Name: Ian Murdock
Gender: Male
Age: 229
Apparent Age: Mid-twenties.
Place of Birth: Blackpool, England
Species: Vampire.
Coven: Enashe
Appearance:
Ian is a man of average height, standing an inch under six feet tall. His dirty blonde hair is kept cut short to his scalp, never more than an inch or two and rarely combed. His appearance is not his primary concern, as shown by his often unshaven face. His eyes are vivid green, and set somewhat deep in his face above a nose which was fractured just before he was turned. It is not seriously misfigured, but neither does it go unnoticed. His skin has paled since he turned, but a good meal will easily allow him to pass as a human. He could be considered handsome by some, but he has an overall rugged appearance.
His body has been shaped by his deep practicing of the martial arts. He weighs in at around 190 lbs with very low body fat. His natural heightened vampyric strength has been furthur enhanced by regular training, just as it would increase a mortal's strength and endurance. He would be considered in extremely good shape, although he does not have freakishly huge muscles like a body builder.
His apparel is as average as it could be. He favors a pair of blue jeans, slightly loose but not baggy, held up by a dark brown leather belt. Basketball sneakers or work boots cover his feet, depending on the season/weather condition. A plain T-shirt or long sleeved shirt is about all he wears, depending again on the season/weather condition. He will wear an insulated denim jacket when the weather calls for it, and sometimes a black watch cap if it is particularly cold.
Abilities:
-Enhanced Strength, above that of many vampires his age.
-Enhanced Speed, above that of many vampires his age.
-Able to wake himself during the daytime
-Retractable fangs
-Can be exposed to diffuse sunlight for limited amounts of time (30-45 mins.)
-Enhanced vision, able to see in complete darkness, able to read a newspaper with his naked eye at one hundred yards.
-Naturally blocks out the thought invasions of all but the most skilled telepathic vampires. This is not a concious act, it was just something that developed naturally.
Weaknesses:
-No telepathic/telekinetic ability, save limited communication with other vampires, but only if the other vampire has made the mental connection
-Damaged on contact with Garlic
-Damaged on contact with holy water/blessed objects (crucifix, rosary beads, etc.)
-Death by wooden stake to the heart, decapitation, complete dismemberment, etc.
History:
Ian Murdock was born 1779 to James and Eliza Murdock in Blackpool, England. James made a living as a British soldier, while Eliza stayed home to care for Ian, along with his elder brother Oliver, and three younger sisters. The family considered themselves lucky, as James was able to secure a position as a local military official, instead of being shipped off to fight for the crown. Ian grew up destitute, his father's salary barely enough to support a family of seven. His brother Oliver started working at the age of 11, bringing in a small amount of extra income, as did Ian when he came of age.
Ian held a steady job, acting as a courier for the local mail distributor for six years. At seventeen however, his brother who was at the time nineteen convinced him into signing themselves into military service. They would be making much more than they were at the time, and with the two of them out of the house there would be two less mouths to feed. Convinced, Ian accompanied his brother in enrolling into the British army.
After tearfull goodbyes to his family, and a firm handshake from his father, Ian along with Oliver were transported to the nearest military training camp. There, they underwent a surprisingly breif training period, in which they were familiarized with their issued weapons and physically conditioned. It only lasted two months, at the end of which the two, along with over fifty of other local boys who had enlisted, were placed under the command of Harry Smith. Smith had been charged with the duty of taking British troops to southern Africa to aid a group of Dutchmen known as the Boers in conflicts with natives.
Six months aboard a ship of the British Royal Navy brought the brothers to southern Africa, the site where the Boers had made their settlement. Amost immediately they were employed against the native Xhosa tribes, which for the most part fell easily before their superior firepower and tactics. Nightly raids were a problem however, as the Xhosa did not seem to follow the traditional battle etiquette the British were accustomed to. During one of these raids, Oliver was killed by an african spear, which had been thrust through his neck.
Ian was hit hard by the death of his brother, isolating himself from what were once his friends. His grief sooned manifested itself into hatred for those who had taken the life of his brother. During battle, he became more ferocious, more savage. Often he would be seen rushing forward with fixed bayonet, as many of his comrades continued to fire on the attackers from a distance. He began to take an unholy joy in slaughtering those he blamed for the death of Oliver. Killing them was no longer his first priority, often wounding them so severely that they could no longer fight, letting them suffer for a time before ending their lives. Ian's descent into primal rage was observed by unknown forces. They studied him for months before making their move.
It was especially quiet this night. The night watch gripped their rifles with sweaty fingers, their wide eyes probing the black unknown surrounding them, their ears searching for any sound that might give away an ambush. Inside they knew it was coming, each and every one of them. It had happened every night for weeks. Every night they were plagued with dark skinned warriors who struck with the speed and power of a thunder clap before disappearing back into the night.
The night was almost over, the sun would be rising in less than two hours. Unfortunately for the soldiers, their attackers would not require that much time. The first guard fell silently, his killer signaling to the others that the way was clear. It was mere moments before the entire patrol was dead, and the small raid party was inside the British encampment. They did not savagely attack as they normally would. Instead, they made hastened steps on silent bare feet, their movements going completely unnoticed among the troop of sleeping soldiers. They had their orders, their target was clear. Seek and retrieve, bring the target back alive.
A black hand clapped over his mouth, awakening him suddenly just as half a dozen others immobilized him. Ian thrashed like a chained wild animal, but the combined strength of his assailants was too powerful. He tried to scream, but all that could be heard was his muffled voice, not loud enough to wake his comrades. The last thing Ian saw as a human, was the butt of a native club on a collision course with his forehead.
His heavy eyelids opened some time later, staring up at the bright, shining stars blinking in the unpolluted night sky. Ian's senses slowly began to return to him. He could feel the earth lying beneath him, the dried blades of grass crushed underneath him. He could feel the cool night breeze flowing over his body which he now realized was completely nude. His hearing slowly returned. He could hear a rythmic chanting coming from all around him, and a low rumbling noise which he could not immediately distinguish. His smell, now funtional again, seemed to pick up more than he ever remembered it could. Odors filled his nostrils which Ian could not identify, simply because he had never been able to smell them before.
It was then that a new sense entirely kicked in. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, goosebumps covering his whole body, even though he did not feel cold. The pit of his stomach churned uneasily, and he was filled with a sense of impending doom. He sat up quickly, eyes widening in reaction of what they saw. Not five feet ahead of him, stood the lithe, powerful form of an eight hundred pound cat, golden mane lining fierce yellow eyes which stared unblinking at him. The only reason the lion had not yet eaten him, was the half dozen natives struggling with all their might to hold the tethers which were tied around the cat. Ian's eyes darted about him quickly, realizing that he and the lion were surrounded by a ring of dark skinned warriors, spears extended to form a spiked circle around the two. They all chanted in unison, speaking words of an unknown tongue.
Ian looked back to the massive lion just as it's captors released it's restraints. As fast as his body would take him, Ian scrambled away, darting towards the spear wall that enclosed him. He could feel the beast behind him, quickly gaining ground. As he reached the spear wall, one of the warriors shouted and thrust his spear forward, sinking it halfway into his left shoulder. He cried in pain, turning around just as the lion lunged at him, taking him to the ground. It's sharp clawed paws sank into his chest, as it's fanged jaws shot at Ian's throat. He threw his arm up in defense, screaming as long, pointed teeth sunk deep into his forearm. In his struggle to get the beast off of him, Ian thrust his heel into the cat's stomach, kicking with all his might. To his astonishment, the lion flew back a half dozen feet. It struggled to it's feet, breathing irregularly from the fractured rib which had punctured it's left lung.
The great beast now looked as if it was frightened, it's glowing yellow eyes darting around at the ring of chanting savages, desperately searching for an escape route. By this time, Ian was back on his feet and had retreated as far away from the lion as the spears would let him. Scorching pain surged through his arm and shoulder, but his mind still could not believe that he had thrown one of nature's most dangerous predators off of him like a rag doll.
"You are the predator."
Ian heard the voice, but he could not see anyone speaking. He whipped his head around to find no one but the spearmen, and certainly none of them had spoken in such a voice.
The lion moved as soon as Ian's head turned. Before he knew it, Ian was back on the ground, underneath the massive cat, his hand pressed against the bottom of it's jaw, preventing it from taking another bite out of him.
"You are the predator."
The lion thrashed it's head, trying to get around Ian's blocking hand. It's paw swiped at the arm, pinning it underneath it's giant paw. Ian's other arm was useless, as the muscles in his shoulder had been severed by the spear. There was nothing between his head and the lion's fangs now. He was vulnerable, and he did the only thing he could do. In an instant of primal fury, Ian stretched his neck out as the lion bit at him, ducking under the deadly jaws and sinking his own teeth into the throat of the beast. "That's it..." The lion let out a great roar before quickly jumping off of Ian. The lion was now three feet away from him, yet it's torn trachea was clamped between Ian's teeth. A sickening wheeze was let out as the beast tried to breathe, blood flooding the now open airway, quickly filling it's lungs. It's legs slowly gave way, the lack of oxygen quickly killing the animal. The mighty lion lay on the ground before Ian, convulsing slightly as it choked on it's own blood. It's vivid yellow eyes soon went dull as the king of the jungle lay motionless.
Complete silence fell. The chanting of the ring had stopped, even the wind had ceased to blow. Ian stared in disbelief at the corpse which lay at his feet. He should be dead. He knew it. There was no way a human could possibly kill a lion bare handed, yet the lion was dead and he was still alive.
The silence was quickly broken as a roar erupted from the ring of Xhosa. Ian was startled, and his first thought was that they were angry. Was he supposed to die. Did he ruin their entertainment? No. No, they weren't angry. Their spears were thrust into the air, not into him. They were cheering. Ian looked about him as the warriors howled in satisfaction at the result of the battle they had witnessed.
Just as suddenly as they had broke into celebration, they stopped. All of them, all at once. Ian turned to see the ring of Xhosa part, revealing another figure standing behind them. This person was not like them though, he was different. As he neared, Ian noticed that his skin was also dark, although not like the african natives. He was a bald man, standing a few inches shorter than Ian and clothed in simple, loose fitting red cloth which was draped carelessly about his body. His bald head, which dimly reflected the brightly glowing moon, housed a pair of deep amber eyes which bored deep into Ian. The mysterious man stopped about five feet in front of him, observing him for a moment. A wide grin spread across his face, his oddly pointed teeth shining in the moonlight. When he seemed to be satisfied with what he saw, he raised his hand in what seemed to be a meaningless gesture. It was the last Ian ever saw of the man however, as at that moment, a blunt object swung by native hands collided with the back of his head, sending him once again into unconciousness.
He knows not how long he had laid there, but Ian awoke in the same spot he hand collapsed, but this time he was not surrounded by a ring of chanting savages. He rose slowly, observing that the corpse of the mighty cat still lay in the same spot, but upon looking around him, he saw no trace of any human life. Memories of what had transpired here rushed back to him, causing him to glance down at his shoulder. It was smeared with blood, which he knew to be his own, but upon inspecting the wound, he found that it was gone. A look to his other arm showed that the wounds from the lion's teeth had also dissappeared, along with the multitude of lacerations the lion had left on his chest.
Ian had no idea where he was and knew not which way to head if he wished to return to the army base, which he decided he really did not want to do. He began to walk east, doing so until dawn began to break. At first, he was relieved to see the sun come up, but just as it's first rays pierced the horizon, he began to feel a scorching heat all over his body. The higher the sun rose, the more he was burnt, blisters forming all over his body, he screamed, looking desperately for somewhere to escape the sun, but he was in the african plains, and there was nowhere to hide. Instinctually, he dropped to his knees, clawing at the ground with his bare hands, quickly scraping out a hole large enough for him to curl up into. He piled the dirt over him, not taking care to leave any air holes, which he later learned he did not need anyways. Ian spent his first day as a vampire underground, with nothing to do but wonder what the hell had been done to him.
He eventually fell asleep, and awoke again just as the sun set behind the opposite horizon. Ian rose from his hole, and continued his journey eastward. Thirteen nights he walked across the barren landscape, not encountering any people along the way. Every day he burrowed in a hole and awaited the setting of the sun, so he could travel safely. He cought small animals as he went, rabbits and the like, and found that the blood which flowed through their veins was much more appealing to him than the meat which covered their bones.
Ian had heard stories before, but until now had always thought them to be simply stories. He knew what he had become, however much he wished it wasn't so, and for his first few years as a vampire, he tried as hard as he could to live like a human. When he reached the African coast, he travelled north along it until, eventually falling upon the Nile river.
From there, he stowed aboard the first ship he found, which after a few months, brought him to an a port in India. He was able to make his way fairly easily across India, as there was heavy British influence there. A few more years brought him over the Himalayas and into China. Ian had become accustomed to his nocturnal life, and accepted it for what it was. He also saw immortality as a great opportunity to learn all he could about the world. He found the culture in China fascinating, and he soon fell in love with the country.
It was here he met his first fellow vampire, besides the one who had sired him. This man was not of chinese descent, but of Spanish heritage. The vampire went by the name Raphael, and at the time, he was almost six hundred years old. Raphael and Ian travelled together for almost a decade, and Ian was able to learn much from him, things which a sire would normally teach a newly turned vampire. Ian learned that he was not truly immortal, and could be killed by certain methods, as well as how to turn a mortal into a vampire should he ever need to, although to date he never has.
The two became close friends, but parted ways after nine years. Ian, having fallen in love with China, wanted to stay while Raphael wished to see other parts of the world. Last Ian heard, Raphael was headed north into Mongolia and Russia. That was the last he ever saw of Raphael, and does not know whether he is still alive or not.
While in China, Ian fell in love with a beautiful oriental maiden, Quai Lei Sheng. Lei, as he affectionately reffered to her, was the daughter of a martial arts master, versed in the art of the Five Ancestors Fist. Ian became fascinated with the art, and persuaded Lei's father to teach him, despite the fact that it was forbidden to teach a foreigner chinese martial arts. There are five distinct styles withing the Five Ancestors Fist, and a student is usually able to master one in a lifetime. Ian was able to master all five, learning from four different generations of Lei's family, after she had died.
Lei's death was not too hard on Ian. He had loved her for sure, and was broken for a time after she died, but he had always known it would come. He knew from the very beginning that he would outlive her, and anyone else he may become aquainted with, and he had made peace with that fact, as unpleasant as it was.
The dawn of the twentieth century brought disaster for Ian. When the Boxer Rebellion took place, Ian took refuge in the household of his martial arts master, but was discovered. He was all but forced to flee China, as much as he didn't want to, for if he had stayed with Quai Lei's descendants, his presence there would get them killed.
Ian smuggled himself onto one of the boats filled with foriegners headed for America. He had not yet travelled there, but heard it was quite the place. The voyage was relatively short, and he was soon in the "land of the free and the home of the brave." Seventy years took him everywhere worth being in the country, during which time he caught word of the vampire covens whose influence spread worldwide. He had met very few of his kind, but upon reaching the city of Demaitre, where he had heard many of the covens resided, he was bombarded with more vampires than he thought existed in the world.
He found it logical to join a coven, as it offered protection and gave one ties all over the world. The Amman would not accept him for he was far too young and inexperienced, the Ishak were far too brutal for his tastes, as were the Tarepha. He was persuaded to join the Enashe by a few of the new friends he had made in the coven, and so started his life in Demaitre. Ian had never been much for city life, but the change of lifestyle opened many opportunities for new learning experiences.
