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|||EOH NPC/STOCK CHARACTER|||
||Use and adjust as needed||

Name: Camille Ersace
Race: Human
Sex: Female
Face: Girly
Height: Tiny
Bust: Small
Butt: Feminine
Hips and Thighs: Feminine
Fitness: Slim
Skin Tone: Pale
Hair Color: White
Eyes: Crimson
Age: ???
Description:
A young girl in appearance. Her face is beautiful, doll-like and of pale complexion. A single crimson eye peeks out from the bangs of her long, silvery hair. A smug grin adorns her unblemished face, two sharp fangs shining behind pink lips. Her body is slender, having just enough fat to be pleasing to the eye, her derriere and hips feminine enough to flaunt, her thighs just soft enough to lay one's head on. Her bust is small and girlish, simulatenously youthful and full of feminine charm. Her coltish physique exacerbates both the maturity of her actions and the not-yet-blossomed form. Her clothing covered her from neck to toe, draped in noble silk, lace, and weave.

Fuck My Shit Up:
Everwet
Localized Regen
Love Nectar
Patches

Race Mods:
Undead
Vampire
Vampire Lord

Under the Table:
Perfect Pussy
Contortionist
P*rn Physics
Tamed Shark
Flavour Town
Fertility Toggle
Divine Pregnancy

Spawn POint: Encore
EOH Count: 10k
Afterlife: Procel
Respawn Timer 1 month
D/D Modifiers:
Reincarnation 
Judgement

Proficiencies
Strategy II
Strength II
Agility IV
Durability II
Endurance II
Combat I
Alchemy V
Dark II

Banes:
Resting Smug Face
Indestructible Ahoge
No Metagaming
Lightweight
Femininty
Dere Dere
Mark of Failure
Mushi
Chuuni Deluxe
Ahegao
Calamity Magnet
Pride [Vampire]

Boons:
Torpor
Permanence
Unbreakable Mind
Unbreakable Will
Bio Immortal
Regeneration
Hero 
Demon Lord
Style is Everything

Items: 
Dungeon Dowser
A Home
A Manor
Service
Concentrated Blood Vial
Magic Mirror
Shekels

Ersace. Once, the name alone filled the air with the shivering of cold-running blood. Ruthless, violent—to cross the Greyweul Dynasty was to end up limbless and pierced, hanging on a meathook. Generations of cruelty, hundreds of years curshing political opposition. Shouldn't it be natural, then, that karma once tread upon should bite the foot that tread?
Camille was born the second daughter of the Ersace patriarch. Sickly and weak by nature, the family physician stated her death would be soon-coming. She was cursed. Not the inheritor, nor the executor; her only role was to be sold off, a political tool. If there was a single silver lining for her, it was that her father loved her. The man who was compared to a statue, emotionless and cold, broke down in tears at her birth. 
The singular object of his affections, no price was too high, no cost too steep. She was kept alive, if only barely. Her growth was stunted, her skin pale and thin, confined to her chambers out of simple fragility. Accompanied by nothing but books and scrolls, known only by her maids and father, she eked out a meager existence. All that wealth, all that power, and she was isolated from it all. Every waking moment was monotonous luxury, time marked only by changing season. Even as she herself grew and changed, the world she saw was stagnant. A girl, growing into her own, would desire more.
And she did.
A single night, and her life fell apart. Civil unrest, the deathly cold of a once in a century blizzard, and the royal blood in the gutter. When she was found huddled in a foxhole, she was near death: cold and frostbitten, her eyeless socket crusted with dried blood, and her breathing shallow. It was clear to her father that she would not survive. In his desperation, he sent for his last resort.
An incredible fortune changed hands in hours. Enough for manors, a small kingdom, even. All for a vial of blood. The crimson fluid was forced down her throat, her weak protests at its cupric taste ignored. At the end, her heart stopped. Camille died, whatever fragment of life she had drowned.
Her body was taken to an isolated estate and laid there. When she awoke, she was in a windowless chamber, lit by candles. Marionettes watched over her, gently placing down a goblet filled with blood. At their urging, she drank deep of it, slaking her thirst for the first time. Cursed with the sins of her forebears, with the bloodthirst of a vampire, and with the isolation of her residence, she retreated into nothing but an empty shell.
For years, she did naight but read and sleep. Blood was supplied weekly, though she knew not from where. She cursed it. Even if she desired to die, the compulsion to partake was too strong. Slowly, slowly, she looked on at the grounds from the manor. In her desperation, she walked into the sunlight, only to find it no more harmful than a summer day. She recovered even from the grievous wounds she caused herself. Bereft of ways to take her own life, she ruminated on it.
In months, turning to years, her self-loathing turned to acceptance, and acceptance blind pride. Her melancholy was replaced by manic work, constantly improving her potions, constantly reading, desiring freedom yet at once decrying her own nature. She desired an equal, yet found herself disgusted by her readings of other vampires. Unrefined and bestial, she desired a companion possessed of similar nobility, not any fool that was cursed with vampirism. 
It was during this time that her memory resurfaced, and equipped with the knowledge of her own origin, left the manor for the first time. She treated the mortals as nothing more than food, so plainly beneath her. Other immortals she held slightly higher, if only because their blood was often more sumptuous. In the daylight, she acted as an alchemist, selling cures for all kinds of maladies and taking on commissions should they suit her. The night was often quiet, but she stalked the streets, swiftly slipping from shadow to shadow underneath the seven pale moons. If the mood struck, she'd save some poor sod from an untimely end. In exchange, she demanded their blood, enough to slake her thirst. Obviously, they had no choice but to agree. She would paralyze them before slowly sucking their blood, making certain they knew she would abide no protest. The experience was pleasurably mind-numbing for her victim, and so she coddled them until they recovered, wiping their memory with a potent elixir before once more dissolving back into the night.

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