*Given Name: I barely ever reveal my real name, not even to those I am about to kill.

*Nickname(s): *sigh* If you really have to call me something, make it Duet.

*Appearance: I am as you see before you. I stand roughly six foot two in height; broad shouldered and well built, as any self-respecting Vampire would be. My skin is as pale as one would expect from someone who does not enjoy the… finer sides of the sun. I weigh about as much as a normal man, in fact you would not tell me apart, except for the two elongated eye teeth that adorn my face. Ahh my face, truly my greatest feature, no? Such perfection. My dazzling blue eyes that are a shining portal to my soul, my beautifully soft skin, perfect in complexion, my small thin nose that seems to add to the overall length of my face, and my mouth, with the small, soft lips that cover my fangs so very well. My hair is…unkempt, I believe most would say, dirty and tangled, but long in length and chestnut brown in colour. You will, of course, barely see my hair, as I keep it well tucked in under my hat. You like it? Yes, those pathetic VampireSlayers wear the nicest clothes, though this hat differs to the ones you see dotted around, and it’s because of this. You see? This black rose that fits perfectly into the left side of my hat, is possibly the most important thing in my life, but we shall talk more on that soon. As for my clothes, you can see them, though torn, still fully functional, and as I said, VampireSlayers wear the nicest things. I am, of course, as I may have already mentioned, a vampire, though I was never a mortal beforehand, like most. I am a pure blood Vampire and damn proud of it. As of this, my physical abilities are above par. I can bend steel, with a little effort of course, and can jump as high as around nine or ten feet without sustaining injuries. When my adrenaline is truly flowing, there seems to be no pain or limit to the things I can do, but I have, what I believe you call a hangover, as it were after doing so, and my wounds will be plentiful. My powers are greatly limited indeed should I have not drank, I can barely raise my sword to my side, let alone leap my own height.

*Background: I am a vampire. Pure blood, of course, as I have said already said. And as you also know, all vampires are trained from birth in the harsh forests of Darkovia. From an early age, my upbringing and trainings were brutal and with out love. I watched as the weak among us were slain and made examples of, and I strove to become the best of the best. Though, amongst all the beatings, the slashing, punishments, I must say that… I enjoyed it. I did. All the killing, the feasting… the hunting. I showed good potential, great potential in fact. By my 17th year I could kill entire parties of adventures without even alerting them of my presence. By my 19th year I had returned alone from a werewolf’s lair with nothing but the teeth of the Alpha male, something only the truly courageous or the truly stupid were allowed to attempt. Older and stronger Vampires before me had perished attempting such stupid acts, their teeth becoming ornaments around the necks of the beast Were-wolves that had slain them. In time, even the beautiful Safiria took notice. I rose through the ranks faster than all around me, bar two. One I shall talk about in a while, the other was my competitor.

In Darkovia, you are assigned a competitor to train against, to accomplish more than, to truly test and develop your skills. The better one would go on to the more secret and darker training, *sigh* the other would be killed. We didn’t tolerate the weak, as you do. We strive by efficiency. My competitor was a Vampire called Sirothone, a wretched creature I despised with all my being, a ‘wannabe’ Vampire, not a Pure Blood, not an elite. Obviously just a weakling, who had begged to be turned. But once he had become a Vampire, once he had stole our gift, he too began to display phenomenal power, his ability to grow and learn rising faster than most Pure Bloods that I have ever known. Hahahahahaha. We fought on many an occasion, either in training, or over the mot trivial disputes. He would win, or I would win, it never mattered. The fact was we fought out of pure hatred of each other, though I never know why he despised me. On one particular occasion, I cut off his left ear, and while he writhed about in agony, I burnt the wound with a poker, so that it would never heal. As of now, I believe Sirothone travels the world in search of me, maddened, still believing himself to be my rival.

*Yawn* But enough of him, for I truly yearn to tell you of the other, of…her. What? Oh yes, you’ll get used to that. I tend to stroke this rose rather a lot, but it’s not of import now. I shall tell you of it later. Now we speak of my love. She, though at the time I did not know it was a woman, could match me in every way. Could kill as clean. Could move as silently. Could make a damn good drink a well. And I can honestly say. I couldn't believe it, the first time saw this warrior.

Talk had spread like wildfire, about how he was eight foot tall, wore the heads of men round his neck, and killed a behemoth for fun. I remember being in the great hall of the castle, and seeing a large crowd. It surprised me at the time. I didn't know there were that many vampires in the world, let alone in our castle. I fought through this crowd for what seemed like hours, pushing and threatening my way to the front, and then I saw this, warrior. This killing machine. It was, a girl. A woman. I had never seen such a remarkable woman in all my life. The beauty of Queen Safiria herself paled in comparison. She was merely two inches or so smaller than me, her face shimmering in the candlelight, he dark eyes piercing my heart effortlessly, and her soft, full lips, as dark red as the very blood that sustained us. Her long, silky hair fell over her shoulders, as black as if to draw in the light from around it. And I noticed her hair was kept neat by two peculiar flowers, roses, on the either side of hair head, kept in place just behind her ears. One was as black as her hair, the other shone a soft blue. I tried everything to get noticed, to make her know I was alive. But, to no avail. I brought gifts, I wrote songs, I tried everything.

But it wasn't until I was out on one of my usual haunts. I used to climb the highest tree in the whole of Darkovia, and stare at the moon for hours. It was the only thing that would ease my soul at times, and still does. I remember lying on my back, mulling over my thoughts, when I heard a sickening howl, then a bloodcurdling scream. I jumped up, and almost fell out of the tree. I looked around. I knew the first sound. We were trained from birth to recognise the howl of a werewolf. But the second scream eluded me. I grabbed my dagger, put my hat on, and jumped towards the sound. I remember falling for quite a long time, but I didn’t bother me. I needed to get to that scream. Something was pulling me there. Enticing me there. And I needed to find out what. I hit the ground running, and sprinted through the forest. I knew I could make it in time. I had to. Apparently not I’m afraid. When I got there, I was shocked, and I was scared, two emotions that were very alien. There was the girl, the warrior I pined for. This mighty warrior. Her body was lay across the floor like a rag doll. A twisted, mangled, rag doll. Her eyes were shut, and she was bleeding from, from... everywhere it seemed. I had never seen such carnage, such wanton destruction on a vampire. I remember thinking something along the lines of “We, we are perfect. How could a mere werewolf do this to her?” Yes as you can tell I can be quite conceited, but if you were as perfect as me, you too would want the whole world to know it. But, I’m leading the story away. Where were we? Oh yes, the complete desecration of the woman I loved. Silly me. I moved slowly toward her, drawing my sword, Ha. For all the good it did. Whatever had desecrated her was long gone, and I wouldn’t catch it on foot. I don’t even think I would have considered it; I was so torn up with worrying for this girl. I knelt down besides her, dropping my sword as I did so, and huddled her head against my chest. I couldn’t help her, it was strictly forbidden. The weak were to die, and I knew that. But still, I had to help, I didn’t care how much punishment I was to receive. I hoisted her up into my arms, and rested her head on my shoulder. Her blood was running down me, pouring out of her. She would not make the journey back, not without help. I thought for what seemed like forever, I knew how much having your blood drawn hurt, I knew the visions that passed your mind and the feeling of despair that consumes you.

Oh yes, I too have been on the receiving end of fangs, one of Safiria’s own guards, but it was when I was too young to do anything about. I had touched the queen directly, merely brushed past her, but her guards were upon me at once, and strong as I was, I could not fight off Safiria’s elite, not at that age. They huddled around me laughing, and took it in turns to drink from me and beat me. I was tortured in the main hall where everyone could see, and at the end of all, after being drained and spat at, being cut and slashed, I was thrown into my room with only a cup of rat blood for my recovery. I had a lot of time to think while I was in the process of my slow, agonising recovery, and all of it was upon them drinking from me, drawing my life into their own. I cannot, or ever could describe the pain of a Vampire drinking from a Vampire. Their fangs like hot metal at my neck and arms, the images of a most gruesome nature, too horrifying to recall to you now. But they live in me still, and I shall not forget them, even after death.

All these thoughts passed through my head in the brief moments I was holding my love, and none of them mattered to me then. I opened her mouth, and pushed her exposed fangs into my neck, and she drank from me all the way back to the castle. I carried her the whole way, at least three miles, and all the time with her drinking from me. My steps began to falter, my vision became blurred, and not of that meant a thing compared to the pain. In my mind I was screaming for release, for her to just kill me, but outwardly I showed nothing. I must have realised this was probably the best chance I would have of impressing her. We are foolish in our youth, no? By the time I reached the castle, I merely fell to my knees at the castle door, and lay her down just inside the warmth. I remember seeing Vampires rush out to see what commotion was happening, and then I remember nothing…

I awoke two months later, to find her sitting at my side, tearful, and when she realised I had stirred, she screamed and hugged me, showering me with kisses and warmth. I looked at her in amazement; she had completely healed. No sign of injury, not even the slightest mark touched her precious skin. I was beside myself, and felt the tears well up in my eyes too. We sat there for hours, just embracing, astounded that the other should be ok. I knew from then on that everything would be fine, I would pull through just as I always did, that we would lead the perfect life… and yet, I could not have been more wrong. It all happened about a week after I awakened. Too little time together we had, yet I shall always miss it. Three important things happened in that week. The first being that we exchanged names, I learned her true name and she learned mine. Now you may be thinking, what exactly is the big deal with that? But you are not from the secret world that I am from, and should you choose to remain unknown, that was admired, not frowned upon like the people of this do so easily. In her honour I shall not tell you her name, only the alias that she preferred I call her in public. Harlen. Remember it always, as I do. The second was that she gifted me a precious sword, from a foolhardy Guardian that crossed our path. I’d like to take a moment to quash a rumour. Yes, I have a Blade of Awe. No, you can’t see it. I made sure to hide it well straight after she gave it to me, I have never yet used it in combat. And if that ever leaves this conversation I shall cleave you in two. And the third was that she gifted me a rose, the black one from her very hair in fact. She explained to me the intricacies of the magic it held, but that was not her reason for offering it me. It was a proposal, I was to be betrothed, and I happily accepted. In the short week we had been together, I had found love, something that I thought I would never need nor care about. There was one thing that troubled me though. After her drinking my blood, and me feeling its effects in full force, I took a sort of twisted pity towards my feasts, having known what it feels like, yet not feeling the release of death. I chose to feed on the dying, or the thieves and murderers, yet she did not care. She thought I was foolish, that we deserve to feed on what we wish. But it’s something that troubled me then, as I must admit does now. But, again, that is something to discuss later. Don’t worry, what I have decided to tell you will finish soon, I have no intentions of telling you my entire story. You can find that out from rumours and old wives tales. Trust me, not every story you hear is false…

You may be wondering what happened after the week was over? Did we fall out? Was she killed? Did I fall in love with another? No my friend, my tale is infinitely more tragic then those possibilities. I awoke one day to an empty bed, finding only a note, upon which was hurriedly yet elegantly scrawled ‘Never forget that which I have given you, as I will never forget the love that you have given me’. I didn’t have time to even consider what any of this meant, as the door was burst open and I was dragged kicking and screaming to the Queen herself. She had a solemn look on her face, and my mood changed instantly from anger to fear. What had happened? Why was I here, in a direct meeting with the Queen herself? All of these things ran through my mind, and she silenced them all with a raise of her hand. She stepped forward, walking slowly down the steps in front of me, and silently embraced me. This was bliss! The Queen was touching me! Hugging me! I could hear the annoyed and disgusted murmurs coming from her guards, but I didn’t care. I was being handled, cared for personally by Queen Safiria.

But I was snapped back down to reality with a sudden realisation. Why? I voiced this question as I have just have voiced it to you now. All I muttered was why. She looked up at me, yes you’d be surprised how small she is in person, and started to speak. She has a soft voice, innocent in nature, more breathed then spoken, yet I could hear the despair within it. She explained to me that I must serve her, and made me recite the oath to her that we were all made to learn. She spoke of the Blood Bond that binds all Pure Bloods to the Queen, but I didn’t know why she was doing this. I knew all of this, every Vampire did. But her point became clear in the end. She was merely beating around the bush. She was scared that my Harlen had contracted some form of ‘new’ disease, that her blood may be infusing with the lycanthrope virus. I laughed of course, what a preposterous notion. There hadn’t been a recording of such a thing in all the history of Lore. Yet something in her eyes made me stop immediately. She was deathly serious. Was that why my Harlen had left? Perhaps she was terrified of what she would become, that I would no longer love her. The answer came soon enough though, and it twisted my stomach. I still remember her very words, uttered with soft casual softness, such childlike boredom. “She is a threat. She must be killed. I have chosen you. Go.” I was horrified. Why had she picked me? How could she even consider killing my love, what had Harlen or I ever done to her? I started to yell, my fists flailing and my long hair flying around everywhere. I screamed at her that I would never do it, that she was a heartless little wretch who never deserved the throne. I said many things that I wanted to say but never meant. And all of this time, she stood there and looked into my eyes. Her guards never moved forward to stop me, or restrain me. She never raised a finger to silence me, she just let me shout and bawl and scream until I was hoarse. She stood stock still, and when I was finally silent, she uttered, “You know your oath. You know what I have asked. You will do as I ask. Or you will be exiled, and truly know hell”. Whatever effect her words were meant to have on me, they failed horribly. It only goaded me to tempt her wrath; I didn’t care for her anymore anyway. I turned my back her and flicked my cloak up into her face. As I left, I heard her raise her voice into a horrible wail, screaming in a tongue I didn’t know, bats flying down from the rafters, the very earth seeming to vibrate. I didn’t understand the words, but I felt there meaning. I was exiled. My Blood Bond had been broken, and I would never know how much damage that would cause. I fled from the sound, it sounded like it would consume me. But as I ran, I felt a heat in my head like no fire could ever match. I collapsed to the floor in pain, mid run, causing me to skid across the floor. I remember writhing around in agony, screaming at the undeniable pain. Again I passed out, and as the years went on, I was to realise that this would now become a rather inconvenient common occurrence.

But back to my tale. I awoke some few hours later, about a mile south of the castle, on the very outskirts of the forest. I was cold, thirsty and naked. I happened to wonder across a drunken VampireSlayer by the name of Grandaunt, and drained him of all that I could. A much need meal, but not my most enjoyable. Alcohol thins the blood, you see. Very unsatisfying. I took his clothes, of which you see before you, and I took his dagger to arm myself with. As I went to leave, I must have taken no more than two steps forward, and I felt a twinge in my head, a voice. Safiria. She was speaking to me directly! Into my head! She said but two things. The first was a warning that until the day I died, my suffering would continue. I laughed it off. The second thing she whispered though haunts me still, and is the reason for all of my anguish. She reminded me of the Blood Bond. I didn’t care much, what was done was done. But the second thing she spoke of, was one of our darkest secrets, and it terrified me to my core. She told me of an ancient failsafe built into our systems by the Vampires of old, designed to stop Exiles from turning on the ruler. She told me that even though our link is severed, and this would be the last time she spoke to me, I would be forever compelled to carry out her last wish, her last direct order. To kill Harlen. I tried to ignore it, but I could feel it burdening me even as she spoke, an unfulfilled demon within me that would perpetually eat away at my sanity until my deed was done. I fell to my knees in tears, staring up at the moon, feeling nothing but hatred for what I was, and hearing nothing but the fading laughter of Safiria. My abandoned Queen. That is my past. I have never revealed it to anyone, and you are truly privileged. I went on over time, trying to follow leads on a mysterious cure, so I would be free of the Bond and just find my love without the need of her demise, but in despair and with a heavy heart, I gave up. It left more saddened and hardened than I was in my youth, and took fourteen years of my eternal life. But I eventually realised that this was my destiny, and it crushed me. It made me cold and bitter, unable to care about anyone anymore. I took a job as a blade for hire, and earned quite a reputation. I acquired a baby dragon, say hello Vincent, and a price on my head all in one go, but that is a tale for a different time. I have seen many around me die, yet never had the privilege myself, and I have seen the many ages of this world, and of this town called Battleon. I still return to the tallest tree in Darkovia from time to time, and I think less of killing then I did when I was with Harlen, but for now, that is my tale. Know that none before have had this chance, and be thankful, in not asking for more of my story. I have granted you knowledge of my past, and stopped now because I choose to. Now, what else would you like to know?

*Socio-economic class/standing: As I have said, I was born in Darkovia, fifty-two years ago. I know, I look great for my age. I bare no worship or allegiance to any of the Elemental Lords, and I daresay they don’t care. I lost all faith in the Lords since the day I began my journey, and have no intention of regaining it. You wish to know of my family? I have none. I never knew my father, as it was not customary around my time. I was conceived and birthed and whisked off into training and nursery from the moment I was born. I never knew my parents, or cared. Like I said, that’s not how things were done in my time. I probably have brothers and sisters out there in the world, but like every other Vampire under Safiria’s flag, they blindly attack me without thought, as so many have before them. I may have already killed my brethren, who knows? I know, tragic, cruel, cold. But I have already admitted to it, why should I lie? I have been this way since the world gave up on me.

*Psychology: Ahah, you want to know what makes me tick? Fine, fine, if you must. My outer goal, my ulterior motive? Hmmmm. I don’t believe I have one. None that I have come across before. I only have one goal in my existence, and that is to be with my love for one more sweet moment, trapped in eternity for all to see, before we must fight. I think she knows this. She knows that some day we would be at each other’s throat, and I find a strange comfort in the fact that I am not the only one feeling this pulling despair. When I find her, we will fight, and I shall win, or she will win, either way will be the release that I so yearn for. All I know is in that final conflict, the only thing there will be pure love in it’s most undiluted form. Yes I know, your not the only person to find tat hard to believe, but then again I didn’t really expect you to. My defining characteristic? I would like to say my beautiful form, but from what I’m told it’s the fact I am so horridly conceited. I don’t believe it myself, but hey, not everybody’s perfect. My fears? I will tell you know, I fear no living or unliving thing, not only death itself. I fear only two things. The first being that what they said and assumed was true, that my Harlen has become a vicious beast, so evil and tainted that even my love for her would waver. And the second thing I fear is that this rose should be destroyed, for with it I should have no hope of ever finding my love, or of performing the necessary magic essential for our final battle. No, sorry. I have sworn to the only person in the world that matters to me to never reveal it. You’ll just have to be there at the right time I’m afraid. What? Hahahahaha. So you want to know a dirty little secret huh? Do you think I’m here to entertain you? Well how’s this? When I was eighteen years of age, I sneaked into the house of a wealthy man for a dare, only to find him not there. In my anger, I ripped apart his children and wife, and made them write their last messages to him on the walls with their own blood. Happy now? I bet that really tantalised you. Try thinking the next time you ask someone a question, you’ll live longer. I am a very closed person in nature, despite what you may think by me doing this…interview? Bio you called it? Never mind. I keep to myself, because I don’t need others. Simple as. I prefer the sound of the wind rushing past my ears to the sound of another fool hardy VampireSlayer willing to die, or another drunken oaf trying to impress me with his over embellished lies. Yes, I am self-centred perhaps, but I can’t see why I shouldn’t be. I have my life planned, I have my goals planned, why should I stop to smell the proverbial roses unless it’s to provide me with a moments amusement. Call me what you will. I live my life the best I can with what I have been given. I have no taste for food, I eat it simply because it sustains me. The same for drink. I drink water if I’m thirsty, as any other man would. But of course, I have a need for blood, and you will never know the beauty, the exhilaration you have as the life of another runs down your throat. I feel that my time in Darkovia castle was my biggest learning experience on the whole, as much as I hate it now, it made me the creature I am today, fast, strong, a natural born and bred killer of the highest degree. What do I most enjoy? Ahh, why the kill of course. The power that you feel, the control that swarms around you, nothing affects you quite as much as knowing you have the power that should be reserved only for Gods; the power to end life. My sense of humour is… non-existent? I don’t find things as amusing as mortals do, the only thing that will make me smile or laugh now is mortals themselves, with there stupid sense of superiority, there belief that they alone know everything. Mortals amuse me so, especially when they try not to.

*Yawn* Could we perhaps hurry this up please? I haven’t fed tonight, and unless you want to become it, I suggest you get this over with.

*Philosophy & Morality: I can’t see the point in answering these questions. Relationships, the state of the world, families, these are all things for mortals to enjoy, let them have what they feel they need to find bliss. No don’t apologise, I despise that. Unless you have truly done something you should be atoning for, apologies are for the weak to use to escape looking like a fool. Now continue. A catchphrase? Hmmm. Again, I don’t believe I have one. I don’t like to be quite so predictable.

*Inventory: My…inventory? What is this, a role playing game? My, tools of the trade if you will. I wear what you see here, and have done so for a long time. If you can see here, now I have lifted my jacket, I have various daggers strapped all over my body, twenty-four in all, and a leather body suit. Now if you look here, at my back, you can see I have my Night Shield strapped to it, but that’s normally where it stays. I’m not fond of fighting shield and sword, it’s the area my combat has the most flaws in. I much prefer my daggers. I do of course carry swords, I carry two. One is a long, thin blade that suits my duelling style of fighting perfectly, and the other is merely a smaller thinker blade for use in my off hand, should I ever need it. The rose in my hat is used in magic, but it performs no offensive spells what so ever. I have numerous vials and powders stored within my jacket, all used for potion making or carrying blood.

*Skills and Magic: I use no special skills or magic, I believe if something is willing to fight, it should at least be a fair one. I will warn you now though. There is a dark power brimming within me, and not even I know what it is. It holds people there when I am feeding, and that is all I have know it to do when I am conscious. You have been warned.

*Life & Lifestyle: My life is a cold one. I have no, closest friend, though I am not ashamed to say that there are people I would call upon should I ever truly be in need. My job? I have already said. I am a mercenary. A blade for hire. I work for whoever has the biggest wallet, but its only to have the money to sustain my quest. Accomplishments? Hahahahaha. Most of mine are below the law, so you’ll excuse me should I not wish to disclose them. Lets just say Galanoth has reason to hate me.

*Food for Thought: You have a questionnaire? Very well, give it here.

(Duet sits writing for a few minutes, and hands back the paper with the answers scrawled on in a very elegant style)

You like it? Yes I pride myself on good writing. Why scrawl when you can do better?
(The Questionnaire reads:)

How would you react to:

- Inheriting 1 million Gold: Inheriting? And how do you expect me to do that?

- The death of a loved one: The only loved one I have, I intend to kill. How do you think I’d react?
- A natural disaster: hurricane/earthquake, etc.: Well that depends whether or not I was in it. Oh you mean about the other people. And why would I care about that?

- Being fired: I’m a blade for hire. Life goes on. There are plenty of other contracts out there.

- Meeting an old friend or enemy not seen for years: The same way I meet anyone from my past. With my blade and no remorse.

- Having or raising children: Now what do you think? Would I make a good father?

- Being mugged/violated in some way: I’d be impressed. Anyone sneaky enough to mug me would he a worthy foe indeed. Until I had his head of course.
- An unexpected kindness or compliment: Depends on the situation. If it was sincere, well, who knows? Perhaps they’d get one back. But I hate false flattery.
- A serious illness: I’d be very surprised. I don’t get ill. Ever.

- An interracial relationship: Why would I care about anyone else’s relationship? What they do is entirely up to them.

Now, Is that all? Good. Should you wish to speak again, just let me know. You know where to find me…