Nickname: Marcan, Snow
Age: Has lost track, has long extended his own life with blood rituals.
Race: Human, highly magically inclined.
Gender: Male
Personality: Calm, cool and collected usually, with a strong sense of sarcasm and wit whenever the mood so strikes him. Has no real sense of right or wrong, however - so long as the desired result is achieved, it's a success to Marcan. He can be gentle and caring to people who earn it, but terrible and cruel to sadistic levels against those that cross him, or earn his ire. When something attracts his attention he tends to devote himself fully to either it's study or acquisition, both if he can manage it. Deep down he has a -fierce- stroke of loyalty waiting to be touched upon for any who can earn his full respect, and however they might do so. Far from perfect, but tolerable...to the right person.
Looks like: Marcan stands at a humble 5'10", built broad at the shoulder and strong in the arms and legs, a body befitting a swordsman - a skill cultivated in his centuries of life. His hair has grown long and is kept tied back into a single ponytail, the hair in front of his face kept to reasonable length and allowed to do whatsoever it pleases. His skin is deathly pale, a side effect of his magic - the mark of dark deeds. His closet contains a rather typical arrangement of clothing save black, Eastern-styled robes and accessories that he favors when studying and using his magic, or practicing with a blade.
Bio: Marcan has lived to see many things since his birth - the rise and fall of kingdoms, shifts in political state, the changing of the hearts of men and their desires. He remembers little enough of his childhood to make it completely un-noteworthy to him, caring only for his history since his acquisition of the knowledge of blood magic. Thinking at first he'd discovered the secrets of the vampire, he studied long and hard on the subject while cultivating and nurturing his inherent skill with the arcane. His greatest success and firmest lesson came to him at the cost of a younger man he'd well known.
Marcan convinced his then friend to offer some of his blood to an arcane circle he'd drawn, saying that it would give the gift of life in exchange. As the sacrifice was made, Marcan felt life rush into him along with a deep, warm power that tasted like blood in his very mouth. He tapped into the wellspring this power came from and drank deeply from it, greedily, stopping only when he felt the power grow dry...much like the husk of a corpse he'd just made of his friend. No traditional vampire, but a life-sucker by ritual, Marcan fled the scene, and the country, in his horror. But still the power seethed and warmed his veins, and soon enough he found his thoughts turning towards a desire for more, but a realization that -moderation- would be the key to his new life.
From then onwards Marcan has followed the path of traditional vampires, hunting willing victims as they did by pulling poor sods off the street, giving them a place to warm themselves by him...and when they came to trust him, he'd drink deeply of their life, but not completely. For centuries he has lived this way, wandering from country to country, city to city, taking life only from the willing, and doing whatever was necessary to get along and learn more about his craft.
Seme, Uke, or Seke: Seke - will lean more towards seme if the person he grows attached to is something he feels he wants to keep and protect, or uke if the person he's with earns his respect or shows far more prowess and poise than he, bringing him to kneel.
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(( Creator's Note - He's available! Marcan the Bloody, as I affectionately know him, is up for the taking! ))