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Vampyre /ˈVæm.paɪ.ə(ɹ)

Creator of a Blood Line

Founder of the Black Gate Society

""I am the the bird on whose wings the great secrets lie, the man whose words quell the rage and sorrow of lesser souls. Wisdom lies in my heart, for centuries burn within my great heart. My children are many...yet we are so few. Aeternitas quod post mea oculi."


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"Shall I tell you my story?"

Dorian's tale begins nearly two aeons ago, in what is now known as East Africa- the age before an age. Scientists say that they date the modern human race back only a few dozen millennia ago...but the truth is, they are far older. How does one know? Well...Dorian was there, and so were his entire family. They were among the nearly twelve thousand strong humans that existed at the time, mortals made by the gods to serve a purpose- worshipers, and warriors. The species as a whole were hunters, fighters, relentless in their task, and devoted to their people. War was all too common, and the mortality rate was high. Yet, one tribe was different- the Mair'ka. One of the oldest tribes founded, they were intelligent, capable of complex language and crafting of homes and weapons. Their people were nomadic, yet strong willed and hardy.

At the head of the tribe was Ar'du, and his mate, Ma'llul- the patriarch and matriarch of the grand people. Their word was law, and none disobeyed. They had 4 children, Za'luch, Brena, De'ku, and Du'ri, all wise and creative. However, they would not remain this way. Over the span of ten years, the peoples moved from Africa to the highlands of Scotland, where they encountered their greatest allies...and worst foes. The witches themselves were a strong people, made by the gods before man, they were wise and arrogant, and often brought storms to cleanse the land. Among the first tribes to settle, was the Ke'woo- powerful witches, who could summon fire from the skies, and dry the rivers. It was this clan that met with the Mair'ka, and made with them a pact in blood- gifting them with lands to the North, and plentiful growth for centuries to come.

Yet peace was not to last. On the eighth year of their agreement, the Mair'ka broke the pact, and raided the Ke'woo's great tree- the Ygyama, where they had hollowed out a home for all. Dozens were slaughtered, and the tree damaged beyond reason. The Mair'ka returned home with fruit, vegetables, meats, and intricate trinkets from another world. It was this very act that sealed their fate. The remaining Ke'woo led their own raid, and brought down a horrendous storm from the sky. Fire washed through the land, the earth quaked, and the very woods came alive with darkened rage. When at last only the head family remained, the Ke'woo laid upon them a curse- no longer would they age, nor feel the warmth of the sun. Their blood would hunger, and they would be known as monsters to all. 

From that day on, the Mair'ka were no more...broken beyond repair. However, not all was lost- while cursed to live only at night, and forever hungering for the blood of man, the family possessed incredible gifts. They were stronger than the mightiest man, able to shatter rock; their speed was beyond the animals, able to run as if the winds were at their feet; their bodies, once able to ail from sickness and wounds, healed and became impervious to damage from almost all things; and their senses made the greatest of predators shame itself. Among these gifts, one stood above all- the ability to make others like them, with the use of their accursed blood. Twas this that saved the family, for with that blood, they were able to build an army the likes of which could, and cannot, be rivaled.


Dorian was different from his family though- while they sought to wreak war upon the Ke'woo, he sought knowledge and power. He separated himself from his family for centuries, scouring the land and leaving tablets of stone and chalf in his wake. His mark was left on the world forever, as his writings were discovered eons later by the earliest civilizations. From these writings came the first languages, writings on cave walls, and scriptures in stone. Dozens of different cultures founded their alphabets on him, and in time, this developed into the singular written alphabet made by the Phoenicians- Proto-Canaanite. Later, the Greeks and Romans developed Latin, which became the language upon which many were formed.

Across time, Dorian has played some small part in the events of the world, from great tragedies, to grand epics, to the advent of an era. He was there when the last of the mammoths were slain, the creation of the first language, the construction and later destruction of the first grand city, and later- the rise of Greece. From there he participated in the construction of Rome, the rise of democracy in Athens, the birth and death of Confucius, Socrates' first declaration, and eventually- the events of Jesus Christ (someone he came to detest due to his false fame). After this point in time, Dorian vanished for the better part of seven hundred years, only popping up roughly a millennium later, at the start of the First Crusade in 1099 AD. Upon his return, it was revealed that he had been staked and beheaded by angry villagers sometime after the death of Caligula, and left in a stone sarcophagus to rot. 

Over the course of the next three hundred years, Dorian explored the eastern continents, learning much of how the world had changed. Many cities had been built, and many had been torn down- evidence of his time away. In the year 1349, he joined the newly established University of Prague, and stayed his years there as a professor in history and ideals. This lasted for the better half of twenty years, before he faked his death to avoid suspicion. From there, he made his way west, where he took part in the trial of Joan of Arc, and the coronation of King Henry VI in France. Nearly a century later, he became the lover and muse of a young Leonardo da Vinci in 1472, before leaving his side in 1489- only three decades before the man's death. Later he became the secreted lover of Raphael, who in 1520, aided in his 'death', and turned him into a vampyre. They parted ways in 1552, after which point Dorian remained alone for nearly another forty years, simply enjoying his home in Paris until the year 1587, when he traveled to Italy, and crossed paths with Galileo Galilei. 

The two spent an innordinate amount of time together, before Galileo abandoned Dorian to continue his research. After that, Dorian was once more apprehended, this times at the hands of one of his younger progeny- a women named Doris Yarma. She had sworn to bring him to heel, and used her newly gained powers to imprison him in his family's tomb for a century. He was later rescued by his sister, Brennan, who revived him with her blood, and brought him back to France to recover. Thanks to the efforts of his family, they'd been hounded back to his home, which now hosted the finest security in Europe- a full score of ancient vampyres. In the year 1795, Dorian joined the French military, and served as a lieutenant under Napoleon Bonaparte. The two were oddly arranged lovers, sneaking away at times before battle or locking themselves in the strategy room. When Napoleon supposedly died of a stomach ulcer, Dorian fed him his blood, and once more added an immortal to the world. They did not however remain together, and Dorian quickly left. Much of the time after that is left unknown, that is until 1968.

It was the summer of 1968, a Sunday morning. Dorian strolled the streets of New York City, his head held low, and his recently created sun ring bound to his finger. A grin was on his face, for the news spoke of good tidings in Vietnam- news that pleased him, under the circumstances. He crossed the street from South Ave. onwards towards a bakery, barely stopping to look at the cars in his way. The moment he crossed, he knew he was screwed. Standing in front of the bakery was the youngest of the Kenwood family- Jakob. A fetching lad by all accounts, and possibly the most gentlemanly of them all. The pair had met once before, in the city of Prague during Dorian's tenure. They'd exchanged feelings, but had split off before anything could come of it.

Breathing in, the vampyre strolled over, and so their new life began. For two and a half years, Dorian and Jakob shared a secret relationship, one that was agreed on by one side, while the other held no prospects of love for it. Things weren't meant to last though, as on the night of July 18th, 1970, things came to a brutal halt. Dorian's father returned home that night with a gift for his son, and without warning, entered the room. He had indeed expected Dorian to be caught with a lover...but not Jakob. Upon his discovery of their relationship, he flung the gift away, and dragged Jakob back to his family, flinging him to them in a fit of rage. Thankfully, the lad survived...and Dorian...well, he got something worse. Once more dragged to the family crypt, he was stocked there for the better part of forty-eight years, until a collective of his sirelings dug him up. They gave their lives to resurrect him, and in so doing awakened the ancient immortal. Now weakened, Dorian's path stands uncertain...and undone...

Black Gate - Shadows Personified

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Sometime after the construction of Rome, Dorian disappeared for a time, entirely vanishing from history for a few years. Few know the secret of why, and those that do, are either amongst those belonging to Dorian's inner circle, or long since dead. The truth of the matter is that Dorian began to collect minds of the highest order- people bent on the idea of collecting and amassing the greatest collection of knowledge known to the world. His first five members were amongst his sirelings- vampyres of elder age. Together, they formed a secretive society, known only as Niger In Porta or The Black Gate. Over the course of centuries, the organization's ranks swelled, including the likes of Alexander the Great, Confucius, Socrates, Julius Caesar, Ganghes Khan, and many more. When Dorian left the world for his slumber, the organization took its greatest steps, and brought technology to the world- inventions beyond imagining. Through the workings of magick and tech, they created things known only to the gods.

A millennium later, mankind felt the tithes of Leonardo da Vinci, who took his role among the Black Gate whilst with Dorian. Later, Raphael joined, replacing the dead inventor. In time, the society made the leap forward, and forced the world to see the Industrial Age- the Era of Steam. From trains, to engines, to vehicular travel, the vampyres behind the society made the world better...while hiding behind the shadows of the government. Since that time, they have only enlarged, with many of the organization's highest members being either vampyres...or wealthy businessmen who hide their name. However, one thing is never disputed- all understandings and laws pass through Dorian, regardless of how long it is before such things change. 

The last time that law was unabided, was in 1860, when one of the junior members attempted to bring in automatic machinery. Dorian, sensing the danger that may cause, rejected the project. Naturally it was brought forth anyway, and many suffered for that mistake. The individual behind it, a young upstart by the name of Jonathan Harkman, promptly disappeared. As to how, or why...none know. The only one with the knowledge to that, is Dorian...

Should one ask to join the organization, they must first find their headquarters in London, hidden underneath of a cover shop known as Shatner's Wonders- a wonky camera and antiquity shop. Three knocks on their back door and the given phrase- "Aeternitas quod post mea oculi," and one is able to enter. They are promptly led into a tunnel, which then enters into an elevator. This takes them down nearly three hundred feet, to the true base of operations...

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Character Name

Dorian Marrik (D'uri Mair'Ka)

Character Age

2,000,000+ Years

Character Species


Character Gender


Character Relationship Status

Dorian is currently without a relationship, and generally disinterested in one unless given good reason to change his mind. Please, feel free to pry into his life, gain his intrigue...he might decide to give you a look over again~

Character Appearance

Dorian has the appearance of a young male with dark skin, and chocolate eyes. His hair is trimmed down to the point of nonexistence, while his brows are full and cared for. Below the neckline, he possesses a lithe, agile body- one toned from centuries of running and fighting for survival. He stands at approximately 5'8, and 164 lbs. When angered or intensely emotional, his eyes and face will warp, veins pulsating and crawling up to the eyes, which are then pumped with blood until the sclera turn blood red. Generally his teeth remain normal and pearly white, completely straight, while when turned, the canines and lateral incisors grow into sharp fangs. Main Playby(s): Corey Baptiste, Charles Michael Davis

Character Personality

"You wish to know me? To know to know the world." -Dorian Marrik Dorian is often described as the kindest of his relatives, the youngest and yet the most passionate. Where all others of his family fight and war over petty squabbles, this vampire focuses on the finer things in life. He acts as a regal historian, possibly even a philosopher, yet never lords himself over those of lesser stature or wealth. Should one see him on the streets, they will find him doing one of two things- donating money to those who need it, and helping individuals in pain or suffering. To top it off, his view of the world is one seen through the eyes of a lover. Over the centuries, he's been powered by love- love of himself, of his partners, and the world itself.

Character Likes

Dorian is overall enthused by the modern world, its fallacies and intricate weavings. It is for this reason he likes these things...

  • Earthen Life
  • Material Objects
  • Men
  • Making Friends
  • Curious Items
  • Animals of All Kinds
  • Power and Naturality
  • Love and Romance
  • Action and Adventure
  • Reading Books and Scripture
  • Watching Films and Shows
  • Playing Games and Objectives
  • Flirtation
  • Nature and Forests
  • Youth and Immortality

Character Dislikes

There are few things that Dorian dislikes, but here they are...

  • Death
  • Murder
  • Elder Vampires
  • Warfare
  • Abuse Of Any Kind
  • Fights
  • Racism

Character Inventory

  • Custom Tailored Suits x3 - Suit 1 | Suit 2 | Suit 3

  • Character Abilites

  • Immortality: Like the witches who created them, ampyres possess infinite lifespans. These immortals cannot die of old age, mortal wounds, or disease. Dorian is millions of years old, yet retains the look of a twenty year old- the age at which he was turned...
  • Regeneration: Vampyres can heal far faster than any human, or witch. Given time, they can heal from injuries that would kill ordinary human, or even a weaker vampyre. Gunshots, stab wounds, and (depending on the age) dismemberment cannot kill an vampyre. Only another vampyre, a powerful witch, fire, or extreme exposure to sunlight, can kill a vampyre. Dorian, being one of the First Borne, cannot be killed by anything more or less than one of his siblings dealing the final blow, or a very powerful witch removing his immortality. However, sunlight will severely damage him without a sunlight ring, having his neck snapped with temporarily render him unconscious, and he can be indefinitely put down by being staked, and entombed without blood.
  • Inhuman Strength: Vampyres possess considerable strength, with even the youngest being able to dismember humans with ease, or throw them across a room. This ability, like that of a vampyre's speed and regeneration, increases with age. As a First Borne, Dorian is able to lift an excess of two tons, making him one of the strongest vampyres alive.
  • -Inhuman Speed: Like their strength, this increases with age. The youngest can move as a blur, crossing short distances in mere blinks of an eye. The oldest ones are able to cross entire states in a matter of a few hours. Dorian is said to be the second fastest of his family, able to move like the wind itself...
  • -Inhuman Senses/Perception: Upon turning, vampyres gain superhuman perception, able to smell the slightest of scents, see the smallest of fibers, hear things that are great distances away, and react to things faster than the human eye can catch. Dorian has said that when he remembers his first day as a vampyre, he felt intense agony, as every sound within three miles echoed in his ears, the simplest smells invaded his nostrils, and the very touch of the ground brought physical pain to his body...

  • Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

    Paragraph, Multi-Para, No-Preference

    Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

    Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Realistic, Gore, Action, Adventure

    About the Writer (OOC)

    For those of you wanting to know, the author behind this character is named Quinn Martens. I am an experienced roleplayer and writer, having started about 6 years ago, at the beginning of my middle school journey. Now, I am a senior in high school, going through as a graphics and psychology major. Please note that I am prone to flights of exaggeration and explosive excitement, as well as quietude and sadness, all as a result of my depression and anxiety. If anyone wants to roleplay, hit me with a message on Wix, email me, or if you want, add me on PSN.

  • Email:
  • PSN: Deaths_Wrath56

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    • The Druid wanders for a while, scanning the trees with his second sight.  After a while, he finds what he's looking for--in the shape of a very tall and far older Hazel tree.  It's leaves were autumnal; fiery yellows and reds that made him think of Brigit, and that thought caused him to shutter, like he'd dipped his nuts in ice-water.

      Marking the tree in his mind, he turns and makes his way back to collect his sword and the Vampyre, but Dorian finds him first.  Finn slows, quirking a brow at him.  Then he leans his head to the side, a quizical expression on his face.  He says nothing, although he does appreciate the sympathy on some level.  It's been so, so long, and he's buried his pain deep.

      "Er.. " Turning with him, he stares after the other man, who continues to walk on. "What are ye doin'?" he wonders, honestly.

    • The Druid's clear blue eyes follow Dorian as the man plops down by the edge of the water, where he curls up, making him seem.. so small, almost vulnerable.  But he reminds himself that the man is a vampyre, and of the two of them Finn is far more vulnerable.

      "Ye must forgive me for bein' skeptical.  My experience with vampires in the Old World.. were plenty, and none too benign.  They hunted me across continents, for a time.  Even now, I am an enemy of the Undead," because he unbinds most of them on sight, these days. "among the factions and species who ally themselves with the enemies of my people, vampires have always, always been among them.."

      Finn grimaces then, and turns his face away, to look towards the sky. "No, they..are gone.  Julius Caesar made sure of it during the 1st century- he came to us as a friend, yet he burnt our groves during the night, severing the tethers that would have allowed us to travel to other planes, and then he and his legions slaughtered our hundreds.  As strong as we were, the Roman's too were strong.  As we had the blessings of our gods, so did they.  It was Minerva that let them see through our invisibility, and it was Diana that turned our own hounds against us-- " he sighs bitterly, pushing his fingers through his wild, red hair. "not so long after that, the Roman's began a pogrom of all things Druid, and then not so long after that along came St. Patrick n' introduced Christianity to Ireland-- which was far easier than Druidry.  Instant acceptance, versus innumerous oaths n' conditions, tests n' hardship? Most people weighed one against the other n' then added the whole, it being life-threatening to even say the word, 'Druid' n... we were doomed.  I.. I am the last of us here on Earth."

      Suddenly sick of Scotland, he gets to his feet and turns to stalk through the trees. "Let's go, we've wasted enough time."

    • After cleaning most of the blood from himself, he slips towards the shallows, wading through them to the shore, water dripping down his flat stomach and getting all caught up in the short, trimmed hairs far below his naval.  When he turns back; and finds no sign of Dorian, he activates his second sight, to find the male sitting upon the bottom of the Caledonian, and the corner of his mouth quirks into a small, amused smile.

      Instead of hurrying the Vampyre along, he decides to sit with his back resting against the tree near where he'd hid his weapon, and left his pants in a dirty ball.  Slowly, he crosses his naked legs, and shuts his eyes to focus on mending the rest of the damage the witch had manage to do to his insides, with that wicked knife of hers.  He's not surprised to find traces of a magical, flesh eating poison.  Nor that there was a hex on the blade, allowing it to hold onto some of the blood of the person stabbed with it.  First, he unbinds the hex, and then he focuses on dissolving the poison in his blood-stream.  So when Dorian surfaces, he'd find the Druid waiting nearby, in a trance, although not nearly as deep as the one he'd fallen into while communing with the Elemental.  This time around, he still very much aware of his surroundings.

      Like, for instance, the weight of Dorian's gaze.  And the soft sound of his voice, barely louder than the hush of the water on the shore.. 

      But he doesn't open his eyes, sighing gently instead. "I don't know.  Ye.. don't really seem like others o' yer kind.  N' if ye are, then yer a damn good actor n' that's just as well wit' me.  Why? Don't ye think ye deserved to be saved from that torment?"

    • Finn falls quiet when Dorian doesn't respond, casting his eyes down to the tops of his feet as they descend the slope of the hill, heading towards a thicket of trees that span the bank of the Canal for a few miles.  

      Even without using his second sight, he can tell the man is distracted-- with memories of his past.  The same kind of kine shat he'd warned the Vampyre against back in his dank crypt.  The Druid, knowing better, distances himself from his own memories, of which there was one for every blade of grass in the Highlands and beyond.  He knew if he started letting them in, the torrent would not stop until he was broken anew, every old wound reopened and gushing blood. 

      A warning creeps up his throat to sit on the tip of his tongue as he watches the man, and he parts his lips to voice his concern-- then he thinks better of interfering in the other man's business, closes his mouth, and faces ahead to slip quietly through the foilage into the thicket, careful to avoid the many thorn bushes and nettles that sought the naked flesh of his feet as he heads for the edge of the canal.  

      There's a heady, dizzying scent hanging in the air from the pink and red Poppy flowers on the bank, kept company by pretty white petaled bushes of Hogweed.


      Finn stops by one of the trees, unslinging a bloody Fragarach from his back.  Gripping it by the scabbard, he kneels and asks the Earth to open for him, a hole large enough for his sword to slip into easily.  Then he drops it in, asks the Earth to close, reseals the soil and rooted grass where it was before it was disturbed, and stretches back to his feet. 

      He pushes his blood soaked palm through his hair without thinking about it, and grimaces quietly at himself before he works on the button of his jeans, popping them open, then the sliding the zipper down.  He lets them fall unceremoniously and cups his junk in his hand to half-ass shield his manhood from view, even though he's far from shy. 

      Blood and dirt pool off his skin when he slips into the Canal, turning the water a murky, ugly brown color that trails after him.  His shoulders are tense above the water. "It's bloody cold." the Druid reports intelligently, and then drops beneath the surface to soak his head and hopefully get all the gunk out of his hair.

    • Dorian barely registered the resulting words, his focus now more trained on the land before them. Those grass hills, and deep forests, the canal of clear water that surged below them...twas a sight like few others. Long ago, his family had camped here, stood at this very spot on their trip to see the Ke'woo. Back then, he remembered seeing stars that lit the water, making it seem to glow beneath the great moon. He remembered the clashing of clouds above, as rain poured down upon the land, blessing them once more. These were times long past, and now the world had changed. What had once been a forest unlike any other, was now barren fields of green...a sad fact, yet also a sign that things may one day return.

      After a time of thought, Dorian's head snapped back to Finn, who he now watched descend into the water. Without even the slightest hesitation, the vampire followed. He stripped free of his blazer and shirt, removing the bloodied apparel, while he retained his pants. His shoes quickly followed his shirt, though he left these and his socks on the embankment for gathering. After removing these items, he waded his way into the water, pausing only to look down as he felt the earth moisten around his feet. A smile crept up his youthful yet ancient features, and he continued onwards, eventually reaching deeper waters where he could swim. There, he swam in circles, enjoying the feeling of relaxed freedom that came with this. 

      It had centuries since he'd last swam in these waters, the seething liquids that remained from his birthtimes. Oh, how the memories would remain, brought forth like so many other things. He saw visions of the past in his mind now, flashes of eras past. This was a result of his awakening and feeding- as his mind returned to him, he would once more relive his life...

    • Finn climbs to his feet, sighing as he looks down at his half naked form; the hag's blood he'd gotten soaked in turned an ugly brown, drying and cracking on his flesh from the heat of the flames.  Some of it flaked off when he rose to his feet, but there were chunks and bits and all sorts of nasty stuff on him that had him wondering-- what part of the human body is that, is it from the inside, or the out?-- but he doesn't linger on it long.  Turning on the ball of his left hell, he cants his bloody head in the Vampyre's direction, saying nothing while he takes in what remains on the mans suit. 

      Arching a red eyebrow, the Druid snorts a quick, deep laugh. "Or maybe ye could just buy yourself a twenty dollar pair o' pants n' a ten dollar shirt like the wee peasant folk?" Finn buys his flip-flops at the dollar store.

      But that has a lot to do with his always losing them.  Like now for instance- he'd been wearing a pair when he left his apartment in New York City, but now his feet are naked and he can't rememeber where or when he'd abandoned them.  Probably in Tír na nÓg. 

      Without another word, he turns and stalks away from the smoking woods.  Away from the crypt- up a hill, down a hill, past a field of bunched together purple and yellow flowers that seemed a like a chalk painting from a distance, up yet another hill, and finally they've come to the Caledonian Canal-- it may seem it splits Scotland clean in two.  "Welcome to the Great Glen," he spreads his arms wide, to encompass the whole area-- the green, fen, hills, canal and all.  Two grazing red deer near the edge of the canal lift their heads simultaneously, swing wide black eyes in their direction, and then bolt.  No doubt smelling the stench of death on them both.

      "I dunno but ye n' yer ten thousand dollar suit, but I'm throwin' my arse in the water so I can get some o' this gunk off me." He gestures to his--everything, and then stalks ahead towards the Canal.

    • Dorian watched with an intrigued expression as Finn performed his spell, keeping his sight focused on him. He'd seen such ancient magic before, and was almost always sure that it was a form of natural magic- spells made from the world itself. Yet, he couldn't help but feel somewhat fearful of it. Magic was dangerous, and while it was often used for the benefit of the world at large, many people had abused their gift of it. As an old ally of his once told him, power corrupts those who possess it. It is this reason that Dorian himself avoids using his powers as much as possible, even in the face of danger.

      Once the druid had finished his spellwork and the retrieval of his gear, Dorian made quick to handle the bodies. Moving with speed unrivaled, he hefted corpses up by the scruff of their shirts, and dragged them to the tomb. There he dumped them, allowing more death to purvey the once sacred ground. The process took him nearly ten minutes, but by the time he had finished, Finn was ready to keep moving. When he spoke of leaving, the ancient could only nod, and look over his own apparel in disgust. "I spent nearly ten thousand dollars on this suit before I got entombed. Now I'll need to spend more to get something." He said with a disgruntled tone.


    • Finn lets his head roll to the side, blue eyes flirting towards Dorian.  A sheepish smile rouses itself on his face, but quickly ducks back into hiding as he realizes just how much fire there was; the trees were nearly fully engulfed in flames, leaves curling and turning brown as the heat sapped all their moisture away, and then they too caught fire, spitting and popping angrily.  Through his bond, he felt the Earth's pain -- the Elemental in his head, if he tuned in, kept blasting him with emotional messages. / Fire / / Fear / Druid assist / and then it would repeat itself, because it couldn't exactly scream like most people had the benefit of doing as they were burnt alive.

      Slowly, he sits up - grimacing as he picks the entrails off his lap, and tosses them aside to hit the ground with a wet splat.  "I gotta' admit.." he gets to his feet, limping carefully from the red stain that kept his outline on the ground to where he'd dropped Fragarach's scabbard.  He snatches it up, sheaths the sword, then slings it across his naked back, adjusting the strap as he does. "I think ye might be the weirdest vampyre I've ever fucken' met, dude." he'll leave it to Dorian to figure out whether that's a compliment or not, turning from him to focus his attention on the flames.

      There he sits, crossing his legs under his arse and placing the palms of each hand on his knees.  Then he shuts his eyes, and focuses on smothering the flames.  It's relatively easy, when one knows what to do.  Although it wouldn't help him in any serious fights, given it doesn't provide instantaneous results.  In essence; he separates the oxygen from the flames, and continues to do so as they sputter and cough, shrinking away to leave nothing behind but black, ugly wounds on both the land and it's trees.  No doubt some of the witches bodies were caught in the fire, as well, but they would have been doused along with everything else by his druidry. 

      Twenty minutes pass before he opens his eyes again, thick, lung punching smoke billowing high into the air, rolling through the valley to probably attract the attention of local farmers, who were no doubt on their way to investigate. 

      "I'm done," he calls, then turns to search for Dorian. "We should probably get outta' here."

    • Dorian saw nothing in those eyes...a blessing that he took from the gods. Finn appeared to be weak, possibly even entirely damaged. As it was, the vampyre couldn't hear his heartbeat, at least not as heavily as he would hear it normally. Was the druid going to make it? Would the nature around him offer the sustenance, the energy, the power that he needed to survive? Or would he be forced to intervene, carry out his own way of healing the man, by feeding him his blood? That was not something Dorian liked the thought of. If the blood failed to heal Finn, then he would die...and come back as another of his 'children'. 

      Before Dorian could even begin to move to help, he felt something stir. The world around them seemed to ease up, relax...then tense, as a force of great power rose up. Knowing the land as he did, Dorian knew well enough that the Druid had called forth one of the spirits of the area...possibly even the great elemental itself.  In this moment, he found himself crouching and touching the ground, his eyes closed in concentration. "Thank you." He thought outwardly. While he did not have a bond with nature, nor any magic to speak of, he was one of the few vampyres who loved the land. For centuries, the roads, hills, mountains, and forests had served not only as his path to travel, but also his home. While nature may think him a creature of undeath, cruel and unfeeling...truly, he felt honored to even be able to walk on the ground itself, and shame for having a part in his own curse.

      When at last Finn rose and spoke, Dorian lifted his head and heaved a heartened sigh. "You're healed, I take it." He whispered, looking in the direction of the druid. Finn certainly looked healthier, stronger- no doubt about it, he had been healed. "I'm glad to see you back up and running. We need to clean the area up- you douse the fires, I'll care for the corpses- give them a proper burial and blessings. Then, we can begin to heal the area...give it time to recover."

    • His vision fades in and out, dark splotches dancing at the corner of his eyes.  One moment, he blearily sees Dorian stumbling back from the witches, then he closes his eyes.  And when he opens them again, the vampyre is the only one standing, looking back at him, as he lay there in a puddle of blood, entrails from the witch he'd split in half strewn across his stomach, hanging between his legs.  The hag's blood was all over his face, in his hair, seeping along the length of his sword, which he was hugging to his side.

      He closes his eyes again, and he calls to the Elemental of the Highlands to help him.  In no time at all- it responds.  He feels it's power pulse along his tattoos, sinking into his flesh and running through him, then back into the ground in an endless cycle.  It's all he can do to gasp, arching his back and curling his toes, gripping Fragarach so hard his fingers bleed when he feels his insides healing up- with more detail than he'd like.  The poison-- he takes care of that himself, squeezing his eyes closed and muttering aloud; "ault fri..  halt dí, féith.. fri féth.." and then the Druid repeats it, again, and again, and as many times as it takes until the poison is gone from him.  

      Sagging against the earth, he sighs aloud and thanks the Elemental through his bond.  It fearfully asks him to take care of the fires, and to heal the damage done to the area by the witches.  Finn readily agrees.  / Harmony / he sends out through his bond, / Goodbye. / and then he blinks his eyes open--some five minutes later-- which tended to happen when he spoke to the Elementals, his losing time.  

      "Ugh, I fucken hate witches." he says, with an air of finality and relief. 

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