All things begin with a bit of mystery, a scrap of hope, and drizzle of curiosity. It is what drives us forward, what wills us to discover. It is what made me what I am. When I was young, the world of man was still fairly new. We were in a golden age of discovery, and creation. I was orphaned by the River Ticino just over five hundred years ago and discovered quite by accident by a fisherman who happened to decide that the fish were biting farther down river that day. You will have to forgive me if I don`t remember exactly how long ago. When you have lived as long as I`ve lived, you tend to let the little things like birthdays go unnoticed.

I was sent to an orphanage in Milan, to be educated and raised by the good sisters there. They were even kind enough to give me my name, however, you will have to forgive me if I don`t disclose that here. While I may be enlightened enough to lay some superstitions by the wayside, I am also wise enough and experienced enough to know that mankind is an arrogant creature. And there are many things out there which we can`t explain. I have heard it said that a witch might take one`s real name, and do a great deal of damage. You`re saying to yourself that there`s no such thing as witches. Just like there`s no such things as vampires, right? Do not assume that you have solved the world`s mysteries.

For now, you may call me Richard, my Americanized name. At the age of twelve, I was taken as an apprentice painter, and passed from artisan to artisan as back then, an apprentice was an expensive thing, and generally went to whoever was willing to pay the most for them. As my body grew, so did my talents. Unfortunately so did my libido, and while I had become a very great artist, it became clear to my Master, that my talents lay elsewhere. By the age of sixteen, I was the oldest boy working twice as hard for my Master, if you catch my drift. By day, I mixed pigments and oil to assist in my Master`s creations, and by night, I...entertained...my Master`s friends, and they in turn, paid my Master a small fee. As time went by, I became not only one of the most promising artists around town, but I was the highest paid whore as well. Mind you, I never thought twice about pursuing the oldest profession. At the time a young orphan with no profitable talents, ended up on the streets, and on the streets is typically where they died. My Master treated me fairly, and saw to nearly all of my requests. When I wished to see the opera, or when the ballet was in town, I was escorted there by one of his acquaintances. Generally, even these acquaintances paid my Master a fee for such a privilege.

While most may say `I don`t like to brag...` I am not most people. However, that being said, I never ever brag. I am merely a very honest man. Any free time that I had during the day was spent on the shores of Italy, swimming in the sea, and sunbathing naked on the sand. As such, my body remained lean, my skin a delicious shade of brown, and my ink black hair, which by that time had grown down to past my waist had a sun-kissed wave that only came from days swimming in sea water, and drying oneself in the Italian sunlight. While my cloudy sky gray eyes were a stark comparison, lucky for me, my appearance had always been fair and faun-like, almost feminine if it weren`t for my more than obvious male body. While I was orphaned, and therefore my genetic lineage is a mystery, I was raised in Italy. Have always considered myself an Italian. And while many a man may try to claim the title of “Italian Stallion”, trust me...they fall bitterly short of the mark when you compare them to a true thoroughbred like myself.

But I digress.

My talents both in the bedroom and out, caught the eye of a far older and much more deadly creature. Her name was Pennance. Pennance~Vendeatta~Sharde Dracul. A brilliant vampire who believed that art above all else must be treasured. That being said, she most treasured those who were plain and simply beautiful, and I was...I am...beautiful. I was purchased from my Master, for a fee, which I am sure was mind-boggling for the time. Had I known how long Pennance had been on this earth, then I wouldn`t have seen it so. For her, I was very likely a modest investment which she could more than afford to lose. So every belonging that I had was left behind save for a set of paintbrushes and a small wooden flute which I had carved myself. Everything else was left behind as it never really belonged to me. It had always belonged to my Master.

The next years of my life were torture. While I had believed, and naturally so, that I was the world`s greatest lover, that I was capable of pleasing anyone who was put into my bed, Pennance opened my eyes to a much darker world. A world of chains and leather, of whips and hooks. While she took great care never to permanently damage what she had purchased, this Italian Stallion was broken and tamed. And only after her expert teachings could I claim to truly be capable of pleasing anyone who was placed in my bed...or in my very presence for that matter. She taught me that pleasure does not always come from one`s bed, or one`s loins. Sometimes pleasure is about power. Relinquishing it unto the hands of someone stronger...or taking it from the grasp of someone weaker. My final test was a night alone in Pennance`s bed. There aren`t any words to describe it. An eloquent torture. A grotesque debauchery of divinity. A humbling explosion of decadence. She was the alpha and omega...and I was her newest, and greatest creation.

That night I went to bed truly and finally a man...and I awoke the next night...a blood thirsty Casanova who served his Mistress without question.

Decades turned to centuries, and my performance became a shining example of perfection. I was eloquent and courteous, charming and manipulative, graceful and strong but above all...I was beautiful. Mentally, physically, sensually. Pennance continued to educate me in life`s greater pleasures. Music, song, dance, travel, food. The food...the taste and feel of a ripe cherry bursting in your mouth. It`s enough to make one salivate at the thought.

However, Pennance had worked perhaps too hard in creating perfection. Was it only twenty years ago that I questioned her? Only twenty...in the hundreds that I`ve had...that I doubted my place? In any event...as was inevitable, I began to wish for freedom. For an independence to practice my art and craft on my own and to make my Mistress proud of me. Pennance was a women who treasured her belongings, and as I said, I was her most precious. Her price for my freedom, was the death of an enemy coven of vampires who had displeased her, and to create one final work of art. I was bound and wracked, and with whip and brush, blade and spoon, she painted her anger across my skin in holy water.

Pennance had taught me to turn pain into pleasure, but she was not inflicting it out of tenderness...it was being inflicted out of rage, and it tore my soul apart. I was thrown to the dogs after that. While she did nothing to inhibit my progress, I no longer had her help. I was alone and hated by the one person that I had sought to exalt with my independence.

I turned to my talents once again, and began making my way through this newer modern world as a whore of the times. My paintings were sold to the highest bidder, as was my body, though as I came to find out...whores in this day and age wore many guises. I worked a runway or two in the glamorous world of men`s fashion, was photographed on a few covers of various magazines as well as countless lingerie and fashion spreads, and found that with a level head on one`s shoulders, it was easy to make a living selling yourself. After that, I began a steady career of investing what I had hardly worked for at all, amassing a very great deal of wealth.

This allowed me pursue what was most lacking in my life. Love. Love of life, of beauty, of the heart. My voyage landed me into the arms of a man who I thought loved me...but was taken from me by a pack of werewolves. At first, I raged and sought to hunt down every pack of werewolves I could find. But after their blood had dried in the soil...my heartache and loneliness was no less. I began to question if love was really in the cards for me at all, and instead turned my attention then to doing good deeds. But as anyone can tell you...no good deed goes unpunished. A young Irish vampire by the name of Latanya Malessar had been rumored to have been held captive for decades by a coven of vampires, and while I had already killed once, it was no problem at all to kill again. While I tried my best to pick up the broken pieces of her mind, the tortures that she had endured fractured her mind, and I was left in the precarious position of becoming her patron. Lola, as that`s what I call her, became my ward, though after only a year or so, the mad woman was capable enough to navigate the world on her own. I finance her endeavors, and do my best to come to her aide when needed, but for the most part, she considers me her brother, and I consider her my responsibility.

She was not the only mad woman who would dance into my life. Another woman by the name of Harley and I became so close, that we became engaged. But we were addicted to each other. Her to my tender understanding, and I to her cruel but loving nature. During our romance, I began to feel an emptiness inside me that I couldn`t fill. So I created that which Pennance had created. A vampire youngling of my own by the name of Icarus. Harley became insanely jealous of the instant connection and tenderness that Icarus and I shared. He was terminally ill and beyond grateful for the gift of everlasting life which I offered. And she mistook that tender affection, for love. In the end, she could not endure it, and shot herself in the head, ending my reverie.

I blamed one man for my pain. Icarus. He was created out of hatred and there isn`t a day that I look back and wish that I could change it. Out of all the horrible things I have endured...Icarus` creation is my only regret. For as we continued on in our new immortality together, my hatred began to fade away with my memories of Harley, and I recognized Icarus for what he was. My soul mate. I then began the arduous task of trying to make up for my mistake. His creation should have been something beautiful, something tender, but instead had been filled with anger for me, and anguish for him.

We left the place we called home, though vampires much stronger than I...decided that I must pay the toll for both myself, and Icarus. I was tortured and skinned then healed until my skin was again flawless, and no trace of Pennance`s “art” remained. All my paintings were destroyed, including an art gallery that I had worked so hard to create called Thorn of the Rose. But I had Icarus. And he had me. And one night after my little artist had built me a stunning chair in his metal shop...he got down on bended knee and offered me eternal happiness.

And here is where you find me now. Engaged to a man that I love more than I love even my own life. Love more than all this great wide world, and still don`t feel worthy of him. While my heart is complete, I have learned from my mistakes with Harley, and two people do not a world create. I continue to seek out others like us, others who are understanding, who do not judge a man for falling in love with what many of our kind consider to be his own child. I continue to lavish all of my affection and love on a man who has managed to complete me.

If you seek to steal my heart, you may try, but you will fail. If you`re looking for a fight, then I`m happy to oblige. If you`re looking for wisdom, then I will share what I can. And if you`re looking for perfection...look no further.