Name: Nicholas Crawford Lot.
Age: One-hundred and forty-one years old, born in 1873..
Appearance: Standing in at 6'2, Nicholas is fairly tall, and such it only helps to enforce his rather imposing figure. His body is riddled with scars and bullets wounds, thanks to years of relentless tortures courtesy of the Soviet Union. As such, he keeps his body covered, choosing not to show his scars. He does care for how he looks, sort of, he's not a bum, and such he doesn't want to look like one. Usually wearing something dark, expensive and flexible. And pretty much always a suit.
Faction: Vampire.
Job: A drifter of sorts.
Bio: Nikolas is rather young by the standards of being a Vampire, since he's only been one for less than a century, ninety-seven years to be exact. But before that, he was a man nearing his peak, in a country that knew naught but war. Imperial Russia. Born to a Russia mother, and a father of British decent, he never really saw much of either them considering he was more or less abandoned upon birth. That is, if you consider putting your child in a bordering school at the brisk young age of four, if not, then they were parents of the century.
And such, Nicholas spent much of his junior years with people he actually liked, because there wasn't exactly much to do in a boarding school for twelve years. He left school with a sizeable trust fund of sorts, the perks of having millionaires for parents. But instead of becoming one with the aristocracy, he instead choose to take a job as a chef ... for some reason. If Nicholas was one thing, it wasn't a chef, and such that little endeavour didn't last long. Eventually he found himself in a book store in Saint Petersburg, which quickly cultivated in getting a job there.
He had liked reading since he was able, there was no Internet or television back then, so that made sense. However, he hadn't know he liked it enough to make it a living until that very day. He worked at the store for quite some time, along with it's owner, Nikolai. Alas, things took a turn for the worse during the Communist revolution of Russia during 1917, he found the store he cared for so dearly burnt to the ground, and nothing left to live for. And so, on that night he decided to kill himself. But first, he had to indulge in one last luxury, getting drunk beyond recognition.
He wasn't sure if the man who visited him that night was an angel, or the devil himself, but what he did changed his life forever. He was bitten and turned into a creature of the night, oh and became slightly immortal. Which was most counter productive to his plans of ending his life.
He spent a few sleepless nights debating his new found gift, or curse he not knew what it was. Until he decided that the man who gave him this needed to die, preferably a horrible and painful death. He found him the next night and charged him with a dagger, and yet when he thrust his dagger, it did nothing. The blade was held just short of a inch from his eye, and yet something held the blade from ending the bastards life.
All that met Nicholas was laughter from the man-thing, and in an instant he was gone. Unsure of what to do, and with nothing left for him in Petrograd, he decided that due to the whole 'immortal' thing, he would take up arms and fight. One of the first things he noticed was that getting shot in the face tended to hurt by a considerable margin, just because nothing normal could now kill didn't mean he should needlessly endure pain. Which made sense, since sadism wasn't exactly his thing.
The war soon enough drew to an end, and the fact that he hasn't fought on the winning side meant he was soon enough put in front of a wall, and nine guns were aimed at his head. The results were as expected, the bullets impacted into his body, and it bloody well hurt, the only what happened next, was not intended. He had sustained so much damage from the execution that he transformed into a feral beast, which then proceeded to utterly destroy the Red soldiers in a matter of seconds.
At some point he blanked out from his rampage and woke up days later in a dark and damp cell in the middle of Siberia. This is where Nikolas' story gets a little boring, he was now a guest of the Soviet Union in one of their ever so famous Gulags. He wouldn't see daylight for at least five or six more decades, where in the eighties during the height of the Cold War, the Soviets realised how much of a weapon that Nikolas could be.
This ended as well of expected, Nikolas with almost superhuman strength, speed and endurance, and the Soviets with zero to no experience with handling Vampires, escaped from his captors once they had moved him into East Germany. He however made the point to drain the blood from his captors, because being nice is overrated.
He smuggled himself into central america, and from there into America proper. He then tried to recontrust his life to the best of his ability, considering all the human interaction he had for the past decades was a Russian mobster, his tactics were ever so less than civil. He would immedaily use force when he didn't get his own way, and was far from compromise. That, and the fact he was a Vampire meant he was also a serial killer, so there was that.
He never really knew what 'home' was, and in an effort to find it, he found many a mate to try and form a family, and at least have a legacy. But he could never bring himself to be truthful to them about who he was, and how can you raise a family with out mentioning the tiny fact that you're a Vampire who gets off on sucking blood? See, not an easy premise at all.
That was until he heard about the town of Brookfield, and something in his head just clicked, he had a sudden want to go here, and find out what it was, and then .... ? Well, that remains to be told.
Personality: Quick, brash and not very resourceful, Nicholas outright prefers to simply punch his ways to solving a problem, rather than go about it like a normal person would. Coupled with a distinct lack of social skills, it's pretty easy to say he's not a nice guy. But for the most part, he's just a angry man, with no way of venting.
Family/Relationships: His parents are long dead, both killed in Russia many a decade ago, but from the amazing little thing called the Internet, he found that the Crawford family name continues to live on in Britain, albeit a rather weak legacy. He hopes to rectify that problem, one way or another.
Weapon(s) : Nicholas is not one for weapons, if he wants to kill a man, then he'll use his bare hands. There is no greater satisfaction than knowing you used no tool, but you, to finished your prey. He does know how to a use a sword, or at least he thinks he does. He learned how to fence back in School and that was quite some time ago, decades of isolation and the fact he hasn't picked up a sword since, means his skills likely aren't up to scratch.
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