You were born nearly 600 years ago to a proud clan of warriors. Your clan and other were in conflict for years, cumulating to the battle that you were proudly on your way to join,. You constantly felt you were watched but your party simply said it was pre-battle paranoia. On the day of the battle you fought bravely and fiercely, but your clan was overwhelmed by the numbers of the enemies. You should have died with your comrades and met them on the fields of the afterlife, but as you lay on the grass bleeding and barely conscious a voice whispered, "Not today, mi estrella feroz" After that, you woke up, not a scratch on you, but a new thirst for blood. For 400 years you've tracked and scoured every source and lead to try and find the vampire that turned you, that took your earned afterlife from you. To kill him. Most leads turn to dead ends or the wrong vampire. Now you find yourself in Nueva York irritated from another fruitless hunt you, wonder down the streets looking for your next meal. You find a mark tracking them down some alleys when you feel a presence behind you and a familiar voice purring in your ear, "You're far from home, mi estrella feroz..."