A vampire cannot help it's nature any more then a human or an animal. Humans kill animals for food, do they not? It's the natural order of things, or so they say. Yet when a vampire kills a human for food it's no longer the natural order, it's murder. So they are forced to hide, they are forced to live like leeches, drinking small amounts here and there, never enough to fully saticfy them. For if they did they would be monsters. Not being human doesn't make them monsters. So they wait, hiding in the shadows till the time when humans and creatures of the night can coexist. If that time ever comes.
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Rules:
1) No killing off other peoples characters without their concent.
2) Keep it pg-13
3) No racial/religist/or sexual discrimination.
4) Play nicely. If you have a problem with someone take it somewhere else, because the rest of us really don't care what their momma did.
5) Have fun and please keep on subject
Bio:
Name:
Age:
Race: (I.E. Werewolf, Human, Vampire, ect.)
Gender:
Weapons: (If any)
Special ability: (If any)
Weakness: (No ones perfect)
Appearence:
Personality:
Bio:
I.C:
Mine:
Name: Demond
Age: 853 (looks 16)
Race: Vampire
Gender: Male
Weapons: Daggers, Shortsword
Special Ability: Stealth
Weakness: Usual Vampiery things
Appearence:
(i realize it's a girl..just replace the braids with one long pony tail in the backPersonality: Demond is very untrusting. He will scarcly talk to someone if he see's no reaason to. Even before he died, everyone hated him. And he hated them back.
Bio: Demond didnt have the best relationship with his parents. They beat him, made him sleep in a tiny room, and never fed him. Who knew that people other than Demond hated them too?? Lets just say that his parents wernt high on the social ladder. Or on it at all? They were rude, mean, and generally evil people. An assassin showed up at their doorstep one rainy evening. Demond was sleeping on the doorstep, so he awoke when the man walked up to him. "follow me" said the man, red glowing eyes peircing through Demond. Following in tow, they both walked into Demonds parents room. His dad awoke, strangly, at the noise of silence. The two men fought, the mysterious man winning. Demonds mother screamed and ran toawrds the door. Demond got in her way, and watched as a knife slide along her throat and retract. The man, bleeding from his chest, asked Demond for blood. He gladly gave it up. After that, the man and Demond talked for hours. About his life, his jobs, everything. The man, burdened with grief, left the house. Demond never saw him again.
I.C.
Demond sat with his legs hanging over the edge of the building, his back to the entrance. The people below didn't notice him, after all, why would they? Even when he was alive he wasn't worth noticing, why should he be any different when he was dead? Silently he rose from his sitting position, walking along the edge of the building as if he were a balance beam, extending his arms, even thought he needed no help balancing.
Like a cat, he jumped to the building beside the one he was next, crawling up the roof and looking down at the new setting. A park was set into the darkness, almost completely vacent, except for a few couples and a family or two. It was nearly ten O'clock, what were these people doing out? Didn't they know the dangers that night wroght? Didn't they understand how precious their lives were? Didn't they comprehend how easily it could be taken away. The answer to all those questions was no.
He stood up, his black sandles dull against the shining metal roof. He looked up at the sky, watching the stars shining innocently through the clouds. Bordly, he jumped into the air once more, unfurling his long grey hair in the air. He fell through the air until he was in a back alley, hidden in the shadows. With a sigh he started walking, wondering what this night might bring.
