Devon Surtova, Vampiric Nobleman – Steal this Background

Devon Alexander Hildebrand Surtova (just Devon to his friends, of course) was a member of the nobility, one of the younger sons of his house, and as such had no real chance of political power in his own land of Brevoy.

Not that he’d take it, simply offered it out of mere respect for his name. His ties to Surtova were the sort of resource that he didn’t put much stock in.

Early on, his strong independent spirit asserted itself, along with an overwhelming desire to prove himself on his own merits. After a brief attempt by the family to teach him spell-craft, he joined the military using a false name (his third name, actually: Hildebrand) and pushed himself harder than anyone expected. It wasn’t until reaching the rank of captain that he revealed the nature of his deception, feeling that he’d genuine earned it. Remarkably enough, he wasn’t thrown out of the service for it. Instead, his promotion was confirmed under his real name.

He was a skilled leader of men on the battlefield, instinctual and fast, leading from the front with tactics that always kept the enemy guessing. He had a knack for distracting the foe and exploiting their weak points; whether it was a family trait or not, it served him well. They put him in charge of a small elite unit, and they handled themselves admirably, completing missions that no one else would take.

He was respected, he had friends, he had a position, he even had the respect of his family — until…

…that fateful night.

Five of his close friends (the better part of his team) were returning with him from a party. All of them had had a bit too much to drink, the night was young, there was laughter and song… Until the vampire came. It attacked without warning, and though Devon fought well (even stabbing the assailant with what ought to have been a fatal blow) he was struck down, suffering a vicious bite, losing a lot of blood to the creature before his friends realized what was happening.

Only one of them survived the ensuing fight, and brought Devon to his family home. The change was inevitable.  Though he retained his own will and mind, he was obviously changed by the experience. The creature had taken his humanity, destroyed his friends, and as if to add insult to injury, it had broken his sword off at the hilt and stolen away with the blade.

Though his control of the vampire nature was exceptional, he now saw himself as a danger. And while his family would not kill him, they encouraged him not-so-gently to leave. They could not risk having him nearby, and the potential damage to their reputation was even worse (in their minds).

So he took to the call for adventurers who would go and deal with a bandit problem, in search of a place where he would be accepted for his skills and merits, and where his new-found condition might not matter so very much. He took with him only the clothes on his back (sturdy garments that would block the sun) and the hilt to his broken sword. He no longer needed it for fighting, but it helps keep him grounded against the beast… The little magic he once knew is long gone, and he has abandoned any attempt at his once prized swordsmanship – he fights better barehanded, now, and it’s better if he accepts it. If anyone asks about the hilt, he tells them, simply, “I am the blade, now.”

To his shock and pleasure, the adventurers he travels with have accepted him, fangs and all. They even respect his leadership ability. Devon now dares hope that with their help he might create a place where this kind of acceptance is the rule and not the exception.