Name: Zephyr Pierce
Age: 28 (looks) 4,698 (actual)
Family: Orphan
Species: Vampire - Turned
Rank: Nomad
Faceclaim: Ian Somerhalder

Trustworthy | Loyal | Honorable | Fierce
Brooding | Unhinged | Closed off | Self Deprecating

20th Century B.C. was a very chaotic, harsh and violent time to be alive, for it seemed like the very air itself could turn against you on a whim. The land was lush and green and vibrant, often stretching as far as the eye could see with not a thing to mar the natural beauty but looks can be deceiving. For nature, back then, was more treacherous and wild than even the hearts of men, leaving humanity no choice but to band together in communities or perish. Survival wasn’t just about the force of will or the resourcefulness of an individual, one’s name and circumstances played into whether one lived or died and for me it was a lucky happenstance that allowed me to live past birth. Looking back on it now I’m not sure if it was really luck at all, more a cruel servant of Fate gearing up for a game of sport to be played with my suffering as the spectacle.

My mother was a woman of loose morals who died bringing me into this world and my father was a man whose name and face I will never know nor have I cared to find out. For all intents and purposes I should have died moments following my mother for, in those times most people had little use for an orphan infant. It was a stroke of pure luck however that she had been traveling through Lord Alden Gryffin’s lands, for amidst all the rumors and superstition surrounding him and his family Lord Gryffin had a reputation for being kind and generous. They tell me I was brought to him a squalling babe of mere hours old, hungry and red faced he held me while his advisors urged him to do away with yet another mouth to feed. Bouncing in his arms I quieted, my small fingers reflexively curling around his large index finger while his wife looked over his shoulder crooning softly. I cannot tell you what passed between that man and myself that day, but for the years following he became my idol and champion more a father than any young man could ever hope for or dream to have.

Lord Gryffin handed me off to a wet nurse, Walda, granting me life beneath his roof and just before she whisked me away he stroked my head tenderly and gave me my name: Renshaw. In the old language it meant forest of ravens and it served two purposes, the first to ward off any lingering bad luck from the deeds of my mother and because of the head of raven black hair that crowned my head straight out of the womb. I spent the next few years mostly in the kitchens, following Walda around while she tended to her chores though occasionally Lord Gryffin would come and visit or take me with him as he went on business around the castle. At the time I had no idea that the Lord and Lady were using me, the couple having lost their son only days before my arrival looked upon me as a sort of surrogate. Though the entire province was aware, they turned a blind eye letting the mourning couple transfer their grief onto a less fortunate child.

Eventually they became pregnant again though, bringing another son into the fold this one much stronger and heartier than the last. As a stand in they had no more use for me but the Lord was still kind, and honorable, and determined to look after me. When I turned 8 he handed me over to the blacksmith who took me on as his apprentice, an honor that should have by rights been given to some wealthy merchant’s son whose father could pay for his training. Lord Griffin’s word was law however, which sealed my future giving me a far better one than I could have ever asked for. Even at such a tender age I knew the lengths he was going to in order to take care of me and I threw myself into the task of learning with a relish that pleased even the surly blacksmith Hamish.

Learning before the forge and anvil was back breaking, sweaty work that left me exhausted at the end of each day. With each passing year Hamish taught me more of the craft until we worked together side by side and it gave me great honor and fulfillment to know that I was arming Lord Griffin’s soldiers. Having grown up within the castle walls I knew everyone under its crenelations and they likewise knew me, and over time they became my family. Lord and Lady Griffin invited me to their table regularly, the Captain of the Guard taught me the art of swordplay, and I even became friends with the little Lord Tomkin. Though we were only 5 years apart he seemed so much younger than me in many aspects and I looked upon him as a younger brother, doling out advice and keeping a watchful eye out whenever I could.

By the time I became a man in full my body had filled out considerably, hours spent wielding hammers and lifting molten metal and pumping billows over the flames of the great forge and pressing steel to stone had built up an impressive amount of muscle mass. Ropes of sinew tightly packed to a long, tall frame that towered over just about everyone though I still retained my signature mop of raven black hair. Hamish barely lifted a finger in the forge by then, only offering small words of advice here and there while taking the orders and keeping track of the books. After nearly 40 years of service under the Lord Griffin he had earned the right to relax and let a younger man do the heavy lifting. When I wasn’t working on weapons and armor I was training with the others in the fields, though I could never be number among the household guards I was a swordsman of great skill. Life was simple but good and as I’ve come to learn in my many years upon this Earth good never lasts.

They came upon us in the dead of night, when most of us were in the deepest depths of sleep and those keeping watch had to pace in order to stay alert. It was early spring, the weather at night was chilly and the constant rains produced a thick fog that obscured everything around the castle walls casting deep shadows beyond the circles of firelight. I couldn’t say what had woken me, I’d spent several days before that repairing suits of armor which was perhaps the hardest part of my trade. Moving hundreds of pounds of protective metal each day until every muscle in my body trembled with the effort of just keeping myself upright and yet I was pulled from a deep sleep, an unsettling knot in the pit of my stomach and the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

I sat up confused and disoriented, at first all I heard was Hamish snoring in the next room and steady crackle of the fire in the forges below, but then I picked up on the whining of the dogs in their pens and the restless stamping of the horses down in the stable. That’s when I heard the wails, echoing through the white soupy mists sounding like a hundred restless wraiths crying out in terror and pain. The longer I listened the more eerie the sounds became, a bone deep dread taking root in the center of my chest as I slowly came to realize that what I was hearing were actual screams. As surely as a thrown hammer would shatter a window the realization broke whatever spell had fallen over those awake but by then it was too late. An enemy had snuck upon them, using the mist as cover and they needed to act quickly or all would be lost. More screams pierced the night, shouts of alarm and pain that sounded from within the keep which spurred off more confusion, without grappling hooks or ladders how had they gotten inside?

As soldiers poured out of the barracks scrambling for their armor and a direction in which to head, women and children were running for cover while the baying of the hounds seemed overly loud. Yet there was no noise coming from the other side of the wall, no roar or battlecry from the besieging army or even so much as a rumbling of footsteps that should have come from the hundreds of approaching soldiers. That’s when people began disappearing, and not just in a figurative sense. Right before my eyes the baker’s wife darted out from beneath the verandah over the back entrance to the kitchens and before she could take even 5 steps she vanished, her wailing scream faded out before being cut off completely.

Chaos erupted, people ran in all directions fully thrown into flight mode against the unseen force of evil set against them and it was indeed evil that had come to pray upon us. They crawled over the walls like spiders, living shadows that moved faster than the eye could see leaving corpses in their wake. There was no telling how many were in their party or even what they were but we knew they were out to kill us and that was enough. Staying alive became a game of chance, dodging fate as we desperately tried to find a way out but alas it was all for naught.

It was one of the longest and bloodiest nights of my life, the creatures fell upon the occupants of the castle like rabid demons tearing them apart until the cobblestones in the courtyard couldn’t be seen for the corpses that littered the grounds. As the sky began to brighten in the east those who were still breathing were dragged down to the dungeons and by dawn most of the poor souls who had called the Province their home were dead. Those of us still breathing had counted ourselves lucky, little did we know our hell was only just beginning and we would be begging for death before long.

Throughout the day the survivors rallied, healing wounds and huddling together, anticipating when our captors would come down to us and what they would want. I remained in a corner of the cell, apart from the others as I mourned for the family that took me in. Lord and Lady Griffin had been killed before I could get to them, slaughtered in their chambers though from the looks of it both had put up a fight. Tomkin I watched die, saw the dark shadow detach itself from the wall stalking him until it stepped into a pool of firelight materializing into a beautiful woman. She’d spoken to him, held him with her gaze and the moment she’d been able to reach out to him she yanked him forward as if he weighed little more than a napkin, sinking her teeth into his neck and he struggled under her brutal grasp. I will never be able to get the sight scrubbed from my memory, the vision of that demoness ripping my little brother’s throat out forever embedded in my mind’s eye for all eternity.

When the sun once again sank below the horizon they came upon us, this time showing their faces and moving at speeds that we could track. They moved among us, taking stock as if we were cattle and they spoke as if they were in for a very long siege. Much to our surprise they found a few that could cook and provided them with supplies enough to make a meal, even setting a watch that made sure that we all ate our fill and received proper care for our injuries. It was a strange thing to do considering the brutal attack from the night before but as time wore on it became apparent what their plan was and death would have been more preferable.

The vampires kept us alive to serve the purpose of feeding them, we became blood slaves useful only in the capacity in which we could produce the sustenance they needed and when an individual could no longer serve they were disposed of. I couldn’t begin to fathom how long I was kept in that dungeon, I didn’t even attempt to keep up with time as it was a waste of energy and effort. Life became a series of automatic responses that were forced upon me: eat, drink, clean, be fed upon, sleep, repeat. Occasionally we were taken to bathe and they even had the foresight to make sure that our cells were cleaned regularly, couldn’t have the food getting sick after all. Our captors had a terms for what we were and as distasteful as it was it was an accurate summation of all that we had become and all that we were living as: blood slaves.

Curiously there was one female in their number who took a particular interest in me, to which I couldn’t quite account for. Her name, as she told me, was Maura and despite the ridicule she faced from her brethren she made sure that I was always well fed and on more than one occasion fought the others to keep me safe. I resented her, hated her even for the lengths she went to in order to keep me alive for I had become no better than her favored pet. She took my blood and gave me blood in return to keep me strong, as the others began dropping like flies from being fed on by too many too often. An attraction I didn’t understand nor did I want bloomed between us and I found myself needing to be in her presence, looking for her every time the door to the dungeons opened. It was inevitable however that as the food source dwindled the harder it was to keep me to herself and at long last I thought my end had come, that I would be granted the release of death and all the peace that came with it.

Alas that was not my fate, no matter how much I might have wished to be drained dry Maura’s obsession drove her to lengths that preserved my life. I’d been snatched by one of her brethren, hardly feeling his bite I’d waited and prayed for that final breath to leave my lips when she had ripped me away and whisked me to some secret part of the castle. Unable to let me die she bit me but this time it was different, I felt no rush of adrenaline or listless bliss instead a great burning pain spread like poison through my system. I felt as the venom pushed its way through reluctant veins like toxic sludge taking over my body one slow inch at a time. The excruciating agony swallowed me whole, sinking its teeth into flesh, bone, and sinew to reshape and reform. I turned at some point to throw up what little I had in my stomach and lost sight of Maura, my guardian disappeared and I never saw her again.

Shouts of alarms filtered through the spasming of my limbs and the sounds battle occasionally broke through the haze violent retching. Just as quickly as the tide had come in it receded, sounds and smells became sharper and though I was weak I could feel a new found strength running through my veins. An animal thirst punched a hole in my throat as I rolled over with a groan looking up into faces set with overzealous righteousness and hatred. Their scents made my mouth water and my lips peel back from fangs that had not been there before but I was too weak to do much more than hiss and whine and groan. That was the third time in my existence that the fate of kindness and compassion turned her back on me, forsaking my pleas for mercy and condemning me to a terrible fate.

That very night of my turning a group of devout members of a faithful covenant snuck upon the castle at the break of dawn, their superior numbers combined with high training and the rising of the sun gave them the advantage. In one fell swoop they cleansed Castle Griffin of the demon horde that had turned a once thriving Province into a graveyard, and left with a captive newborn too weak to even fight the restraints placed upon him. Again time held no meaning, the weakness of my body and mind causing me to drift and I cannot count the number of times I prayed for it all to end. It was not to be however, my torment had only just begun.

The covenant had seen a newborn Vampire and discovered an opportunity to turn their enemy into a weapon, but first that enemy had to be broken and trained. The surest and quickest way to break the mind no matter what species is pain and starvation, both of which worked in their favor. Denied blood and subjected to immeasurable amounts of pain my very identity was lost, chipped away piece by piece until there was the smallest marble of sanity left; that essential part of a man’s being that makes him beg for mercy and plead for absolution. I was denied both, and with one well aimed swing of a hammer my very humanity was splintered the broken pieces pulverized into dust as surely as if they had never been. To say I was a raging beast would have been putting it lightly, they had broken the man stripped away the empty vestiges of society unleashing the rabid, crazed creature beneath.

My mind became a gaping black hole of pure instinct and madness, blocking out all such trivial things as time or location wanting only to rend and destroy and feed. The unabating excruciating torment was an ever present companion, clinging to my skin and sinking into my very bones, feasting on the morrow like a cancer wrapping me up in a tight constricting cocoon. My misery was a palpable presence that lived within, expanding and contracting with each breath until I was drowning in it while a constant buzzing droned somewhere close by. It took some time but through the red haze I discovered that if I focused on the buzzing the pain would lessen, at first by minute increments and then by great strides.

The buzzing as it turned out had been words, words that connected together to flow into sentences that slowly revealed meaning. Confusion and frustration reigned as my mind slowly came back online, reorienting to new information that had been shoved inside warping the world view as I had once known it. We started simple: My name was Renshaw, I was the blacksmith’s apprentice and lived within the keep at Castle Griffin. We were attacked, none survived. I am no longer a member of the living. I am a creature born of darkness and death, inherently evil and malevolent. A curse placed upon the Earth, good for nothing but bringing destruction and despair. I am the undead, a vampire from the very worst of nightmares.

My captors, the zealots who called themselves the covenant, explained that I was doomed to an existence of annihilation and damnation, for vampires were monsters with no souls. No matter how hard I might try I would be driven to kill, to maim and rend and tear and feed, leaving a trail of corpses in my wake. They, however, had a solution and one that I jumped on because the programing and conditioning they had so skillfully set in place would have no other outcome. I became their willing and pious weapon, under their tutelage I learned to control my many talents and hone my skills until I was more deadly than a thousand of them. We found ways of keeping my thirst under control, allowing me to feed from the members under close supervision in order to keep me at my strongest. The last stage of my transition I had to leave my previous life completely behind, burying Renshaw for he had died with his family, and adopt a new persona; one that would better serve my purposes for redemption.

The covenant came to call me Zephyr, or the fallen in the old language, which I found most apt and took on as my new identifier. As a reminder of my status and all the I had suffered and all that I had to make up for I was marked with (some cool tattoo in some location on his body). Finally I was deemed ready, ready to be set loose upon my own kind, for my only hope for forgiveness and escape from my evil fate was to cleanse the world. I didn’t ask for this life, nor did I ever want to be turned but it was my fate and I accepted it with as much humility as I could soothed in the knowledge that I was saving others from suffering a similar doom.

For many, many years I was the point of the spear, cutting down any vampires I came across without mercy or compunction. Hundreds of men of the covenant joined their sect, trained, fought, and died; yet I remained, remained to carry out the duty that would earn me a way out of the fiery pit. No amount of pleading or bargaining could sway me nor had a vampire ever escaped me for long. I fought with a ferocity that gave my opponents pause, for even those who were brave enough to stand against me held some latent form of self preservation while I cared not for either their life or my own. Hunting them was my sole purpose, the one reason behind my existence and the only light at the end of the pitch dark tunnel I had been dragged into. Or so I had been lead to believe.

It was staring into the wide eyes of a child that I first faltered at my task, the tears shimmering in those pristine aquamarine depths fracturing the light until she seemed fathomless. The covenant had done their research, finding a nomadic coven taking refuge within the camp I was stationed in the center of, and though they didn’t harm everyone they came across they had been leaving a very high body count in their wake. I’d cut down several when I’d come upon the child, her dark essence speaking to my own and yet I could see no evil in her as she stared up at me in obvious terror. Confusion hit me as surely as if it had been a physical force, stumbling me back from her and that was when I first felt him.

It started as a shadow that flickered like a candle at the corner of my vision, elusive enough to bring me to a screeching halt. The dark presence convulsed, folding in on itself becoming darker and far more powerful before blooming outward, gathering strength like a coming storm . The essence became more prominent as the entity grew closer and before I had even spotted him my knees nearly buckled beneath the weight of his influence. He was old, ancient even, oozing pure menace as he crested the hill embodying purpose and authority with each long stride. He was an unpredictable animal cloaked in the thin veneer of civility, confidence and control he wore like a second skin. I was amazed and cowed at the same time, a new sensation for me given my reputation though once those dark hazel hues turned their attention on me fully I found myself wishing once again for death. He didn’t grant it though, no he soothed the little one and sent the survivors on to a safe place before turning back to me.

Much to my astonishment I found we were alone, the covenant having long since vanished before the imposing figure standing in front of me. He introduced himself as Gideon, demanding to know how I came to be and why I was doing the things I was. Against my will I found the words spilling from my lips, unable to stop the flow I spilled the entire story to him leaving not one detail out until I came to the conclusion. He nodded his head, rubbing his jaw as he regarded me, and try as I might I couldn’t have read him if I had tried. Rather than kill me he took me to his own resting place, safe from the approaching dawn where we stayed for 3 days as he explained to me what I really was.

Gideon was infinitely patient with me, working past the conditioning that had been put in place so painstakingly well, peeling back the multiple layers of psychosis to get to the depths of what little soul I had left. Horror and shame overrode everything as I realized how wrong I had been, the number of lives I had ended all in the name of a misguided and warped belief that had been pressed upon me through pain and suffering. Once he was sure my head was on straight Gideon bid me farewell and I being infinitely grateful promised him my help and services if ever he needed them. He didn’t tell me where he was going and I didn’t ask, I had another task in mind and a very different kind of prey to hunt down.

I found them tucked away in one of their hideaways, cowering like the rats they were. My retribution was swift and brutal and bloody, by the time I was done there was little left of their bodies for even the coyotes to enjoy. It was much more than what they deserved but that small group was not the end for the covenant was a wide reaching organization that spanned the globe. Bending me had been a major success for them and given the right circumstances I was sure they would try again, finding another hapless victim to brainwash. I couldn’t let that happen, I wouldn’t. Emerging from the depths of that cave I swore to hunt down every last one of them, eradicating the entire covenant was the only way to prevent another version of myself from being created. From that moment on I took back my second life, free to choose my own path and to make my own choices. My first choice was to let go of my self hatred, to embrace the eternity I had before me and cease lamenting the man I had been.

For centuries I traveled around the world, ferreting out the members of the covenant, systematically eradicating their cancer from existence. Along the way I dealt with rogues who broke the laws of the Vampires, and did my best to preserve innocence no matter the species whenever I came across it’s path. I have met many individuals throughout my travels, many vampires with stories of their own. One in particular has always stood out and the resulting bond is one I will always cherish.

I came across the lovely and fierce Delilah Rancour in Turkey, the two of us had been chasing separate leads on a couple rogues who turned out to be apart of a massive nest that was far too big for a single fighter. So we teamed up, scouting out the den for a few days before we hit it with both barrels leaving no survivors. Delilah was a puzzle that interested me, she seemed untouchable in all things and yet I could see a great sadness in her eyes. She seemed restless, caged even by a great many frustrations that were riding her hard. Unseen forces drew up together and I found myself divulging the secrets of my past, something I hadn’t done since Gideon and likewise she gave away a few tidbits that told me enough.

Suddenly we found solace in each other’s arms, indulging in 3 nights of pure bliss made even more precious by the knowledge that neither of us would be attaching any strings. It was a time of freedom, two vampires blowing off steam through an outlet that could handle the other’s needs and furocity. When it was over we parted ways as friends, hearts a little lighter and bodies and little less tight. From there I traveled to China, embarking on an intense quest to seek out and be done with the last of the covenant rats who had gone so far underground that I lost all track of time as I pursued them. My victory was inevitable however, basking in the knowledge that I had saved thousands by destroying a corrupted and tainted sect.

I was on my way back to Turkey when I received the message, even through the electronic screen I could sense the urgency and the desperation. I could do no other than help, my conscience and honor demanded nothing less. I arranged for us to meet in Egypt, at a residence I had long ago procured and retrofitted for a vampire. When she arrived she explained about her condition and her need for privacy and discretion. I didn’t push for detail as it was my business nor was it my place but as her friend I offered her everything I had, giving her the run of that place for as long as she needed it. I left a few times, to give her space and time on her own, but I always came back.

On my last return her condition had changed and she needed something more from me, an oath of protection over the daughter she had just birthed. The moment I laid eyes on that infinitely small, dark haired little female I was lost and based on the smile she gave me she knew it. In order to keep her safe we both agreed that my name was much more anonymous, giving the little girl the freedom to live without fear or restraint. Her mother would return to her duties while I took her daughter, vowing to watch over her as she grows. Before she left she stroked her daughter’s fluffy head of hair, bent over to place a kiss on her forehead, whispered her name, and left.

From there I took little Tessa to Greece, placing her in the hands of a noble family who had children of their own. I stayed with them, keeping watch over the infant as she steadily grew into a precocious toddler. When she started school I began spending time away, traveling around as was my habit though I would return periodically to check on her. I have watched her grow, keeping my friend’s secret, and proudly lending my name to a growing young lady. As far as I knew her mother wrote to her often, keeping their correspondence confined to paper was by far the safest choice and it has been my honor to watch her grow these past 16 years.

This past year I’ve felt a strange pull, one I’ve been able to resist despite its insistence, and even more strange I have heard from Tessa that her mother’s letters have become fewer and far between. She believes that something is wrong and while I agree with her I can’t risk the young teen running off to try and find her mother. I promised her that I would keep Tessa safe, and for now that means she is staying right where she is while I continue my nomadic tendencies. My gut tells me something is coming, I only hope that fate is far kinder than it has been to me thus far and that she keeps Tessa out of her sights.