Damien (old)/Hooks

Vampyre: Perchance, dear reader, you are one of the few who wish to gaze upon the last and only true Vampyre left in existence? Why? Do you want to laugh at him and mock him, as all the others did his entire life, to make yourself feel better? Or do you yearn to understand the deep complexity of being forever alone?

Cemetery: I reside at the cemetery, for I am death incarnate. Certainly, my legal address does stipulate I am living with my mother, but that is just a formality. In truth, it is here where I live, or unlive, however thou wants to look at it.

Poetry: As you can probably tell from reading this far, I am a Mister of the Englush Language. My sonnets and poems are what drew Lillith, the queen of the Damned, to me and had her take me away from the light, and forever, deep into the plunging depths of alonliness and despair. Perchance you would like to read them? Perhaps, bolder still, you would like me to ... write one ... about you, or a loved one? I would be most intrigued; MOST INTRIGUED .........

Hunter: Do not hunt me, puny insect mortal human mater. I am death, destroyer of puny insect mortal human maters. I am the last of my kind. I was chosen for not only my strength with the written word, but also, my tenacity with the sword -- ENGARDE!! AVAST!! For the night is dark, and full of terrors, and no longer will I be wedgied ever again.

Ink: What's that, dear mortal? You like the way my ink looks? Yes, I painstakingly -- what don't touch my ink! Don't even think about it! Why? Um.. Because.. it's .. super.. vampire.. special. Yes. Now go away before I smite thee with dark undead prowess.