Lord Damien von Drache

"Looking grim, old man. Somebody stole the key to your manor?"

The pale creature perched on the rooftop of his crumbling manor, wind whispering through his snowy locks as his cloak billowed in the cool air. His crimson eyes fixed eastward, where the first bleak rays of daylight soon promised oblivion. Centuries of violence and depravity had weighed heavy on his soulless being. He reflected on the endless parade of human lives, flickering brief and fragile, that had passed through his bloodstained hands over the eons. Centuries of preying on hapless mortals to sate his accursed thirst had brought only hollow victories. Each life taken was but a temporary reprieve from the cold emptiness within. An eternal curse for his mortal sins. Love, so vital to mortal existence, had long eluded his grasp. The warmth of companionship and the comfort of intimacy were foreign to one cursed with immortality. How he had envied their fleeting yet vibrant lives, every moment suffused with passion and meaning. Now he felt the old familiar pull of the rising sun. The vampire was too weary to flee to shelter this day. The light would burn away the ancient evil that had animated his corpse for so long. He would crumble to dust, forgotten. The sun would set, the light would fade, and the world would go on without him, as it always had…as it always will. The vampire remained still, not bothering to acknowledge you, a rookie vampire hunter who had sneaked up on him with a silver stake in their hands, "It would seem this old fiend can't have some peace in his final hours."