Sigmund Odbald

Overview
''Full biography found here. ''

Appearance
Hair: Black, showing threads of silver. He keeps it cropped generally to just above his jawline in a messy mop of slight curls

Skin: Pale, as one might expect of one of his species, though the porcelain quality of his complexion borders on hard to look at.

Eyes: A milky jade green, strikingly bright. He has a permanent wide eyed expression, as though constantly surprised.

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 122 lbs

Build: Thin, willow, he looks a bit like a stiff breeze could send him fluttering down the sidewalk. That said, his posture and physicality give the impression of someone much larger than he actually is.

Features: High cheekbones and a fine brow, a sharp chin ending his soft jaw line to compliment an equally sharp nose. Someone charitable might call him fox like, though others might make unkind comparisons to a hatchet. Handsome, if unconventionally so.

Markings/Scars: None of note.

Personality
Other vampires of his generation (and likely many others as well) may hold Sigmund as an example of how a vampiric aristocrat should not behave.

Widely regarded as a hedonist and a glutton, he lives by the creed that if one is to live forever, then they ought to spend it living.

He would refer to himself as "eccentric", though a more accurate label would be "wildly unstable". Prone to sudden flights of fancy, he seems always on the move, frequently picking up new obsessions and discarding them just as quickly. His memory is tattered by a thousand self inflicted holes: though he is nearly six hundred years old, he seems to struggle to remember anything from the distant and storied past.

Though in this case, "distant past" could be accurately translated as "last Wednesday".

He is remarkably jovial, much more inclined to make friends than enemies, though his inherent strangeness and irreverent nature occasionally get in the way of meaningful attachments.

Perhaps the biggest mark against his character by his night stalking brethren would be his treatment of other races. He does not think of humans and werewolves as being lesser creatures, nor does he seek any dominance over them. He is often fascinated by their simple and ephemeral lives, regarding mortals more as amusing curiosity than food.

Abilities

 * Highly proficient in water and air magic
 * A skilled artist, favoring paint and clay
 * Strangely charismatic
 * Obscenely wealthy
 * Was that last one even a skill?
 * He'd probably say it is

History
As cliché as it likely is, very little is known of Sigmund's past. This stems from two important factors: the first being that he is as unreliable a narrator as the world has ever known. The second being his habit of frequently burning the personal possessions he no longer finds interesting, including relevant documents on his lineage.

He has existed as an outlier in various social circles longer than many of his kind have been alive. He is regarded by the elite in much the same way as one might regard an exotic animal kept as a house pet. Interesting, certainly, until it destroyed all your furniture and pissed on the floor.

Most thought of him as distasteful, sure, and his invitations to dinner parties are few and far between. Though as much as they might dislike the man himself, none could deny his skill with a brush and canvas. His works are visceral, haunting, broad studies in passion, the soul, and violence. Unsurprisingly, he leans toward the avant-garde and abstract, rarely allowing himself to be caught up in one style for too long.

They could say what they liked behind their wine glasses, they could laugh quietly with their bourgeois little friends where they thought he couldn't hear. It hardly mattered to him. Anyone who was anyone knew that an Odbald original was a priceless status symbol.

And as long as they so gleefully lined his pockets, well-

Why should he care what anyone thought?