest, from an intellectual stand-point, to be at the origins of a nation. He spent most of his time indirectly involving himself with the people, hunting down food and leaving it for them if they didn’t seem liable to make it, observing all the while. In 1836, he watched the troops ride off for their final stand at the Alamo, a chord struck within him for their loyalty to state and countrymen, something that he hadn’t truly seen since his days as a hoplite warrior, a little more than two millennia before hand.
In the latter half of the century, he was watching the industrial revolution sweeping the earth, reorienting himself with the new technologies. He began to enjoy himself, dabbling with the new gadgets and gizmos that the mortals were putting out, grinning like a kid in a candy store when the newest guns came out. For someone who was mostly a pacifist, he loved him some weapons. He quickly became proficient with the latest guns, tweaking and modifying them himself for more power, and better performance. He was a Spartan, he needed things that could tear something apart easily. He was regretting the loss of swordsmanship, the only real warfare, as no skill was really involved with guns. To even the odds in a fight now, you had to have something that made a bigger hole. But as he didn’t exactly have access to missiles, so he settled for tweaking his own guns.
Towards the end of the century, 1888, he returned once more to Europe, this time on buisness. He was tracking a serial killer known as Jack the Ripper. The mans methods were clinical, with surgical precision on his attacks. It seemed too precise, too brutal for any human. He felt confident that it was an immortal, thus his ability to escape the human police force, which was extremely ineffective at the time. He put alot of effort into the tracking of this murderer, going over every minute detail of the crimes, looking for any hints, but finding none. It led him to the conclusion that it had to have been his brother, the only one to ever evade him, and to remain untraceable, unless he wished to be found at some point.
With the rise of the twentieth century, his hopes fell. With his time on the planet, he knew something was on the rise, and humanity did not seem ready for it. With the industrial revolution, humanity was becoming lazier as their labor saving devices became more and more prevalent, and his fears were justified when World War One erupted into total chaos. He immediately moved to where all the fighting began, knowing that this wasn’t a fight he could shy away from. He worked in secret, as he always had, eliminating scouting patrols, small encampments, anything to aid the good guys.
It was on a mission such as those that he met his brother once more. The mission was supposed to be easier for him, with heavy rainfall, most soldiers were inside, and would be made short work of with his borrowed explosives. He had just been on his way to the encampment, when his brother cut him off. With a brief exchange of words, they threw themselves at each other, foregoing guns for swords and fists, relying on skill more than anything. They fought extensively, both refusing to give in, before Vincent gained the upperhand. His brother quickly realized this, and was forced to retreat, calling an enemy scouting party over to occupy Vincent while he made off.
Vincent made short work of the group, and was forced to try and find his brother once more. He continued fighting throughout the war, being injured multiple times, nothing life threatening, feeding off the animals he could capture to heal himself. The war ended after a few years of bloody combat, and the world was rocked by how horrible it was, the amount of dead that lay in the field. This was the war to end all wars, until it was taken up once more, twenty years later.
After the massive war, Vincent retreated into the shadows of history, prowling the continents, his old rage and anger resurfaced again. His senses were alert for any hint of his brother, waiting for the day that he could finally avenge his parents. He found only hints and whispers off his passing, nothing that led him to his brother, so he was forced to bide his time once more, to wait seething for his next opportunity. That opportunity came with world war two, something that Vincent knew his brother wouldn’t stay away from, something that would lead him to his brother.
With World War Two brought into existence, he returned once more to Europe, cursing the stupidity and pigheadedness that men can have sometimes. He once again worked in secret, alone, as always, doing the same thing as the first world war, eliminating only small encampments, taking out soldiers where he could. Once again, his brother ambushed him, and once again, he started out on the defensive, forced to try and take the lead from his brother, who had the advantage of being an older vampire on him.
Their bout was short and bloody, both taking minor to moderate wounds, the tolls adding up, until his brother was forced to retreat once more. Despite being the older vampire, Vincent was the more skilled one. He was a prodigal fighter, his parents raised him to be an extremely good fighter, the Spartan military built off that, and his millennia on the earth brought him many more techniques and tactics to use. He had one technique he was saving to use for his brother though, the swallow cut that his master Musashi had taught him, waiting until he knew he could deliver the final blow. Not even an immortal would recover from it.
This fight however, his brother retreated with more grace than fleeing into the night, crippling Dante, by shooting him in the knee caps with a concealed pistol he had liberated off a German soldier. He merely walked away, laughing maniacally, gloating over the fact that Vincent had yet been unable to kill him, despite being the older brother and the better fighter. Vincent was forced to drag himself off, holing himself up in a dark hole until the sun rose and set again, his leg finally healing, where he once more dropped off people’s radars.
After that, he grumblingly walked away from his pursuit, trusting in the fates to deliver his brother to him once more. He took up an instrument again, the guitar, and began working his way through the years, playing the guitar to get by. He wandered his way back to America, slipping through the authorities with ease, laughing all the while. Humans could be so inefficient and so inattentive sometimes. He took up localizing himself to Vice City, playing at the club on and off, traveling America for awhile at random intervals. It was on one such travel that he came across a ruined tower in the middle of nowhere. Being the curious person he is, he naturally went in headfirst, being sucked up and thrown onto Genesis. He's been on the planet for several months now, mostly wandering to and fro, debating on where to settle down, and wondering if perhaps it was the gods way of giving him the perfect battleground against his brother. Afterall, all reality was at war here, why not him too?
Aliases: Vincent Valtieri
Age: 2532
Gender: Male
Species: Vampire
Alignment: Neutral
Canon or Original: Original
Date of Birth: 498B.C
Place of Birth: Sparta
Physical Appearance:
Hair: Black
Eyes: Crimson
Height: 6’6’’
Marks: None
Race: Caucasian
Skin Tone:Tan
Body Type: Athletic
Clothing Style: Modern, leather outfit.
Footwear:
Boots
Summary:
Due to his height, he tends to stand out in crowds, though not by much thankfully. With a 6'6'' frame, he felt it best to stay in shape over the millennia, to keep a good body, as opposed to a gangly one, fairly confident it attracted the women better. He works out almost everyday to keep it, practicing his various forms of martial arts that he's picked up over the years, relaxing and staying fit. The most noticeable thing about him to people however, is his brilliant crimson eyes, a rare occurrence among people. He's become very fond of flashing them at any beautiful women, giving them a wink before trying to impress them in one of his myriad of ways. Even after two millennia without sun, his body has kept itself tanned, mostly because it's genetic for him. His whole race was one that had a golden bronze tan, and he inherited it from his parents, and even the lack of sunlight haven't eliminated it, giving him that in shape and fit look that he uses to attract women, as opposed to pale pasty nerd. His lips, contrary to classic vampire myth of crimson, are a light pink, an average color for people, his overall body giving no hint to his unique condition. His sense of clothing has changed over the years, and he has currently settled into modern punk/goth styles. He wears dark jeans, a tight black t-shirt and double belts on his waist, when not trying to stick out too much. However, when wearing what he prefers, he has on tight, form-fitting leathers. He has a leather shirt of sorts, cut high enough to leave his muscled stomach and upper arms bare, with tight leather pants. He also has on leather vambraces, running from his palms to his elbows, with the material of his clothes cut thick enough to act as light leather armor as well, providing him minor protection leaving him mobile still. He wears either black Vans or combat boots for fighting or hanging out, depending on his mood. He’ll sometimes wear more than that if he feels like blending in, or going to a concert, just to not stick out as much, or to have more random items on his body to use in a fight. He’s almost always seen in his normal leather outfit, as that’s what he’s most comfortable in, and used to, wearing leather armor throughout his history, mainly to stay warm more than protected. Should he be out to formal occasions, a rare occurrence, he’ll wear nice looking clothing, but never a tuxedo, it’s always been too formal for him. He’d wear slacks and a dress shirt, never a tie, again, too formal.
Personality:
Likes:
1.Reading
2. Tracking
3. Playing Music
4. Meeting New People
Dislikes:
1. His brother
2. Nosy people
3. Loud noises
4. Most Guys
Flaws:
1. Obsessive
2. Impulsive
3. Chaotic
4. Blunt
Summary:
Born and raised to fight, one would naturally assume that it would be one of his favourite hobbies, but he prefers reading more than anything. Despite being born a Spartan, he prefers the mental challenges he might find in literature, more than the physical challenges of a fight, though he will fight if he feels strongly one way or another. He can be found alone late at night sitting alone somewhere with another massive book in his hands, deeply absorbed in the text, ignoring everything else around him. He’s spent his two millennia searching for his brother, becoming a strength and weakness of sorts. With the experience he’s developed by spending two and a half millennia searching for him, he’s able to track down almost anything, knowing the right questions to ask, and the being able to think as required by the situation. It’s helped him a few times along the way, playing the P.I. to earn some money to keep his own personal search going. And, after two millennia keeping himself company, music has become a hobby of his. He's begun to enjoy the challenges various jobs can offer him, testing him on multiple levels, for things like observation, information gathering, and so on. He’s become adept at playing many instruments through time, having to keep himself from going insane. His current main instrument is the guitar, loving the variety of sounds he can play, the soothing tones he can bring to himself, or the adrenaline surging powerhouses for the crowds he might play for. He generally prefers to play slow melodies for himself, but does not mind playing the faster more metal songs for crowds to earn himself some money, not minding in the least, and even enjoying the attention to a degree. One of his favourite things however, is meeting new people, preferably females of course. He loves learning everything he can from someone new, having someone different to talk to for a change, and someone else to hang out with, maybe even have a short term relationship with. With this weird compulsion, he's met a few interesting people in history, his favourite being Musashi Miyamoto, the legendary samurai, whom he studied under for a fair while, until his death. He learned much from his mentor and friend, and become as close to a true disciple of his as ever there was, and left his company with a sword his master had crafted for him specially as a gift, though to this day he has drawn it only once, in a sparring match with a young vampiress named Alora.
His main dislikes are his brother, of course, nosy people and loud noises. He’s hated his brother since he murdered their family and turned him, leaving him to suffer for eternity, and spends his life trying to find and kill his brother. He doesn’t like talking about his past really, or anything to do with him, so people that get to nosy generally get hurt or blown away by him, refusing to answer any questions. If he wants, he’ll offer the info, he doesn’t like being pestered. Most often than not however, he’ll only offer the info if you are a close friend, very few of which he’s had over the years, preffering to distance himself as much as possible from any actual relationships, knowing that he could up and leave at anytime, and it wouldn’t be fair to the person he might be with. He’s had a few relationships, but always making it clear that he wouldn’t stay at the very beginning, and they had always accepted it. He’s never had a long term relationship, never having really looked for one, and he doesn’t even really think he will ever have one. He also really hates loud noises, coming from a much simpler and quieter time, all the noise and bustle of people today bother him, but he makes it to concerts just fine, as it’s localized. He does tend to avoid cities as best as he can though. To him, the noise is just an irritant more than any debilitating weakness, because it makes it hard for him to think, concentrate or even read, unable to hear his own thoughts. This just helps to contribute to the rash and chaotic behaviour of his life. He's also come to become somewhat biased against men. Most men he's met in his life have been egotistical, arrogant, pig headed idiots, and the root of all problems, some of which he was forced to step in with, like world wars one and two. As such, and with the many incidents involving men as he hit on women, he's become distrustful, generally spacing himself from them, not wanting to bother with their stupidity, and tired of always ending up in fights with them. Because of these many incidents, they've become one of his biggest dislikes in his immortality.
His natural flaws are a result of his personality. He’s obsessive, determined to hunt down and kill his brother, thinking no further than that. This part of his life has carried over into his normal life as well sometimes, like if he takes a liking to something. He’ll devote much time and energy into it, studying and learning everything he can about it, not resting until he’s satisfied. There has only been many such instances, taking a sudden fancy to something, music at first, starting with instruments, then gear and so on, histories and geography as well, enjoying traveling now, learning everything he absolutely can. He’s also incredibly impulsive, never really bothering to think anything through, he just acts, and takes it as it comes, rolling with the punches, as opposed to his usual thoughtful and quiet nature. This has gotten him into trouble many times, with people, mostly. Jealous boyfriends, angry knights, really angry rulers, all have never really appreciated his impulsive nature, and in honesty, it was something that he started to do for fun, just to watch peoples reactions to something that they might not be expecting. He had begun to make a game of it, before he had kill on sight warrants placed on him in various countries, deciding that it would be best to just lay low and take it easy for awhile. He’s also completely chaotic, not really caring for rules or laws, this is like his impulsive nature, but on a higher scale. If you make him angry, you stand a good chance of ending up dead, showing clearly his lack of morality. He never follows plans, destroying what ever crosses his path in a frenzy, mostly because plans are doomed to fail from the beginning, mostly because there are many things that can go wrong, wrecking the entire plan altogether. This has become evident in the past, earning him many bloody nicknames, the one he’s the most fond of being, “The Crimson Blade,” liking the ring to it. He does everything he can to avoid slaying women, but he is not above it if the act is required. He’s always been fond of the women, and hates to see them harmed, so he generally leans towards males when feeling angry, slaughtering without remorse or regret. As a result of his chaotic nature, he’s broken many laws of course, never really caring for them anyways, and has been wanted many times throughout history, as a mass-murderer most often, sometimes for petty things like grand theft auto and such. What can he say, he likes the good looking cars. Currently however, he’s living a free life with his real name, no one bothering to connect the dots anymore. His nature has somewhat calmed down, his current nature like that above, living a normal life having truly helped him. He’s been calmed down a lot now days, living a sedate, normal rocker life. Another one of his biggest flaws has been the fact that he's blunt. He'll tell you immediately if he doesn't like you, softening it for women, do to his natural favourment of them, but still making himself clear. This has gotten him into issues in his past, when he's told soldiers and even rulers sometimes, only once, what he thought of them and their practices or beliefs. It ended with him fleeing that part of the world, not returning for a century at least, not wanting to chance running into them again.
Special Abilities:
1. Fighting
2. Performing
3. Vampiric Abilities
4. Gun Smithing
5. Regeneration
6. Pyrokinesis
Summary:
Born to be a soldier, spending many hours each day training, and over two thousand years fighting, he’s become possibly one of the greatest fighters in the world, and it his best ability, being able to use any weapon, and turn anything into a weapon in order to win a fight. There have been numerous occasions where his impulsiveness has gotten him into a fight, and turning whatever he had at hand into a weapon out of it, saving his life, and the lives of those around him, more often than not. This is despite the fact that he rarely wishes to fight of course, trying to outwit his opponent first, resorting to fighting last. He’s also become very good at playing instruments and singing, using it as an innocuous means to earn money, meeting many…friendly, people in the meantime, ensuring that he never has to be alone if he doesn’t wish, though he’s never slept with any of them. He took up performing recently as a means to try and live a normal life, trying to just blend in and finally live peacefully, using it to relax as well. He prefers performing for the females really, loving the attention, always debilitated by a beautiful woman. The men are just annoying to him, always picking fights with him should he happen to smile incorrectly, which incidentally he didn’t know was possible, at their girlfriend, or someone they wanted to date or sleep with. And, of course, as a vampire, he’s inherited all of their abilities; Pheromone control, the enhanced natural attributes, hypnosis and all, using them to help his goal of killing his brother, and for meeting new people if he wishes to. Another extremely useful ability he’s been bestowed with is the ability of regeneration. He discovered this ability in his travels as a fighter, losing a limb in a fight, and much to his surprise, and that of his enemy’s, it grew back before their very eyes. He learned that the ability came with a price however, that he required more blood than usual to make up for the energy lost regrowing his limbs. He’s able to regenerate any wounds almost instantly, and only requires massive amounts of blood more if he has to regenerate most of his body, though it’s slackened over time, and he is able to control himself to only take small doses at a time, to avoid a blood craze in which he kills his victim. Most often, he employs his vampiric abilities when he’s doing a show, getting the crowd pumped up, the women going crazy, the men finally not caring. He’ll use them outside of the job life of course, trying to get info, or good deals on something he wants or needs, not really caring about being immoral and what not. He’ll mainly use them on men, turning their attention away with the hypnosis while he flirts casually with the women. Men generally try to fight him, thinking he’s a weak, punk/emo/goth freak that won’t defend himself, lo and behold their surprise when he beats the crap out of them should he have to. Another specialty of his is gun-smithing, of a sort. He can't actually make the guns, but he's become very good at modifying and tinkering with them, to the extent that he could build a gun from the ground up, making a better gun than what's already on the market for that type. He's become very good at increasing the performance and durability, making them handle easier, less kick, more power, and more liable to last longer. It's become one of his favourite things to do, breaking down and building guns, modifying them, pulling out a small little derringer one shot, and leaving a hole the size of a .50 caliber desert eagle. It was always one of his favourite expressions to see on someone’s face, after a demonstration like that. He's also old enough to have developed a natural regeneration, restoring lost limbs with ease. He must however feed after massive regenerations, as it's somewhat draining on him. His pyrokinesis was woken in him after combating another vampire that used it, who almost truly killed him. In instinctual defense, he found he controlled the flames to save his life. He's now honed the skill to the greatest amount he can control in order to wield it against his brother.
Weapons:
He primarily uses two guns, heavily modified .454 Raging Bulls to be clip fed, rather than the original revolver style. He's also crafted onto the ends of the barrels silver blades, extending downwards for some close quarters combat. Besides these, he's a master with damn near every weapon to grace existence, having been training for over two and a half millenia.
History:
Family Members:
Father: Leonidas (Dead?)
Brother: Michael(Alive)
Birth Place: Sparta
Childhood: He was raised in a rigorous life style, raised being prepared to serve Sparta as a warrior, and spent more time with his father learning to fight, than with his mother learning general education needs.
Transformation: He was turned by his brother as a form of torture, becoming one of the creatures that slaughtered his family at the age of eighteen.
Prey: He drinks from any who won’t miss the blood, willing people only, refusing to fall to the level of his brother, feeding to kill.
Fang Power: His fangs can turn others instead of swapping blood with them.
Other Transformation: He’d bite them, letting his fangs do the work.
History:
Born in the year 498B.C, Dante was raised to be a soldier. His father raised him under a strict physical regime, consisting of exercise, working out, weaponry training, and tactics. This was meant to prepare him for his time training as a Spartan hoplite, and it served him well. His mother was more caring with him, appealing more to the intellectual side, teaching him the general education needs that he’d require. He was a natural, extremely gifted fighter for their age, which means for most ages really, but he had always enjoyed his mothers lessons more.
His father would train him from early morning until mid afternoon, practically driving him into the ground, pushing Dante to the breaking point repeatedly, constantly increasing his limits, pushing him to be better. His mother was more gentle, working with patience should he stumble, challenging him to do better, not forcing him to. He gladly took her challenges with a determination rarely seen in Spartans for anything other than war, and he rose magnificently to every occasion she set forth.
In the late winter of his fourth year, his brother Vergil was born, and his free time became greater than it had been. Before, it had only been a couple days a week, now he had four, and less time training and studying with his mother and father as they raised Vergil. They challenged him greater now when they did spend time together, getting just as much, if not more, out of his raising, despite having to care for a new child. With his new found free time, he spent most of it reading, absorbing all the knowledge that he could grasp, quickly becoming one of the most intelligent children in the city. He would be quick to match wits with anyone willing, fighting as a last resort.
His childhood alone was somewhat rough, not being nearly as big as some of the other children. As thus, some of these bigger children took it on themselves to try and bully him while he spent time alone reading. He would merely smile, quickly outwitting them, or, else failing, he’d just drop them to the dirt, walking away with little to no exertion on his part, depending on how fancy or flamboyant he felt like being when he took them out. He didn’t really pay attention to other children, male or female, and spent most of his time alone, isolated, having no true friends to speak with or spend time playing, acting like a child, with.
At the age of seven, he was taken in for training for the Spartan military, told he’d be in active service until the age of thirty, and in the active reserve until the age of sixty. With the training his father had given him, it was easy to breeze through the Spartan military life, at first, before they put him to the tests of stealth. He was supposed to steal from the Helots without being caught, eliminating any witnesses if needed. He wasn’t used to the stealth aspect, and as such, spent much more time working at the goal than others, though it was merely thought patience. Inevitably, he became as good at the stealth aspect as the other boys his age, and quickly set to exceeding them, becoming a ghost on the streets of his city. He’d never liked having people better than him at anything, and always pushed himself to be better, to exceed his limits, setting new ones, constantly improving.
When he was fifteen, before joining the military groups, his own squad basically, he was free to return home for their annual festival, the Carnea. What he found was nothing but destruction. The home was in chaos, and his family had been slaughtered, with only small limbs left, nothing larger than his arm had survived. His brother was no where to be found, and his father hadn’t even been able to draw his blade. Thus the incident had been even worse, as his father had died unable to defend himself, without honor to redeem him. He fled into the streets, and immediately alerted those that would need to know, as his training had taught him to remain level headed, but after that, he was a little hard to talk to.
This incident hit him hard, and he took up drinking, trying to ignore having his family stripped from him. He was alone in the world again, few friends, no family, no lover. When he was seventeen, his brave king Leonidas led a small group of Spartans to the hot gates, to stop Xerxes. His king and brothers were slain, he was only spared because he was the last of his family, with no sons to carry on his name. The following year, he wasn’t so lucky. The entire army of Sparta was mobilized, working together with the other Greek nations, moving to put an end to Xerxes. It was here, he reunited with his brother.
The phalanx had separated, and all he was left with was his sword and shield, his spear gone. He cut a bloody swathe through Xerxes forces, hacking down any who rose up in front of him. It was in the midst of this, that he saw his brother. “Brother!” he cried, happy to have found his brother at last, cutting his way to him, only to be met with a barrage of emotions and his brothers sword leading the assault. He quickly diverted the blade, his face saying it all. “Hello, brother, long time no see.” He whispers malevolently, striking again. Vincent quickly diverted this one as well, stunned at his brothers betrayal. “Did you see mother and father? Wasn’t it glorious, their deaths? I take great pride in that day.” He cackles evilly.
This revelation hit him harder than the death of his parents, and the disappearance of his brother. Vincent flew into a rage, pressing his brother sorely, always the better fighter. He used every trick at his disposal, his brother beating him back every time, how, he did not know. “You’ll never beat me now brother, I’m too strong for you!” he gloats with glee. As he quickly batted aside Vincent’s strikes, deciding to strike himself, now that the battle had moved away from them. His blade pierced Vincent’s stomach, and blood welled up from his mouth.
“Well well well Helios, it seems, I’m the stronger now. Would you like to know why?” he asks with an evil grin, kicking his fallen brother in the side, “Because I’m a vampire.” He whispers into his ear. “Killing our parents was what was required of me, by my master for changing me and now, you shall become the very thing that murdered your family!” he cackles, lifting his brother, sinking his fangs into his neck. He drained his brothers remaining blood, infusing him with his own tainted blood, the change happening quickly. He drops his brother to the ground, cackling evilly, “Now, fare well brother, may the sun be kind.” He whispers evilly, disappearing into the gloom cackling all the while.
After that incident, Vincent drug himself off to heal, disappearing, listed as dead by his own people. He recovered in time, and began to feed off animals to survive, refusing to take the blood of a human. He spent the next few centuries researching everything he could about vampires, everything that could harm him, or benefit him, everything he needed to survive. He was on his own, with no one to help him, and close to the entire population of the world probably wanting him dead, refusing to find his brother for his aid, seeing him as the most vile creature alive, something to be hated, and killed. He vowed that one day, he’d find and slay his brother in his parents name, and he’d bide his time until then.
It was now the second century B.C, and Vincent was resuming his travels, wandering around, absorbing as much knowledge as he could, trying to find his brother. In 190B.C, he found himself in Rome, bearing witness to the solar eclipse, just as awed by it as the rest, never having seen on before, probably because he’d been holed away in another library reading, as he did for most of his life. Shortly after that, in 168B.C, he bore witness to a lunar eclipse, not nearly as in awe as the first time with the solar eclipse, but still impressed. It was something he was happy to have been graced by the gods to see, something he’d be sure to remember to his dying day. With the rest of the century, he saw a few wars, Romes conquest of Macedonia being the highlight, before this century closed, and ushered in the first century B.C.
With the first century B.C, he mostly found himself caught up in Romes civil wars, forced to fight to defend himself, holing up in the libraries until the fighting was over, but always remaining armed, regardless of the year. Rome underwent many changes, ending the century as the Roman empire, and Dante couldn’t help but feel proud to have been at the hub of such activity that would later go down in history. He didn’t do much this century, mainly searching Rome for his brother, learning the various instruments that existed for the time period, doing graveyard shifts for various construction jobs, before disappearing once again.
With the first century A.D, he was wandering once more, reading everything that crossed his path, carrying some books with him, becoming his pillows really, having little else to his name. He saw the death of Augustus Ceasar, the first roman emperor, and his successors rise, his nephew Tiberius. He saw the rise and fall of Jesus of Nazareth, lamenting the death of a good man at the hands of the very men he professed to help. He witnessed the Jewish-Roman war, and the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, lost amidst his texts once more, still having no sign of his brother.
He began the second century A.D, for him, working on Hadrians wall for ten years, from 122-132A.D, having wandered north in the hopes of hearing some whisper of his brothers existence. From there, he wandered for another thirty some odd years, until the first and second Marcommi wars erupted, where he sat back and watched from a safe location, wondering why man was so determined to destroy itself, becoming slightly philosophical. He spent some time this century with Ptolemy, the greek astronomer, astrologer and geographer, star watching more than anything, enjoying the intellectual debates they had together, mostly about natural or divine influence with the gods. He was extremely sad when he went, holding his own private funeral for one of his few friends across the ages, one of the few people to know what he was.
With third and fourth century A.D., he was wandering the earth, not staying in any one area, not bothering to be wrapped up in the history that had been proceeding. He was now studying the geography and culture of the earth. He wasn’t interested in the petty wars men played against each other so much these centuries, deciding to pursue something for his intellect instead. He spent much time studying the cultures alongside them, learning the languages as he went, enjoying the challenge it brought him, relating languages to each other, more for fun than anything, testing himself, living as much a normal life as he could during these centuries.
With the fifth century A.D., wars were on in full once more, and Vincent was watching once more. He stayed on the sidelines, deciding not to take part unless he felt he had a personal stake in the matter. He witnessed the fall of Romes western frontier, and it’s withdrawl from Britain, led by Constantine, wondering why humans fought amongst each other so much. Shrugging to himself, he shouldered the instruments he’d been learning while watching all this unfold and continued down the road, smiling as he played a merry tune, ignoring the travesties of man, ignoring the death and chaos around him, blissfully ignorant.
With the turn of the century, Vincent found himself in Ireland, deciding to spend his century here, luckily for him. This was the century of the plague, sweeping across the Byzantine empire and southeast Asia, claiming more lives than any recorded plague or war to date. He was oblivious to the kingdoms and empires that fell, of King Arthurs last battle even. He was studying the Irish now, traveling the land, learning it’s culture and history, the Old Irish language that developed, and even the local instruments, playing music for some if they wished, mostly the children. Old irish hymns and songs today, were brought about around that time, and he even had a helping hand in a few.
With the seventh century A.D, he had returned to Alexandria, reading in the library there, the worlds greatest collection of knowledge at the time. He made note of the Islamic transition from Mecca to Medina, the nations falling, the crumbling of the Eastern Roman Empire, and the Muslim conquests. In 642A.D, he was forced out into the world once more, grumbling as he slipped away from Alexandria, the great library being burnt to the ground once more. He’d return eventually, but not until the great library was rebuilt and well stocked. He’d been fond of the place, and lamented its loss, cursing man kind and it’s stupidity. With the falling of this century, he traveled to Asia, specifically Japan, deciding to study the militaristic people that reminded him of his homeland.
With the eighth century passing him by, he spent the years in Japan, once again studying. This time, the religion of it’s people, their culture and language, their social classes, everything. He studied Buddhism, Taoism and everything that appealed to him, and his study of human behaviour. He began marveling at how they, and he at one point, could blindly follow that which they could not see, unable to fathom the reasoning behind it, other than it had become a social conditioning from being a child, and that they eventually knew no better. This proved to be one of his more fascinating centuries, one where he had a lot more research done, noting the few changes that happened in the country. The only real changes were the institution of the Taiho code, and the emperor moving to modern day Kyoto.
The ninth century was by far a more bloody one for him. He had returned to Europe, fighting secretly alongside it’s people, helping them in their hour of need. The Norse Vikings had begun full scale attacks on Europe, and it was something he felt strongly about indeed. He slew many Vikings until about midway through the century, where he withdrew from the fight. He had deemed it fruitless, to try to stop these Vikings, foolish to think that one man could change things. He wondered at himself now, about how one so in lack of understanding for the reasoning behind wars, could get caught up in it yet. The rest of the century passed quickly and quietly for him, retreating into solace to think and relax, and to reflect.
With the tenth century, he retreated from Europe, the Vikings settling into northern France to become Normans. He turned back to Asia, to China specifically, and began his study of their culture and people. He was also at another groundbreaking point in history. In 931, the Chinese became the first to use gunpowder in retaliation to the burning of their fleet, and Vincent became enamored by the firearms present, stealing a few for study on his own. He began to fiddle and tweak guns, creating better models as he went, but only for himself, never introducing them to the people. The tenth century passed quickly for him, caught up in his latest fascination.
With the eleventh century, he returned once more to Japan, this time, taking the time to study it’s martial arts, as a way of relaxation, more than a way to benefit himself as a fighter. He spends the next three hundred years here, mastering the martial arts that develop, enjoying just the physical exercise that it offered him, the peace of mind where all he had to do was just concentrate on the next move, flowing gracefully from form to form, stance to stance. This became a daily ritual for him, practicing one style each day, starting in the morning at sunrise, well sunset really, mentally preparing himself for the nights ahead. After these few hundred years passed, he resumed his wanderings, and his search for his brother.
With the start of the fourteenth century, he’d made his way to Europe, back to Italy, for the beginnings of the Renaissance, enjoying himself, seeing it as a type of vacation for himself. He spent time watching the culture unfold, indulging himself in the wine and food, peddling himself as a minstrel for the nobility sponsored parties at night. This was when he first began to sing as well, and quickly became good at it with his acute hearing, detecting even the slightest hint of when he was out of tune. He grew fond of the mandolin during this age, and became very popular to have at parties, being granted many gifts, and much wealth, which he accumulated and stashed like he did all his wealth, keeping just enough on him to get by.
The fifteenth century was a little more active for him, ending up in the tail end of the hundreds year war, working for Joan of Arc, though only she knew that he was working for her, and knew what he was. He had taken a liking to her, helping her out and protecting her as the years went by, before bidding her a fond farewell, and returning to Japan to see what changes had happened. He found himself embroiled in the Sengoku era of civil war in Japan, becoming stuck there, unable to find a boat off the island until the wars end, in 1615, almost two hundred years later. It wasn’t a completely terrible time for him however, as more martial arts arose, something more for him to study and learn, another style to practice, another way to relax. He took no sides in the war, but was attacked by both, seeing him as foreigner, and believing him to be in league with their enemy.
With the end of the Sengoku era, his first thoughts were to leave the alone to determine what else had been happening in the world. While on his way, he met a samurai by the name of Musashi Miyamoto, and decided to prolong his stay, becoming friends with Musashi. He studied under this unique samurai for the remainder of his life, ending in 1645. He studied his way of fighting and swordsmanship, his philosophy, and was graced with Musashis self-invented technique, the swallow cut. He stayed on to attend his masters funeral, before turning his back to the land of the rising sun, and leaving the island once more, traveling the world over once more, taking in the newest changes.
It was the end of the Sengoku era, and the start of the Tokugawa Shogunate, that he made one of the biggest blunders of his life. He had been in the rice market, having a special seller that he was paying double to, to get it that late at night, stocking up on food before he left for the continent, when he had a chance encounter with Ieyasu Tokugawa. He didn't recognize the ruler, and Ieyasu had addressed him as a foreigner, asking his opinion on the land, it's current ruler, and it's cultural laws. Unwittingly, he stumbled ahead, putting to him bluntly, that he thought Ieyasu an upstart who just wanted a taste of power and to dominate his own people, someone who should have just respected the natural order the country had until then. Shrugging he began to turn away, when Ieyasu revealed himself to Vincent, and ordered his guards to take him. Grinning madly, and with a sarcastic salute, he took off into the night, with a death warrant for him ringing in the night behind him. It was about then that he thought it best to leave Japan for awhile.
In the early eighteenth century, Vincent was still roaming, dodging the various wars that popped up, before stopping for awhile in 1717. It was this year that he stopped to help a scientist, furthering his own intellectual pursuits. He was working on a new invention with Edmond Halley, the diving bell, and successfully tested it for him at a depth of 55 feet. After this successful test, he left, leaving all the credit to Edmond, caring only for the discovery, more than the credit. He only wished he could have been in something more interesting. After that, he continued on his way, winding across the world, trying to find something to interest him. With the close of the century, he found it. The Rosetta stone found by Napoleons troops.
Though never directly involved with the stone, it kept his interest throughout the nineteenth century. After that, he decided that the place to be, was in the newly emerging nation of America. He thought it in his best interest, from an intellectual stand-point, to be at the origins of a nation. He spent most of his time indirectly involving himself with the people, hunting down food and leaving it for them if they didn’t seem liable to make it, observing all the while. In 1836, he watched the troops ride off for their final stand at the Alamo, a chord struck within him for their loyalty to state and countrymen, something that he hadn’t truly seen since his days as a hoplite warrior, a little more than two millennia before hand.
In the latter half of the century, he was watching the industrial revolution sweeping the earth, reorienting himself with the new technologies. He began to enjoy himself, dabbling with the new gadgets and gizmos that the mortals were putting out, grinning like a kid in a candy store when the newest guns came out. For someone who was mostly a pacifist, he loved him some weapons. He quickly became proficient with the latest guns, tweaking and modifying them himself for more power, and better performance. He was a Spartan, he needed things that could tear something apart easily. He was regretting the loss of swordsmanship, the only real warfare, as no skill was really involved with guns. To even the odds in a fight now, you had to have something that made a bigger hole. But as he didn’t exactly have access to missiles, so he settled for tweaking his own guns.
Towards the end of the century, 1888, he returned once more to Europe, this time on buisness. He was tracking a serial killer known as Jack the Ripper. The mans methods were clinical, with surgical precision on his attacks. It seemed too precise, too brutal for any human. He felt confident that it was an immortal, thus his ability to escape the human police force, which was extremely ineffective at the time. He put alot of effort into the tracking of this murderer, going over every minute detail of the crimes, looking for any hints, but finding none. It led him to the conclusion that it had to have been his brother, the only one to ever evade him, and to remain untraceable, unless he wished to be found at some point.
With the rise of the twentieth century, his hopes fell. With his time on the planet, he knew something was on the rise, and humanity did not seem ready for it. With the industrial revolution, humanity was becoming lazier as their labor saving devices became more and more prevalent, and his fears were justified when World War One erupted into total chaos. He immediately moved to where all the fighting began, knowing that this wasn’t a fight he could shy away from. He worked in secret, as he always had, eliminating scouting patrols, small encampments, anything to aid the good guys.
It was on a mission such as those that he met his brother once more. The mission was supposed to be easier for him, with heavy rainfall, most soldiers were inside, and would be made short work of with his borrowed explosives. He had just been on his way to the encampment, when his brother cut him off. With a brief exchange of words, they threw themselves at each other, foregoing guns for swords and fists, relying on skill more than anything. They fought extensively, both refusing to give in, before Vincent gained the upperhand. His brother quickly realized this, and was forced to retreat, calling an enemy scouting party over to occupy Vincent while he made off.
Vincent made short work of the group, and was forced to try and find his brother once more. He continued fighting throughout the war, being injured multiple times, nothing life threatening, feeding off the animals he could capture to heal himself. The war ended after a few years of bloody combat, and the world was rocked by how horrible it was, the amount of dead that lay in the field. This was the war to end all wars, until it was taken up once more, twenty years later.
After the massive war, Vincent retreated into the shadows of history, prowling the continents, his old rage and anger resurfaced again. His senses were alert for any hint of his brother, waiting for the day that he could finally avenge his parents. He found only hints and whispers off his passing, nothing that led him to his brother, so he was forced to bide his time once more, to wait seething for his next opportunity. That opportunity came with world war two, something that Vincent knew his brother wouldn’t stay away from, something that would lead him to his brother.
With World War Two brought into existence, he returned once more to Europe, cursing the stupidity and pigheadedness that men can have sometimes. He once again worked in secret, alone, as always, doing the same thing as the first world war, eliminating only small encampments, taking out soldiers where he could. Once again, his brother ambushed him, and once again, he started out on the defensive, forced to try and take the lead from his brother, who had the advantage of being an older vampire on him.
Their bout was short and bloody, both taking minor to moderate wounds, the tolls adding up, until his brother was forced to retreat once more. Despite being the older vampire, Vincent was the more skilled one. He was a prodigal fighter, his parents raised him to be an extremely good fighter, the Spartan military built off that, and his millennia on the earth brought him many more techniques and tactics to use. He had one technique he was saving to use for his brother though, the swallow cut that his master Musashi had taught him, waiting until he knew he could deliver the final blow. Not even an immortal would recover from it.
This fight however, his brother retreated with more grace than fleeing into the night, crippling Dante, by shooting him in the knee caps with a concealed pistol he had liberated off a German soldier. He merely walked away, laughing maniacally, gloating over the fact that Vincent had yet been unable to kill him, despite being the older brother and the better fighter. Vincent was forced to drag himself off, holing himself up in a dark hole until the sun rose and set again, his leg finally healing, where he once more dropped off people’s radars.
After that, he grumblingly walked away from his pursuit, trusting in the fates to deliver his brother to him once more. He took up an instrument again, the guitar, and began working his way through the years, playing the guitar to get by. He wandered his way back to America, slipping through the authorities with ease, laughing all the while. Humans could be so inefficient and so inattentive sometimes. He took up localizing himself to Vice City, playing at the club on and off, traveling America for awhile at random intervals. It was on one such travel that he came across a ruined tower in the middle of nowhere. Being the curious person he is, he naturally went in headfirst, being sucked up and thrown onto Genesis. He's been on the planet for several months now, mostly wandering to and fro, debating on where to settle down, and wondering if perhaps it was the gods way of giving him the perfect battleground against his brother. Afterall, all reality was at war here, why not him too?
