William Martin Intermediate Vampire
Basic Information
Name William Martin
Pronouns He/Him
Age 202
Birthday Jul 13
Height 5' 7
Eyes Brown
Face Claim Patrick Stewart
Locations
Residence Location
Occupation Arms Dealer / Thespian
Vehicle 2018 Rolls Royce Wraith, Gunmetal
Vampire Stats
Age turned 75
Supernatural Eye Color Gray
First Ability Healing
Second Ability None
Power/Animal Description Healing - Having been at it for quite some time, William is quite proficient with his ability, able to undo injuries and significantly increase rapidity of recovery from illness. He's also intimately familiar with the strange consequences of his power. It seems to drain the supernatural "pool," as it were. With a little bit of healing, senses fade to a normal level. A bit more and his strength returns to that of a (seventy-five year old) human. A significant investment will then rob him of his speed, followed by the ability to Suggest, access to his animal form, and finally the animus of his corpse at all, leaving him in dead sleep until the following evening. It can be a risky endeavor.

Animal form - William can assume the appearance of a trumpeter swan, all white plumage and black bill and feet. It's a large bird, though mostly neck, with a wingspan of nearly ten feet.
Psychic Stats
Age turned 75
Supernatural Eye Color Gray
First Ability Healing
Second Ability None
Third Ability None
Power Description Healing - Having been at it for quite some time, William is quite proficient with his ability, able to undo injuries and significantly increase rapidity of recovery from illness. He's also intimately familiar with the strange consequences of his power. It seems to drain the supernatural "pool," as it were. With a little bit of healing, senses fade to a normal level. A bit more and his strength returns to that of a (seventy-five year old) human. A significant investment will then rob him of his speed, followed by the ability to Suggest, access to his animal form, and finally the animus of his corpse at all, leaving him in dead sleep until the following evening. It can be a risky endeavor.

Animal form - William can assume the appearance of a trumpeter swan, all white plumage and black bill and feet. It's a large bird, though mostly neck, with a wingspan of nearly ten feet.
Were Stats
Age turned 75
Supernatural Eye Color Gray
Animal Appearance
Appearance
In many ways William appears harmless: clearly past his prime, often shuffling about due to mild arthritis in his joints, wearing an absent little smile as his resting expression. He dresses well enough, enjoying nice coats and usually some form of slack. Shirts can vary, frequently collared and buttoned, but just as often a simple sweater.
Personality
This appearance suits him well, for William largely regards himself as harmless. Oh yes, he must feed, and this always carries the chance of bloodlust, but two things mitigate this. One, he's a remarkable healer and usually perfectly happy to inconvenience himself somewhat for another's benefit. Two, if his unfortunate victim does find themself murdered before he comes back to his senses, well, that's not really his fault. He didn't choose to bloodlust. A tragic eventuality of the odds.

It would be dishonest to say he abhors violence, but he certainly never engages with it personally if it can possibly be helped. He doesn't wish ill on mankind, cattle though they may be. It's very sad when one dies, inevitable as it is. He will mourn is his own little heartfelt way. Then move on. As one might with a bird that flies into a plate glass window.
History
Oh, human life. How long has it been now? No, no, not since the dying, I mean the whole of it. Though I take your meaning. It does seem the least relevant part of existence, doesn't it, all that came before the dying? But now let's see. I lose track, the years passing by so much faster than they used to. I'm certain it's much worse for some others. But 1818, yes, that stands out. Oh! Easy maths these days! I shall be two hundred and two this year. Goodness...

I was born back east, where most people lived at that time. Oh, most American people, I mean to say. In the sense of citizens of the United States. Which of course you know many people living within this nation were not considered as such. Although as I understand it, there's a still a bit of that occurring. But I don't mean to bore you with politics, so we'll just skirt around that, hmm? Yes.

My father was a gunsmith of some small repute, and so naturally I took up the same vocation.There was little in the way of mass production at the time, so it was a lucrative but time-consuming job. I think the precision of it appealed to me. But also it was the only life I knew. We moved westward as it became more enticing to do so. You see, my father—and I after him, if you'll forgive a little self flattery—was a shrewd businessman and knew the continuing conflicts as the map expanded would see great demand for his services. Hmm? Indeed, I agree, it was quite horrible. A great many acts were committed which should not have been. I of course refrained. I've never...

Hmm... Chances are very good you'll not recall this. Very well, yes. I engaged in some barbarism. It was... the thing to do. Not my proudest endeavors but it was, ha, another life.

In any case, I did take over fully once my father passed. I was barely a man yet, out of my teens, I believe, but who can recall. Hmm? Oh yes, that is young I suppose, but it wasn't uncommon. Life expectancy wasn't what it is now, you must understand. Well I continued this business, settling in what would eventually become New Mexico. It was pleasant being indispensable, and I made a comfortable little life.

Of course, need drives innovation and there was some vast disagreement that brought overwhelming need for firearms. This I truly did abstain from, having had my fill of violence as a younger man. I was... let's see. In my forties, I believe, when this civil war began. And I really had no stake in it. Not in either cause, at least. I did happen to make something of a fortune supplying arms to smaller companies, ranchers and other civilians that sought greater protection or, ah, whatever they chose to do with the merchandise. It really wasn't my business.

The innovation I spoke of, however, quickly put me out of work as a craftsman. Bigger businesses than I, names that persist still, had cornered the market, as it were. With mass production capabilities and the need for more and more machining, gunsmith simply wasn't a viable private profession any longer. Fortunately gun merchant increasingly was, and I had something of a happy knack for it.

This was a lovely period of my life, surprisingly uneventful given the excitement going on all about. The cowboy era, yes? Cattle drives and, admittedly, further hostile encounters. But very little of that for me. Ha. I was quite happy to set up shop and play the middleman, acquiring whatever it was the more roughneck fellows got it in their heads they needed. Even so, the years seemed to pass by... hmm, too quickly. Already I wasn't precisely a young man, but it seemed far too soon I became an old one. It was then, after a good bit of aging—like a good wine, she'd said—that I met her.

Oh, she was... Do you know I've known some rather good poets, but I've never much been one myself. So words that could capture her, do the splendor of her being any manner of justice... Ah, I just don't know them. Or how to arrange them well at least, hmm? Yes. Pity, for she was... quite extraordinary. And she took a significant fondness for me. Ha, ha ha, I couldn't to this day tell you why. I think that bothered me then, the not knowing. The not feeling worthy. I've grown quite a lot since, which I suppose is odd to say of a man already probably seventy years old, but here we are. I've learned to simply accept certain things that others see which I cannot. I do recommend it.

We were very happy together. Or I was, and I believe she was. She was always such a mystery to me, even after years. Decades, though those came later. She seemed joyous. I believe she loved me as I her, but you know I could never be sure. This is the way of love, I think. You give yourself to someone and you're deliriously happy about it and it seems for all the world they're in the same place, and you have no reason to believe otherwise but it's just so unthinkable that so resplendent a creature could regard you as you do them. Ah... I recommend that as well. Do try and fall in love at some point if you possibly can.

Oh yes, she was a vampire, of course. She fed on me regularly. We would take meals together at the table as any good couple. Not simultaneously precisely; how unsanitary that could become. I'd eat about half my meal, she'd partake, and in the pleasant—if you'll forgive the comparison—afterglow, I would finish up. It became a wonderful part of our nightly ritual. I remained human for convenience's sake, able to walk in the sun at any hour. It kept me much frailer than her, yes, but she kept a little of her blood in me should the worst occur. And also I had... I don't rightly recall when it happened, but I had developed some convenient little ability to seal up cuts and the like. You know, little things, with just a touch. Very good for fixing her up after she'd give me a dose of medicine.

But after, oh, five years or so? We decided it was really best to preempt any great drop off in my health. "Billy," she said to me. Ah, that was how I was called back then. Billy. "I really do think it's frightfully past time you join me." And then, with the complications and, ah, well, inevitable mishaps of a fresh vampire to contend with, we shortly after departed my longtime home that had become ours. We traveled to Europe. Eventually, ha. It was quite the trek with me an unmoving corpse half the time. But she knew how it was done. She had journeyed all the way to the states, after all. Oh yes, she was originally from England.

Hmm? Yes, that is true. I haven't described her much. I did say I was no poet. But yes, I take your meaning. But... no. No, I don't think I will. No, not even her name. I hope you'll forgive me but I only have her in my memory now, and it is a precious thing. Her I keep for myself.

In any case, as we traveled about I was actually able to put my expertise to quite good use. Making contacts, you see. Meeting suppliers, transporters. Once upon a time, particularly back home, the free transporting and reselling of munitions was entirely legal. There was no regulation to be had on the matter, really. Increasingly this was not the case and the licensing and legalities were, you understand, problematic for one coming to terms with a new nature. So I simply ignored them, learned to operate with sufficient subtlety and guile so as not to have troubles. Hiccups occurred, surely, but they were never too hard to overcome with, ah, a well phrased suggestion or two. I can be... quite persuasive.

This took some focus and time to really get going, but by the time we settled into London around the turn of the century it was well enough established that attention could be put to other things. And you may laugh at this, but what drew ours was the theatre. Now I had no inherent interest and certainly no experience with stage productions, but she had a long-running passion for it and was able to reconnect with a collection of lovely people. Ah, vampires, yes. Very accommodating individuals, wonderful to know. They ran a small theatre and...

I beg your pardon, but what's funny? Oh, yes, I am familiar with the book. Yes, and the film. I can see why your mind would go there. It was nothing so macabre, not overall. There were the more... flamboyantly vampiric members of the group, but they could be tempered reasonably.

In any case, I was dreadful as an actor to begin. Oh, it brings embarrassment to even think of it now, ha ha. But I improved as one will with dedication. And a great deal of time helps as well. Thanks to costumes and masks, we were able obscure any unnatural longevity in our performers. This became a little more complicated as the century wore on and both photography and video recordings grew more advanced, but we adapted.

It was... Hmm, no, this isn't a difficult date to recall. Well, yes it is, but in the painful sense rather than the blurry. I don't... I'm very sorry, I don't wish to speak of it, but suffice to say it was in the 1960's when I lost her. And... yes, I suppose I am not hiding it particularly well at the moment, but I never have quite gotten over it.

But life, or some approximation of it, does go on. I broke from the clutch, perhaps in a bit of a self destructive spiral, but I couldn't very well continue in exactly the way I had been with her now that she was gone from me. I rededicated myself to the weaponry scene. Oh no, no, certainly not like that. Can you imagine an old man like me waving about heavy modern instruments of war? Well, yes, true, I do have the strength for it, but good gracious, how conspicuous. No no, I remain a behind the scenes sort of presence in such ugliness. It's only gotten more lucrative, if I'm being honest, and money solves many problems that even my words cannot.

Only recently, the last year or two, have I returned to America. I suppose there's some nostalgic fondness, yes, though after over a century it's really quite far from recognizable. It was the announcement, the New York incident, that brought me back. Alarming, yes, but it made me curious. Yet after the briefest investigation I thought it best to distance myself from the region. So here we are.

Hmm? Oh yes, yes indeed. Many gaps. I left quite a great deal out, but my goodness, sir, how long would we be sitting here if I truly strove to tell all. No, no. Already I am parched from so much of my own blather. So if you could... Yes, there's a good fellow. Chin lifted a little more? Yes, thank you so much. This won't hurt but a little.
Other
Speaks with the faintest middle class British dialect
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