March of the Ancients
Viktor Kheyls (deceased)
"I dont quite understand..." (Stabs with sword)
Standing at 6’1", Viktor, of Clan Brujah, is lean built and always with a slight smile on his handsome lips.
His brown hair is worn long, with the occasional lazy lock falling over his eyes.
Kheyls can easily be noticed by his trademark fur rimmed coat, his flowing walk, or the ancient rapier hanging from his belt.
Viktor was a student at a Russian college in 1745. Although far from the sharpest knives in the drawer, he was one of the best fencers the school had to offer the world.
One late night while training against a practice dummy,he was visited by an elderly gentlemen who challenged him to a match. Smiling deviously Viktor spun his blade masterfully and gracefully, and accepted the challenge.
Moving faster than any man of his age ( or any man in this world) the gentleman dove in with several lunges in the span of a few seconds. TO his own credit, Viktor dodged and parried all of them. Smiling a fanged smile, the gentleman removed his mask and introduced himself.
“My name is Alfred Worthpenny, I am pleased that your fighting prowess was not fiction! Let me ask you, dear Viktor, how would you like to fight forever?”
The Russian student was taken back by this question. Of course! he thought with fervor, all i would ever want to do is fight and win!
His eyes must have given Alfred the answer his mouth could not, for Mr. Worthpenny continued,
“I am going to take you under my wing, you might say. Teach you the ways of the night, and show you more fighting than you have ever thought imaginable! Come, Viktor!”
With a shadow of movement Alfred charged at the student, and sunk immortal fangs into mortal flesh.
When Viktor awoke, he was no longer in his training dojo, no longer in his college at all. Standing up, he looked out the window, and saw rain. “It doesn’t rain this time of year…” he thought aloud. A voice from behind startled him “Not in Russian,no. But in London, it rains almost constantly, it’s good for hunting, lad.”
Viktor turned to see, not the elderly gentleman he fought in his school, but a man in his early thirties dressed finely in english style. His grace and the way he moved told Viktor this was the man he fought. “What is going on, Mr.Worthpenny?”
Alfred held up a placating hand, " Please Viktor, call me Alfred. We will be together for quite sometime, so lets keep it casual. I am going to be your mentor in the was of the Camarilla and how to survive as Kindred…"
And thus began the first night for the rest of his unlife.