Vampiric HistoryHis first couple of years were the hardest, and the riskiest, though Charon was a smart man. He ensured that his thirst was always slaked so that the beast within him did not take over and make him an unthinking creature. This was one of the few pieces of advice his sire left him. Other advice pointed out to him were the things that would lead to his destruction; fire, sunlight and decapitation. It was also hinted to him, during the long conversation upon his deathbed, that there was also a realm of mental powers to practise, and that many things were possible. With no boundaries in sight, Charon sought to discover every mental attribute that was available to him. Still, without a sire, it took him longer to learn than most.
Initially he stuck with what he knew, to be a merchant, to buy and sell. Since he was now limited to nights, he became well known for the darker side of the market; smuggling items of taboo, obtaining hard to find items and, once he managed to perfect the art of reading minds, selling information. He continued in this vein for twenty years until he was forced to move on to avoid arousing suspicion due to his age. Rumours persisted that he was a dying man, based on his appearance. He didn\'t quell them, but it made his business a difficult one to maintain for long.
It was on his hundredth year that he found himself going into the earth via a network of caves, compelled to seek out the deepest and safest spot free from the prying eyes of mankind. After feasting on a number of bats that lived there - gorging himself on their blood by drawing them near to him with a Domination technique he\'d taught himself - he went to sleep and didn\'t wake up until just under nine hundred years later.
Upon rediscovering humankind in the form of travellers, he was initially bewildered by their reactions to him; horror, curiosity, disgust, fear. Once he found himself a mirror and gazed at his own reflection, he understood. The sleep had taken a toll on his appearance, causing his already sickly body and face to shrivel and become gaunt, taking on a more batlike appearance with protruding nose, mouth and jaw, squinting eyes, creases in his face and body that looked like scars but were actually folded skin, and a pallour so very white. He blamed his last feasting on bats for this travesty that had befallen him and vowed never to hibernate again, even if he felt the calling, he would ignore it lest he turn into a beast that didn\'t even remotely pass for human. He couldn\'t do so now either, without drawing stares of repulsion, but at least those citizens that cast their eyes on him thought that he was merely a poor old human man suffering a terrible wasting disease, and weren\'t accusing him of being not human at all.
This new world he woke up into was fascinating to him, and he didn\'t wish to miss what appeared to be the centre of activity. He travelled to Rome for it had become the capital of a magnificent Empire, and there he had a lucrative business due to the gladitorial bouts that were held in the Colosseum, hiding his face behind an actor\'s mask that he declared was to protect his privacy. He found himself seduced by the strength of the Roman Empire, wanting to be a part of it so badly that he heralded it as his own, no longer claiming his native land to be Greece. His business was successful, for he\'d always known how to be successful, even before he\'d been able to glean intentions from people\'s minds. Not once did he meet another of his kind, during long walks around the city at night, and so he felt completely isolated and utterly alone. He was lonely, he craved another, and even though he\'d never had a fond outlook on those who shared his curse, he wanted so badly to meet others - those beings who would understand, who would not (might not) shy away from him.
His desires were eventually answered on one of his nightly walks, when two young men were weaving a drunken path through the city streets. They were dressed in the uniforms of junior officers in a Centurian squadron, one of them had the insignia of a flagbearer, a noble position though one reserved for those brave enough (or foolhardy enough) to face battle armed with a flagpole instead of a sword. They held his attention for two main reasons; they were glorious exhibits of the typical Roman soldier, and they were twins.
Twins were magical, mystical gifts of the pantheon. To have twin brothers, both majestic examples of the human race, beautiful, muscular and athletic, was awe inspiring. He followed them, skulking in shadows and smiling to himself at their laughter and drunken songs. They leant on each other, joked with one another, supported one another as they almost tripped each other over on the paved roads. He wouldn\'t show himself to such beings - they were too close to perfection for him to dare show his face. However, as fate would have it, his hand was forced, for three thieves braved the two soldiers (likely because they were drunk and unable to properly defend themselves) and threatened them their lives in exchange for the small pouches tied to their belts. Charon was horrified that dirty thieves would even dare approach these two, and watched with growing anger as the brothers were shoved around and one had his money pouch cut off him, slicing his hand in the process and drawing an offended cry. Not a cry of pain either, and it was this that moved Charon into action. These men were soldiers protecting the lands these thieves would turn to ruin, and they were being disrespected and wounded without drawn weapons. Rushing to their aid, he dispatched the cutthroats in front of the twins.
After a hasty and bloody rescue, he paused for a singular moment as he caught both young men in his gaze. Both stared at him, surprised, and he waited for their expressions to turn into disgust so he could flee, but before that happened, he was thanked exhuberantly and asked many questions about how he\'d managed to move so fast it was a blur. The young soldiers had mostly sobered by this stage, out of necessity. Their accepting manner and curious nature won Charon\'s heart that first night. They were perfection. He loved them both completely.
(Charon's history intermingled with
Sacramentum history )