Vlar is a vampire that is fed up with being a vampire, but accepts his fate. He tires of the aimless wandering that is his life, and seeks to find something more, entertaining. Aside from that, Vlar is as he is. He delights in gratifying himself, and sile
Several years of observing liars and deceivers has caused Vlar to distrust the human race. Instead, he finds himself to be the only trustworthy being he knows. Vlar also carries himself with a weight of sorrow, as he's spent so many years doing the same thing day in and day out. Such a life, which seemed so appealing at first, has become a burden, and he simply wanders aimlessly looking for more of a purpose.
Vlar carries with him his family crest; a 35 inch black sword with a leather reinforced cross guard grip. It was passed down to him when he was an adolescent, as it was passed to his father before him. The blade itself has it's own unique properties. When withdrawn from the sheath, it resonates with a thick fog, that intensifies the longer it's unsheathed. The fog dissipates when the sword is returned to it's scabbard.
When you have lived in this mortal world for the first several hundred years, the time seems to pass you by without the slightest hint of a greeting. You get so caught up in the moment, and the glory of immortality, that you do not give a moment of your precious time to things like reality, and truth. So caught up in the fairy tale and the stories of a misshapen utopia that you lose tract of the facts. After living past my first seven centuries, I've watched men come and go, live and die, knowing full well that I will never join them on their final journey. I will never know what it is like to sleep, and never wake up. Not even if I trick myself into a state of death, locked away in some coffin in a forgotten mausoleum for a thousand, pointless years, will I know what it is like to truly rest. And it is all because of a dolled up promise made by a corpse that has forgotten how to decay. He whispered sweet nothings into my ear, convinced me to take that which was his, and banish me to this alternate reality that I see every day. When will this end? This, continuous cycle of meaningless? When will this 'perfect life concealed by the darkness' provide that which I seek? Perhaps it never will, and that is my fate. Nay, my damnation! So I say to you, yes you, the reader of this 'would-be' epitaph, avoid the night, and give not into the fallacies of walking death. Less you too be sucked into this cursed world filled with beautiful nothings, lurking behind every corner.
-Vlar Nal Shayne