[s]Work in progress, posting from phone LOL.[/s] Done.
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[hider=Matthew Stanford]
[color=a0410d][b]Name:[/b][/color] Matthew Daniel Stanford (current name) / Michael/Mohannad/Mattathias (previous names)

[color=a0410d][b]Age:[/b][/color] 400 years (estimated)

[color=a0410d][b]Gender:[/b][/color] Male

[color=a0410d][b]Race:[/b][/color] Demon(ically-infected human)

[color=a0410d][b]Sub-Class:[/b][/color] Vampire

[color=a0410d][b]Description:[/b][/color] Lean and spare, Matthew has slightly sunken cheeks, overly prominent cheekbones, and a straight, sharp nose; he's slightly too underfed-looking, but his sharp Eurasian features, combined with that knowing glint in his cloud-grey eyes, do give him a roguish charm. He looks like a man in his mid-twenties, and stands at about 1.65m / 5' 5", with slightly curly black hair worn at almost shoulder length and chestnut-brown skin free of scars or blemishes. He dresses neatly and comfortably in muted colours; long-sleeved turtlenecks, long pants or jeans, in beige and pale grey and blue almost as much as in black. A great deal of black still features, most notably the knee-length longcoat he conceals his knife within. Such warm, skin-concealing clothes are his preferred wear regardless of the occasion, though he has the skill and means to turn out in formal wear suited to the most solemn and lofty events if he must.

Matthew carries himself with the easy grace of a dancer - or a panther. He's confident in his abilities, and seemingly perpetually amused by the day-to-day quirks of life, almost condescendingly so, but there is something in the genuine curiosity of his questions, in the small, wry smile on his face, something bright and heavy in his eyes, that suggests more. Though his eyes may literally gleam bright in the dark, light reflecting off his tapetum lucidum, which along with the fever-heat of his body are the only true hints of his inhuman truth.

[color=a0410d][b]History:[/b][/color] Where he was from no longer matters; what his birth name was, what language his parents spoke, who his people were, all of it is as dust in the wind to him. The earliest event of meaning that he will acknowledge remembering, with bitter amusement, was when a demon-touched woman good as killed him by accident, and her brother gave him of their cursed life to try to save him.

Matthew loves Hadrianus like his own true elder brother, but he's not sure if he will ever quite forgive him.

They travelled together for some time, helping each other learn their new lives. Hadrianus was kind and compassionate and disliked not just violence but the very idea of hurting humans; Hava was proud and angry and wanted to be a good person like her brother. Matthew, who had learned to fight even before he got his blood-hunger, who found it deeply unfair that they had never really had a say in becoming what they were, who had never really believed in justice and goodness, Matthew turned from hunting animals to hunting human prey because life was meaningless and dead was dead so he might as well taste sweeter blood.

Hadrianus did not like it, and Hava did not like it, but Hadrianus of the Fortress was the kind of person whose door was always open no matter how much it hurt him, and Hava followed his lead, and Matthew could do what they couldn't because he knew how to fight and run and hide and [i]live[/i], so they argued and acquiesced and split paths and rejoined each other as immortals are wont to do, once they have realised that they have eternity to wait for the other to change their mind.

And Matthew changed his own mind in the end. It might have been Asha's influence - Asha who was another of Hava's accidental would-be victims, who became like a very charming, very stubborn sister to Matthew, who loved the disparate changing human cultures and taught him how to appreciate the trappings of the rich, and had no patience for how he indulged his hungers. It might have been the realisation of how hollow his life was, the emptiness of it eating away at him. It probably wasn't that one time an angel caught up to him, the single bloodiest fight of his life because it just wouldn't die until he tore it apart limb from limb, and not before he'd nearly died himself. But the catalyst was probably when he realised that choosing not to kill was so much harder, that he had lost control of himself, that he felt almost like he couldn't stop even if he wanted to, when he caught himself looking at Hadrianus and wondering what a fellow vampire's blood would taste like.

So he walked out into the wild to die.

The blood-hunger was a horrid ache in his bones and a twitching want in his hands, until he was nearly delirious with the memories of the taste of it, but Matthew walked on past even the scuttling rodents in the grass because while he had never felt any particular guilt over any human's death, he was angry and stubborn and he refused to become so inhuman that he would turn on his sire, he refused to become so monstrous that all of life became only about his strength and his hunger, and it wasn't even that he believed in doing the right thing, it was only that he had always had pride in himself and nothing, not even what was stealing the strength from his limbs for want of blood, not even that was going to stop him deciding who he was.

When they found him, he could keep himself from tearing out their throats, even though he knew in his gut that if he did not feed soon he would likely die. They took pity on a lost traveller until he showed them his teeth and tore someone's flesh with his claws and licked the single taste of agonisingly tangy red off his fingers. When they tried to tie him down, tried to kill him, he tore the ropes and broke their weapons and lay down in the dust to die in peace because he wanted it, to be able to choose not to drink even with the scent of it thick in the air. 

But then one of the men came up to him, knelt in the sand beside him, and with a knife spilt some of his blood in a bowl and offered it to him. And he didn't understand the words the man spoke but he understood the solemnity and sorrow in his voice, and the kindness broke his heart in a way nothing had in years upon years, and he took the bowl and drank.

He stayed with them for some time; he lived on rations of blood measured out for him, from the young men of the village and from the goats, and he learned their words and their prayers and helped to tend the flocks and gardens.

Eventually, Matthew left, because if he was not dead then he owed it to Hadrianus and Hava and Asha to let them know. He found Asha and then he lost her. He tracked down his wealth again, and hers too, learned his way back into the human world, and worked a deal with a demon for Contempt because he wanted a weapon that could kill an angel, and he wanted to trade away something he didn't want to have anymore, and because he wanted a reminder to keep by his side.

And here Matthew Stanford is now, in Loom, because here is the hub of the supernatural, lurking behind the doors and beneath the streets, and if Adrian and Haven Castle are to be found anywhere in the world, here they likely will be.

[color=a0410d][b]Abilities/Skills:[/b][/color] The first and foremost ability of a vampire is that they are usually human in appearance, in all ways save for the fever-warmth of their skin and the cat-brightness of their eyes in the dark. When confronting prey or enemy, however, their fingers may twist into claws fit for rending flesh and their teeth sharpen for tearing bites. This mild physical alteration is voluntary for all vampires save neophytes, of which Matthew is not.

Strength and speed are significantly heightened in vampires, the better for them to hunt their prey, and they usually become stronger and faster with time. Matthew is fast enough that he is a blurred flash over short distances, and strong enough that a brick wall is a minor nuisance. Vampiric resilience is such that he sleeps only about four hours each day, and a donation of blood from a human will satisfy his hunger for about two days, while their regenerative capability is such that few wounds can trouble him for longer than an hour or two. Any injury inflicted by the burning touch of silver or gold, of course, is another matter entirely. 

There is something in a vampire's bite that lulls their prey, fogging their thoughts and slowing their reactions. There is something to a vampire's senses, that their hearing is very keen, and faint scents are still sharp to their nose. There are other such subtleties that come with time; Matthew has learned that he can move silently with little care, and learned that he can feel the light thrumming presence of blood in any nearby beings, feel the burning of power within those veins as a warning of difficult prey, and he thinks that with time and cruelty, he might learn to make all that blood do his bidding.

But for now he will make do with his skill at the longsword and the knife, with his makeshift skill at small firearms, and with his firm belief in never picking a fair fight. He has a keen enough mind, especially when applied as a mix of careful forethought for a particular goal and bold improvisation, combined with his general thirst for knowledge. He has a sharp eye for reading people, or at least, it takes one liar to know another. And when push comes to shove, he is both very good at causing pain and at enduring pain, because at the end of the day, if Matthew is anything he is a stubborn, remorseless, sadistic bastard.

[color=a0410d][b]Notable Belongings:[/b][/color] Matthew likes to be well-prepared, and his personal effects reflect it - a Glock 19 tucked into his belt, while two wallets and various pockets contain half a dozen debit cards, significant amounts of cash in three different currencies, travel documents made out to two different identities, a smartphone with nothing truly of importance on it, a small notebook with contacts and notes written in his native tongue, and a couple of spare magazines.

Concealed within his coat is a knife the length of his forearm, with a plain leather sheath and a gleaming black blade. Its name is Contempt, and when wielded in battle, so long as Matthew wills it, it calls forth the mortality within those locked in combat, that they may only be as strong and fast as a human, that no otherworldly power may answer their call, and any wound inflicted will heal at mortal speed; against a normal human or a being with no humanity within, it is only a knife. Paid for in flesh and blood, in memory and spirit, Contempt is practically an extension of Matthew; it will burn the hand of anyone else who tries to take it, and will dissolve to ash upon the death of its owner.

More generally, a combination of having found a banker he can trust, decades upon decades of investing his money, and a general accumulation of possessions from cycles of self-indulgence, paranoid planning, and self-imposed asceticism, means Matthew is obscenely wealthy, owns properties in several cities, and actually has concerns with which to occupy his time beyond his search for family and meaning.

[color=a0410d][b]Current Situation:[/b][/color] Fairbanks had advised Matthew against venturing into Loom. The city had some interesting local initiatives, but the dangers of so much as a three-day holiday, much less living there for the foreseeable future.... "The city's crime rate is alarming, sir, but that wasn't what I meant. Loom has a certain reputation for attracting the particularly amoral and cutthroat, if you'll forgive my phrasing, and this reputation spans both sides of the masquerade. If you intend to maintain a low profile, it may actually be the more dangerous approach."

But here Matthew had wanted to come, so here he was. With young William in tow, helping him pick out furniture for the new apartment, update him on current affairs, and provide blood once every two months. What the vampire was going to do for blood every two days until the next time was up to him to figure out. There were homeless people in just about every city in the world, so he hadn't worried.

Except now he was revising his opinions. The beggars knew a great deal, as the invisible downtrodden often did, so he hadn't had to worry about surprising them with his inhuman nature, because this was Loom. What did matter was that many of them would have nothing to do with his ilk, not even for food and money, because this was Loom. 

There was also that one strange man who looked far too pretty but lacked any blood-scent whatsoever; in fact, he lacked the scents of sweat or fear and any number of other things that would have marked him a living mortal human, because this was Loom, apparently. 

So one and a half months since his arrival, Matthew was having to go further and further to find another individual willing to bargain. And then the incident happened.

He'd noticed a police detective who thrummed with power, who was talking to the homeless folk and asking questions. Power he'd only felt up close once before, from an angel. Power he realised that he'd felt faintly throughout the past month, skittering through Loom, that set him on edge. Of course he followed her home, to see if he could learn anything about her.

What he had not expected was to save her from a mysterious assailant.
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