Character's Name: Gavril Stratokov

Race: Vampire

Gender: Intimidating male

Seme/Smuke/Uke: Painfully seme

Age: Looks to be in early to mid thirties (born in 1847) but is truly 160 years old

Hair Color: Solid black and long, an inch or two past his shoulders with no curls but waves in an awkward way that makes it seem it is slightly messy

Eye Color: Gunmetal grey, light in color but flecked in metallic pieces that seem to shine in any sort of light

Physical Description/Pic: Gavril is a strong looking man who stands at 6’4” with a lean, wiry build. Though he looks somewhat thin he does not lack muscle capacity and is quite capable of taking care of himself (even without the enhancements immortality has offered him). He is tall, usually towering over most people, yet walks with an almost ethereal grace. One would think a being of his size, height and weight would walk with a jerky motion, but all his motions are fluid and graceful as though he’s constantly in a state of flotation, water surrounding him and causing his motions to be slow and painfully visible.

His eyes are a strange yet alluring gunmetal grey which shine as though they have metal flakes within the pools of a lighter color. It’s awkward and yet suits his pallid complexion and rough Soviet features, with the long obsidian black hair that hangs an inch or two past his shoulders in locks that seem strangely messy and unkempt yet are always clean and easy to manage.

Personality: Gavril is...a strange man. With 160 years under his belt he’s learned much in his years and he’s seen even more. He witnessed torture, rape, murder and took his own fair part in all three at one point in time back in the home country. He is a dark individual who’s more often silent than social, separate, detached, as though he observes Humanity and the ways of the world from a distance. Analyzing, always analyzing...curious and yet aware.

He’s the quiet sort of man when approached, yet not one to pull away from contact. The warmth of another is always welcome and he’s known to offer a smile and act friendly enough. But when it comes to...preference, Gavril’s wants are dark and awkward. He craves control, to be the master of the situation and God to his...victim. No colleague of his could truly be called a “lover” or “partner”, none have lasted long enough to be. Whether killed by him or left to bleed to death, either way, not many of those he’s cared for ever lived to see another day... He has his reasons, or rather, doesn’t have the restraint. Moments of pain can be so beautiful, so perfect in the moonlight... Sometimes he just gets...carried away.

Gavril is also known for approaching the world in a unique fashion, his Nihilist teachings and Narodnik upbringing skewed his perception of morality. He believes that life is a fickle thing, so easily destroyed and manipulated and so therefore a right to earn. Those who abuse their lives have no reason to live, but those who have served a purpose perhaps do. A place for everyone and everyone in their place, he believes that to “live” is to feel that which makes you feel “alive” And what’s always made Gavril feel alive is...well...forcing others to feel “alive” in his own special way. He believes he knows, through his years, through his experience, through his telepathic ability...he knows you, inside and out, he will infiltrate your mind and sift through your memories. He knows you, he will always know you, and he’s the only one who knows what you need.

Background/History: Gavril was born and raised in Russia in a time of extreme turmoil. Nihilism was on the rise, Anarchists were on the move. Gavril went through his young life struggling alongside weary parents and hungry siblings, many of which died of disease. The movements of the area forced them to move constantly about Russia, forcing them into long bouts of going hungry...Gavril grew sick of it and when he was old enough, he left to join these movements that claimed wanted to help make Russia a better place. To put the ordinary man in control and revive the country.

At age 14 he joined the movement and was welcomed into the ranks with twisted smiles and willing hands. They weren’t exactly picky...a warm body was a warm body. For the majority of his years he was merely a handler and laborer, helping with equipment, movements and menial tasks. Until he turned 17 and assisted in a riot... As he grew it was clear he was going to be a large and useful fellow, someone that would be very nice to have in a fight...

So, with that in mind he was included in more of the movement’s actions. The Narodnik movement became bigger and bigger, more people were convinced, citizens were impatient...they wanted change and they wanted it now, and the Nihilists were all too ready to exploit their anger.

As the years passed the tension rose, and with each new year Gavril learned more and more of his country, of his people, and how horrible his kind actually was. Humans, constantly fighting, constantly stabbing their brothers and cousins in their backs, in their sleep, in the dark where no one could see or ever know. Deceitful, greedy, with a need for control. Gavril didn’t realize his slow decline into the very thing he had learned to hate, how he enjoyed killing the figures of his country, those important figures.

He was 34 when Alexander II was killed.

He was present in the party that made the assassination.

In their flight they ran into the waiting arms of government officials, Gavril was one of the few who helped the assassinator to escape. With effort and rage the officials were all killed, yet most of those who stayed to fight were as well. Seven men lay in the alley, bleeding and attempting to make peace with whatever gods they worshipped. Gavril was one of them, on his knees and clutching a knife wound to his side. The blood was a deep black when it ran, and he’d have died if he hadn’t been confronted by a strange figure nearby...

Gavril had seen his face before, though from where or when he even now cannot say. A dark man, with black hair like himself and similar gray eyes, though his features were somewhat younger and cleaner cut. He approached just as Gavril’s sight was beginning to fade and offered a subtle smile that betrayed his amusement.

Whoever he was, he told Gavril it was a brave thing that he did, that to die for one’s comrades was true courage indeed. He told him that he’d been watching the Narodnik’s movement and was intrigued with their progress. Though their violence was sure to only push the country into further turmoil, it was amusing, and that Gavril’s part in the entire machination was unique most of all.

Gavril can’t recall what happened, he believed he’d blacked out, but he awoke, feeling healthy and without pain, in a cabin many miles from civilization. He knew this because he wandered there, to the nearest city and was forced to start anew and reclaim his memory. Within days he remembered the struggle, the battle, the assassination...it was clear as day but for the life of him he could not remember what happened in the cabin, after the struggle in the alley. All he could recall was heat, the taste of metal and something that was more powerful than any drug or draught of alcohol he’d ever partaken of... He soon sought out the source.

It was only through accident he found it, in the veins of a young woman just outside of Moscow. Gavril slowly learned he was “different” than he’d been. He was stronger, swifter, his senses had intensified and if he focused with his eyes he could detect the thoughts of others. He’d visited the city in search of this mystery drug and after finding himself abed with a woman who’d been taken with him, in a moment of extreme passion he’d bitten into her neck and shed her blood. What made him want to bite her he couldn’t explain, but after that he swiftly found what he’d been craving...

The more he fed the more he realized daylight weakened him. The more he delved into the taking of life the more he was forced into the shadows of night. But as time passed, he no longer cared... Day was nothing to him anymore, he could avoid it easy enough, and blood? From whom it came meant little (though weaker minds and those easy to manipulate soon became his favored targets). He soon also realized gender was all but useless as well, in his travels abroad he’d learned that to be with a man served the same purposes (if not his purposes entirely) for the need to control. For to conquer a woman was a minor feat...but to conquer a man was a deed worth recognition. The look in their eyes and the way (in their) their voices would beg...

Suddenly Gavril realized he had a new preference entirely, and traveling as he always was, was never far from fresh blood.

Likes: Classical music, sound proof rooms, the sound of scraping metal and drills
Dislikes: Silence, people whispering nearby him (he’s somewhat paranoid), males who think they can overpower him

Turn Ons: Shyness, weak minds, when they “fight back”
Turn Offs:  People who know of him, those who can read his mind, usually people who speak of the era in which he grew up

Quirks:

-- Is very much addicted to blood
-- Is strangely sadistic
-- Is often very calm and those who meet him in a casual fashion would explain him as “friendly and charming”
-- Can be somewhat intimidating given his size
-- Absolutely loves Pavane, any interpretation, as long as the violins are clear and crisp he loses himself in the melody. It’s one of the songs he simply adores.

And hey! Fill this out too to help find you the right kind of partner!

Time Period Preferred: Modern!

Player Limits: I havez none! xD

Time Zone/Activity: PST, I’m on and off all week, usually on most days after 12 or so. ^^