Name: Dorian Alex Helvek

Race: Vampire

Age: 549(Looks mid twenties)

Height: 6'5”

Weight: 142lbs

Hair: Strawberry Blond, mid back length, bangs only slightly shorter and parted down the middle, the rest of the hair kept back in a tactful black hair ribbon.

Eyes: Icy Blue

Skin: Ghostly White

Build: Lithe, faint muscle tone, but with almost no clear muscle definition

Clothes: Long sleeve red button up shirt with classic frills at the wrists over a plain white under shirt. Black cravat with a silver chain across it. Knee length gentleman’s coat that flares out slightly from where the last button is around the waist. Matching fine black pants and polished shoes with calf high black socks.

Accessories: Ear cuff on shell of right ear with deep blue stone inlay into the silver. Silver pocket watch. An assortment of small blades hidden in various pockets and sheathes. Wears a rapier on left hip, the strap for the sheath crossing the chest beneath the black coat.

Powers/Skills(If Applicable): It fairly skilled with throwing knives, and is an expert swordsman with the rapier. He has classic vampiric charm and has a fair level of control over the unsuspecting. Naturally stronger than humans and can move very quickly over short distances. Horsemanship is at professional level and has naturally heightened senses.

General Personality: Very dedicated to anything he sets his mind too, but never does anything more than is absolutely necessary. He's not lazy, he just doesn't see the point in doing more than his share. He's rather kind to animals, but is rather indifferent about humans. He has no temper to speak of, but then again no one has ever tried testing it in over three hundred years. He is content with his life, but doesn't look down his nose at those who seek more out of life. He a bit of an enigma to those around him, showing no real passions outside of his sword play and horse riding. He never really seems to express what he's thinking, often times needing to be asked what's on his mind to get him to talk at all. Despite that, he's very creative and if goaded into it, can tell fantastic stories made up on the spot.

Background: No one knows much about him save for the past two hundred years, he doesn't talk about his younger years. He himself does his best not to think about such times and has worked for his coven for the past couple hundred years to help them expand and flourish. He took up the sword many years before joining the coven, and there seems to be something special about the one he carries at all times. He started breeding and riding horses a little over a hundred years ago, passing his brood one to “The next generation” each time he had to “Die” and has watched the line grow and mature into a very fine breeding stock. When he came across the ocean to New England with the settlers he took with him the best of the best and makes a decent living off of them on the human front as the country's best horse breeder. He also supplies all the horses for his coven, and can be seen chastising any one of them who returns without the horse he sent them out with. He owns a chateau one town over from the central hub of the coven where he has his own ranch for breeding and raising his prize horses, but commutes at least three times a week to the hub to pick up assignments. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sea crashes against the base of the cliff overlooking the town of Horton. A rumble in the distance signals an approaching storm, faint flashes of light far off in the dark night sky like flickering fireflies. The air is filled with the salty fresh breeze coming off of the vast waters far bellow, and the dark horse standing poised at the edge lets out a harsh snort at the new smell. It shifts carefully from side to side as it's rider seems lost in thought, gazing out towards the head of the storm. The steadily growing breeze whips at his hair and clothes, but somehow he looks no worse for wear. His ride from the coven's home town had taken over a week, and as he traveled he picked up more and more news and rumors about his current assignment. Each new fact or hypothesis stirred an itching in the back of his mind, and he is now rather anxious to get started.

Taking a deep breath he lets out a long sigh and turns his horse from the cliffs towards a rough dirt road. The road, leading down from the bluffs towards the town, splits just before the village proper with one leg leading into town, and the other leading towards a rather dense forest. The settlers had already begun clearing away the large trees so that they could build houses, or make more farm land. He's not quite sure, but it doesn't matter to him much. Dorian has never much cared to wonder over what human's are planning for their relatively short futures. Other of his kind admire humans in a way. Somehow their desperate scrambling to accomplish something, to be remembered by something grand or heroic they accomplished. [i]'It has been so long since I was one of them, they have lost all wonder in my eyes'[/i] Shaking his head he gives the reins a faint tug and his horse turns at the fork towards the wood.

However oddly enough, Dorian was chosen for this mission due to how well he can blend with humans. Because of his century long business of horse breeding and training he's had to deal closely with the mortals on a regular basis. Whether it be expanding on his stock, or selling a particularly promising yearling to a gifted rider, he's managed to keep the world believing in his humanity. The forest is darker than the road before it, causing his horse to get a little antsy. It nickers softly, slowing to a walking pace. Stopping a couple dozen yards into the darkness the vampire looks about for signs of his quarry. [i]'Not that I'm expecting to find it right off the bat, but the last attack did happen rather close to the forest's edge. . .'[/i] His thoughts trail off as he spots movement out of the corner of his eye.

Rather than responding hastily he makes to dismount but freezes as he hears a pistol's hammer being pulled back. [i]'Impatient folk, not that I blame them'[/i] He finishes dismounting slowly and turns towards where the sound had come from. Rather quietly, given the sounds of the approaching storm masking most small noises, a group of men exit the dense foliage beside the road, a couple of them lighting torches to illuminate the area. One of them has a gun leveled at him, both the others just stand around, shuffling nervously. The one with the pistol steps forward, lowing the gun slightly so he can look into Dorian's eyes. “How goes there squire? Fancy a late ride?” His voice is firm, but not threatening.

[i]'The watch I suppose'[/i] “Forgive me gentleman, but I am here on business. I thought I would see the storm from a more interesting vantage point before my meeting tomorrow than through the window of an inn.” His voice is low and smooth and the gathered men seem to relax. The armed man drops his weapon slowly to his side before holstering it. A slightly glazed look seems to cross a few of the mens' faces, but most are far too frightened by recent events to let the vampire's charm take full effect. 

The front man pulls his hat off, running his hand through his rust colored hair. “Sorry about the weapon squire, but strange things have been going on lately about these woulds. Perhaps you shouldn't stick around here for long.” The men all murmur in agreement, a few expressing how they too would rather be elsewhere.

Dorian waves a hand dismissively. “I have heard about such troubles. I feel I can deal with any trouble that I meet out here. Not even the mighty bear is that intimidating after being poked in the eye, no?” He pulls back his jacket slightly so the men get a good look at the polished handle of the rapier at his hip. His cool eyes almost flash as he drops his cloak and motions one of the men forward. The slightly dazed young man strides forward and Dorian hands his the reins to his horse. “I have a reservation at the Jameston Inn. I would appreciate it if you could take my horse to the stable there.” Reaching to his hip he pulls the strings of his coin purse so he can slip his fingers inside. Pulling out two large gold coins he shows them to the man before pressing them into his free palm. “One of those is for you, and I would like you to give the other to the stable boy to ensure Horace here is treated properly.” Reaching up he pat's the black stallion's neck softly.

Around them the winds pick up, thrashing the upper branches of the trees and causing the torches to crackle harshly. The man gives him a nod and goes to take a step back, but Dorian's hand on his arm makes his pause. “Horace is trained to me, like a war horse, so I would advise against trying to ride him, or steal him for that matter.” A few of the men chuckle as the one holding the reins swallows hard.

“Would never dream of doing something as down right dirty as that Sir. No, not ever.” He stumbles out, his voice catching slightly. 

The men laugh out right this time and one of them calls out, “You picked the most honest one among us squire, don't choo be worryin' about that 'orse.” They laugh a little more as the young man blushes openly. 

The laughter stops abruptly as the first real peel of thunder cracks. The red headed man looks to his fellows and then back to Dorian. “Well squire, stay out here if you like. I can't be risking sick with my boys though. You'll be out here alone to enjoy the storm however you like. Be seein' you.” Dorian gives the man a nod and with a little salute the group heads off towards the opening in the trees towards town. 

Letting out another long sigh the vampire turns towards the dark of the wood one more and begins walking forward slowly. [i]'Well, this gives me more time to search. Humans are good for some things'[/i] The wind lashes at his back but as he moves deeper and deeper into the forest's black depths the trees afford him some shielding from it's harsh bite. His senses are primed, seeking out anything that's abnormal or out of place in this un-refined wilderness.