Parfait. L'imitation du "méchant, vieil homme" avait dupé tout le monde, et Mithias a perdu les deux enquêteurs en "disparu" autour d'un coin. Maintenant, au sommet d'un bâtiment, Mithias a caché sa silhouette. En dessous, il avait un manteau différent, deux épées, un fouet enroulé, une paire robuste de bottes, ceinture, et un gilet en cuir dur. Un chapeau à larges bords accroché sur le dos d'un cordon autour du cou. Un léger sourire trahit son excitation intérieure sur l'information qu'il avait recueillie. Une fête de chasse sortait ce soir. Certains jeunes chasseurs feraient leurs premiers meurtres, ou mourraient, mais le risque était supposé être faible avec un si grand groupe. Mithias s'est envolé vers l'endroit.
Ses vieux sens en alerte, le vampire voyou a traqué le groupe d'humains. Il y a eu quelques heures sans action, mais dès que la lumière a diminué pour critiquer, il a détecté l'immortelle fête de chasse. En s'éloignant également de leur chemin, il surveillait leurs membres, leurs dirigeants, leurs forces, en les regroupant. Les prendre tous serait stupide, mais peut-être qu'il pourrait faire aux humains une petite faveur...
Jarleth ressemblait à une proie facile. Ne connaissant pas encore son nom, Mithias a vu ce qui allait se passer. Un loup-garou lui est apparu, faisant un saut incroyable avec une hauteur et une vitesse extrêmes. Plongée au bon moment, en un éclair de noir et d'acier, Mithias a coupé les deux pattes avant du loup. Le corps lourd s'est encore écrasé dans le jeune chasseur humain pendant que la bête atterrissait, mais oh comment il hurlait et bowling sur. Le loup-garou n'a jamais vu ce qui l'a frappé. Le sang était partout. Coeur froid, et soif, Mithias n'apparaissait rien de plus qu'une paire d'yeux rouges qui brillent doucement dans l'obscurité. Le chasseur humain était évidemment paniqué alors qu'il se retirait et s'emparait d'armes. Mithias a fait un pas en avant lent. Le loup-garou s'est déplacé vers la forme humaine. Il manquait des mains et il saignait des souches. Un monstre lui-même, Mithias a fait un geste vers la créature. "Votre ennemi est la souffrance. N'avez-vous pas pitié?" Il a demandé à Jarleth.
Mithias Aldaric Varomere


"Do not lose hope, for I am still here."
Nickname: None.
Age: 716
Looks: 27
Gender: M
Sexuality: Mostly asexual and withdrawn from the world of love.
Species: Vampire.
Role: Unaffiliated with any coven. Mithias is an outsider of unknown parentage, a bastard vampire.
Appearance: The most noticeable aspect of Mithias' appearance isn't his strikingly gold eyes or his unnaturally alabaster skin, it's his exceptionally long, shining, straight, black hair. You don't know if he has any tattoos, because you haven't beaten him enough to tear his bloody clothing from his corpse. However, you can't see any piercings so far, and who knows what else those two swords he's holding are protecting. His fangs are small, but his nails are fairly strong and sharp. What was his power again? Oh yes, determination.
Personality: Mithias is hard to get to know. He's quiet most of the time, yet it seems he revels in nature, pausing to take an unnecessarily deep breath of forest air or to watch light puncture clouds in dancing rays. He must have been made from a very disciplined and patient human. It is curious who he may have been. He is never cruel. He kills, but is swift about it, seemingly never feeling regret in anything he does. A person like that should be at peace... but he isn't. The poor chap struggles with purposelessness, self doubt, ever fighting to strike a balance between forces he shouldn't need to meddle with. He seems to be after some crazy notion of redemption, wrestling with time, destiny, and the meaning of it all. Mithias is a servant without a master.
History: Mithias was born sometime near the end of the 13th century in eastern Europe. If I cared, I would probably place him in present day Germany, but the exact country stopped mattering centuries ago. It was the time of the Templars and the crusades, and just before their fall. He couldn't claim to be completely unaffiliated with the order of knights, no one could at the time, but his family did have an alternative primary investment. They hunted the undead and unholy apostates, demons, and the like that plagued the dark and the unseen corners of their world. The things the Templars should have been concerned about but were too busy acquiring the riches of the east and the "holy lands." It was in this endeavor that Mithias came to be a product of his quarry, a god among vampires, yet not the devil himself. Laughable how the poor boy had no idea.
Egregiously tortured by the change, Mithias found a myriad of suicides futile, much to his dismay. After an age, he pulled himself together and vowed vengeance against the vile beast that turned him and destroyed at its leisure. Encounters with his maker have been few and far between. Mithias was compelled to develop a mental barrier against his sire, which has served him well against other foes. His mind is impossible to influence or read against his will. Pathetic in his hunting, Mithias devotes himself to lesser causes until such time as destiny will grant his wish for revenge.
Focused on staying alive long enough to achieve his ultimate goal, Mithias has chosen his targets carefully and vanquished them with caution. He strives to defend humans by taking out what enemies he can, but he is often forced to work alone. Modern human hunters will not accept him, for obvious reasons, but his name is known among their inner circles.
Other: Mithias tends to defend humanity. He feeds off the wicked if at all possible and will also drink from his immortal enemies. That's probably a sin most covens.