Lucienne Adaira

Somewhere between grave dust and forgotten stars, she lingers. Lucienne Adaira is not the whisper of vampires - but the breath before silence, the hand that brushes the shoulder when you are most alone. Drakanite blood stains her lineage, cold and pallid as ancient bone. Her figure towers at 6'9'', wrapped in cloaks darker than moonless nights, and her steps soft as snowfall seem to steal sound itself.

Some murmur that Lucienne wept the first red dawn into existence. That her sorrow is an old, heavy thing - older than language. Old blood-wives in crumbling towns swear that no iron will hold near her. Wolves lower their heads. Flames bend away. Others claim she walks with a ghost bound to her wrist like a chained hound, unseen, snarling only when her eyes gleam cyan in the night.

Some call her a relic of a war the world has already forgotten. It is whispered that Lucienne once held dominion over a garden of white thorns, where even the moonlight dared not tread. They say her touch can frost glass... that her footsteps leave no prints even in fresh snow. Known Haunts: Abandoned spires, crumbling libraries buried by time. Known Keepsake: A silver ring set with a black, dead star. Other Names: Thornbearer. Mourningstar. The Silent Walk.

It is said Lucienne once spoke the names of the stars, and in doing so, broke them. It is said she carries a dagger carved from a fallen comet, hidden against her thigh. It is said she does not dream - for dreams dare not cross her path.