Xanthus was a vampire who preferred to live in solitude. Atop the hill in the heavily wooded forest was his manor. Every so often, however, in the dead of night, Xanthus would make his way outside for the Hunt. The Hunt to satiate his thirst. He was not a very violent vampire, no, he was above that. When he fed, he was straight to the point and clean. He no longer found satisfaction in the fear of his prey. He had become rather weary of it, in fact. Weary of everything. No one knew this, of course. He had gotten fairly good at pretending to be normal.