Diabolique
They see me rooooollin.
Alexander DeManoir
Born: 1599
Sired: 1636
Appears: 37
Status: Elder
Title: Prince
Place of Birth: London
Clan: Ventrue
Sect: Camarilla
Species: Vampire
Haven: Braxton Bank
Also resides in DeManoir Manor.
Clan Weakness:
Must feed upon females with brunette hair.
Appearance:
Alexander stands at 6'3" and weighs 216lbs. His build is strong, his shoulders broad. He is often seen wearing suits, adorned with the latest cufflinks. A gold band with an emerald rests on his middle finger, while a ring with the crest of the Ventrue rests upon his pinkie. As for the ring finger, it bares a ring with the seal of the Prince. His watch, as well, is gold, though he often checks a silver pocket-watch that he acquired over a century ago.
Disciplines
Presence
Awe
Dread Gaze
Entrancement
Summon
Majesty
Paralyzing Glance
Dominate
Command the Wearied Mind
Mesmerize - Completed.
Fortitude
Endurance
Auspex
Heightened Senses
Celerity
Alacrity
Swiftness
History:
It was the turn of the 17th century. Commerce and trade was beginning to expand, but with it the population rose. With the population increase, plague also found its way to the dark streets of London. Streets (if you could call them that). The streets were littered with trash and waste, home to those without homes. They were rough, uneven, and dangerous. The turn of the century did bring about change, however, in the fact that wood houses, even for the poor class, were being replaced with brick or stone; this was despite the fact that the poor often lived multiple people to a one-room home. Even later into the years, homes had chimneys and glass windows (previously only had by members of notable status). All this said, it doesn’t take away from the fact that life in London during the 17th century was overall improving. People began eating with forks, for example. Furniture was upholstered. Perhaps the greatest thing to ever be taken away from this time period—at least to Alex—was chocolate and coffee.
How could he afford such fine cuisine, you ask? A simple answer: His father, Henric, a well-known merchant, had earned his way into the middle class. That isn’t to say Alexander’s family was overly wealthy during his mortal youth, but more to impress the fact that merchants were now holding some modicum of station or position, and were even gaining respect by those of a higher status. To this day, Alex remembers sailing the river Thames, seeing the death and depravity that surrounded him. In many ways, the trips warmed his heart. The landscape beyond the developing city was nothing short of awe-inspiring. The drudge that lived within the city itself, however, was enough to churn even the most cast-iron of stomachs.
Another memory that Alexander often turns to is his father’s meetings at coffee houses. Alexander, his father, and the client would sit in front of the coffee house, watching the sights and hearing the sounds of the city. They would gossip, as men do, and discuss their business proposals. Most of it was well-received insults and negotiating, but other times it was simply a social visit masked with the name of business. As for Henric himself? He had come from nothing. In truth, he was poorly educated. Despite this, Henric had a pension for trade. He began with spices and herbs, then expanded to silks and fineries. Before long, he had cornered imports and exports between two small islands. Aspirations did not end here, however, for Henric also became keen on passing his holdings to his son in due time. Coin and notes collected from Henric's operations funded Alexander’s schooling—much to the disappointment of the restless lad.
As England grew more and more commercial, so too did lending money become more important. In the early years of Alexander’s life, goldsmiths lent and changed money. In 1640, King Charles I confiscated gold, which London merchants had deposited at the mint for safety. Afterwards people began to deposit money with goldsmiths instead. The goldsmiths gave receipts for the gold in the form of notes promising to pay on demand. In time, merchants and tradesmen began to exchange these notes as a form of money. The goldsmiths realized that not all of their customers would withdraw their gold at the same time. So it was safe to issue notes for more gold than they actually had. They could then lend money using the extra notes. The Bank of England was founded in 1694. That is getting ahead of ourselves, however.
The year was now 1636. Alexander was now in his 37th year. Alexander had long since finished his schooling and was well on his way to being a successful merchant, as was his father. He had even purchased a plot of land and acquired new social position in doing so. This granted him access to more wealthy members of society, often meeting during gatherings for the theatre (an expense well worth the cost). His 37th year, however, also brought about the same death and ruin as his childhood. Plague struck for a second time. The population dwindled as it had before, but as before, it would rebuild. Some saw it as an act of God, punishing the wicked. Some saw it as a culling, nature ridding itself of the filth that lurked the dark alleys of London. Whatever the reason for it, Alexander's life did not cease. Well… in a manner of speaking.
Alexander himself had, before his 38th year, contracted the plague. Whether by some strong irony or bad luck, it was he who was now falling to the mire. Days before what would have been his natural passing, Cristof, a fellow landowner paid him a visit. Cristof was of curious nature all his own, being that he seldom was seen, save but at nightly events. It was led to be believed that he had a condition in which the sun gave him rashes or some such, and so his ability to be social was lowered, though not ruined in its entirety. It didn’t affect him economically, as he had men tending to his affairs through the day.
“Such a sad state to find you in, my dear Alexander. You have so much potential. I can see it in you. I can feel it in you.” Cristof’s words drawn in by the dying man’s ears, yet admittedly there were times he could not comprehend them. “I will not let your Empire fall. You have only just begun! Accept my Gift to you. Rebuild yourself from your current state. Rise ever higher, until the Heavens themselves part to accept you. This is your task, young one. This is your charge.”
Silence, and then pain. Immense pain. A burning, searing, overwhelming pain. Alexander wanted to scream. He wanted to yell for help, but no words came to him. Whether it was his own physical lack of strength, or the man now clinging to his neck, draining what life remained within him—he could not scream. But this moment was not all that he experienced, oh no. No, in but mere moments, the fear was replaced with a soothing calm and acceptance. Alexander began to crave this Dark Kiss. His mouth grew wet, his mind swirled in ecstasy. He was lost in it.
Cristof, having consumed what was needed of Alexander, pulled himself back. The word “drink” was all Alexander could comprehend, though he was sure more was said. It faded immediately from thought when he felt the Vitae of the immortal grace his tongue. Like a starved babe to his mother’s teet, he drank. And drank. And drank. Fingers clenched around Cristof’s forearm, holding him in place. Pull after pull, wave after wave passed into him, replenishing what was once lost. Cristof had been his Angel, cleansing him of what was causing his death and replacing it instead with everlasting life… all on the single charge of building an Empire. It wasn’t until Cristof pressed his foot to Alexander’s chest that he was finally freed from the Fledgling’s grip.
The next moments to pass were perhaps the most detrimental he had ever experienced. A pain far worse than fangs pricking his flesh now gripped him. A terror so surreal that God himself could have heard Alexander’s cries. The yells were audible now as Alexander’s passage into unlife gripped him. The vomit wasn’t the worst of it, nor was the fact that he soiled himself. The worst part of it was the pain. The feeling as though his flesh would tear from bone and he would corrode in the very spot he had stained. But the Embrace works in mysterious ways… for that pain, that damnable suffering, was soon replaced with a thirst—a hunger—that Alexander had never known.
[Still under construction.]
Notes:
His last name is pronounced "day-man-war". Alexander is left-handed. His back bares a single, large scar, spanning from his lower left back to the right shoulder in a diagonal pattern. Though his eyesight does not need correcting (courtesy of unlife), Alexander often wears prescriptionless glasses.
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