Character Name: Kristopher

Age: looks 17 (actually 266)

Weight: 136 lbs.

Height: 6’ 3”

Personality: Distant, cold, speaks in monotone, does not get close to anyone.

Story Behind Him (includes all other information needed for character): There are two unknowns: that which is unknown to him and that which is unknown to others. The latter is easy to answer, for no one knows who he is or how he had gotten there. The former is a little more complex. He does not remember what happened, but has gotten many flashbacks regarding the experience. What he knows is that he was forbidden in a city; a city that he does not remember much of, but is drawn to nonetheless: the Dead City. Why it is called that, he does not know, what is calling to him from there, he cannot remember, but all he knows is that he was happy, then something happened and now, there is a great unfilled void that exists within him. From the flashbacks, he remembers a young man around his age at the time and a winter landscape in the background. The boy holds great beauty and a terrible secret, but the secret, he again cannot remember. The village had wanted to execute him, but he had said that he should share a lesser punishment with him, and so they were both expelled from the city. A time of dark mist surrounds the next time period and the closest thing he remembers is a conversation under a starry sky in the cold, but a cold that he knows is there, but cannot feel:

Why did you choose to help me?

I don’t know. You seemed innocent.

What do you want in return?

Nothing.

Would you like eternity?

What do you mean?

Would you like to be able to live eternally?

Yes.

After that, just darkness. After that one word, he cannot remember anything, only darkness. The word was not one he had thought of, nor was the question; it had just been an automatic response. The other thing he remembers is that he was not always beautiful, but after the darkness disappeared after that one word, he had woken up looking perfect. The dark hair was no longer just hair, his eyes no longer just blue, his skin no longer sickly pale. Now he looked like a god, the skin once sickly had become a pale beauty. His eyes had an added exotic look to them, and when he was angry, they looked electric; many had gotten lost staring at the vast blue depths. Any scars he had had disappeared and his facial features became more defined. His body had developed lean muscles that carried a great strength. After the turning, he no longer needed any armor, for he could now heal very quickly. Because of this, he wore only light clothes consisting of black pants and a shirt that hugged his frame. While he had never believed it, he became the thing everyone else wanted to be: perfect. He had never seen the boy again, but had quickly realized what had happened to his body; he had become one of the dark ones who never slept, never ate, never lived, and never felt the warmth. Many times, he wondered if that was why the villagers had cast away the young man, but that made no sense, for the village was awash with vampires and had grown to accept them. The protection they offered against enemies was enough to counter for the occasional deaths. After all, they could control the amount hey took from a person to make sure that they did not kill anyone, and yet, mistakes always happen.
After he left the village, he had encountered many that underestimated his abilities and had tried to start fights. The other young man had taught him to fight with a long sword in which he had quickly excelled. At the village after that, he bought a sword of his own; it had a nearly white blade that became slightly blue when it got locked down with another one. The friction that caused the heating between the two blades, made the blade look even more beautiful. The grip on the bottom of the sword was covered in cloth and had and interesting pattern that continued up to the top of the blade. That part had been etched into the metal and had been permanently shaded. The sword was carried strapped to his back. That had been one of the other positive points to the Turning; he could now learn things much more quickly. Within two months of the event, he had become fluent in Russian, German, English, French, and Japanese.
In the second case rested a masterfully crafted violin; that was the last investment he had made. He could not have played it before, but now, the sound that the delicate instrument emitted could make a person cry or shout in joy, and, yet, no one had ever heard it. A person had once startled him while he was playing, while he had been completely taken over by the music and did not think that anyone might come looking for him. He could not leave the person knowing his terrible secret, for he was ashamed of it to no end so the person was found the next day with a split diagonally across the body. His secret… That was the other thing he hid from everyone. While he could play in such a way that even the composer of the pieces himself would salute him, to him, it always lacked something, something that he could never put into it. The person who had heard him play had not angered him for hearing him play, he had died after the statement that had haunted Kristopher for the past two centuries, “The precision is not what you lack, it is the emotion; the music is beautiful, but cold, just like you.” Because of this single statement, he had almost abandoned music. Now he played very rarely, and when he did, he could hear the imperfection, he could hear the missing piece, and yet, he could do nothing to make it go away.
He had another secret; a secret, which if it ever got out could cost him his life in battle. His advantages in battle were many: he was great at physical battle and even better at predicting exactly what the enemy will do, but do what he may, he quickly lost control of everything as soon as another person’s arms wrapped themselves around him. This was not a problem he encountered much, for he generally took care of his enemy long before they could come that close, but years ago, he had found a situation where his enemy was good enough to slip between the cracks in his defense. He had come close and pinned him to the ground. As soon as he felt the other’s closeness, he shivered and drew himself in a fetal position. The thing that had saved him at the time was a young boy who chose that moment to stab the enemy in the back, but the event had left him understanding that while he was great at many things, closeness was a weakness that could greatly cost him in a battle against a closely matched opponent.