Deep in the heart of the mountains lining the Southern half of Slovakia, an Estate rests quietly beneath the
silver face of the moon. Century old trees drape endless shadows across the gravel drives and sculpted stone
architecture. A skeleton staff, tucked safely indoors for the night, ensures it does not fall into complete
disrepair. Patiently, they await their master's return. Not even half a decade ago - it was not the case. In 2001,
the Estate flourished under the guidance of Gregori Davinov, as it had since he returned from journeys abroad
sometime in the late 1970s.
Beyond the courtyard. Past the heavy, carved oak doors. Somewhere within the maze of passageways meandering through
the main house - there is a portrait of a young man hanging on a sidewall of the master chamber. He is dressed simply.
If it were not for the obvious fact he commanded the subjectivity of the art - he would seem nothing more than
another of the servants. A white linen shirt allows sleeves to hang baggily about his arms, betraying nothing of the
portraits true age. A black vest gathers excess fabrics to his torso. He does not burden decorative companion
plinth with his weight. Black almost blue hair frames his face, pale, jaggedly cut to lengthen from his long bangs
until hanging below mid-back. Steel gray eyes watch, quietly, waiting. Always waiting.
Whether it is for his next order, or the next opportunity to present itself, one will never know. His expression is
somberly blank save the rapt attention in those storm laden eyes.
Matthias served his Sire, unwittingly, for years, coming from generations of butlers, cleaners, cooks, and
general staff resident at the Estate since its construction centuries ago. Revenants, the name that floated on
whispers. Families meticulously crafted - in more ways than one - to be exactly what it was their masters
desired when the time of necessity arose. Matthias had been groomed to obey, without question, anything his master
ordered.
An unfortunate incident at age 11 awarded the boy an afternoon tied to a hitching post, subject to a stableboy's whip at
the head cook's orders. It was nothing more than young boys at play. Roughhousing in the kitchen inbetween their
delivery chores. Yet, even young boys should have known better by now, after a lifetime serving the Davinov household.
There was no excuse for spilling one of the soups meant for the Estate's ball that night. An already frazzled cook
offered the boys no quarter; ridding herself of their nuisance with a sadistic groom's aid. As his childhood friend
cried out for mercy - something deep within Matthias snapped, and he began to crave what made others weep.
Far above, as the sun slipped below the horizon and the great house began to hum with activity, a shadow cast
itself across a balcony. Gregori watched.
It was this ferocious servitude and lust for pain that made him a favorite by the time Matthias entered the autumn
of his teenage years. Solid six foot stance and shy boy's smile, combined with unquestioning faith,
granted him chance to be ghouled. Once more the affects of ancestry preyed upon him without overt knowledge. The young
ghoul understood that his desire to serve became obsession - the thirst of which could only be quenched by the
Master's approving smile and occasional rewards of wine.
Barely approaching his eighteenth birthday, Matthias received the ultimate of Gregori's rewards. A meager month before
his eighteenth birthday found the young servant in his master's bed chambers. Hungrily swallowing mouthfuls of rich
Cainite blood in order to sate the maddening thirst that had overtaken this newly Embraced Childer. Unaware of the
process in which he had been groomed and chosen, he was still so painfully ignorant of what his new future had in store.
The plan to groom him into a ruthless Sabbat, willing and able to do anything for Sect and clan, was to last for
over a decade - it would grant his Sire acceptance back into the fold after years spent in exile. Specific
disciplines and traits were cultured since the first night of his birth. The young Tzimisce was not allowed even a
night's rest from his destiny. Viccissitude and torture skills developed at an alarming rate under the careful and
patient guidance of his Sire.
The plan, however, was rudely interrupted in October of 2001, in the midst of travel from Europe to the West Coast
of the United States. Amidst a series of secluded meetings in New York, Matthias was sent across the harbor to a quiet
and mostly neutral city named ShadowDrift, New Jersey. The intention was that he would secure a suite at the city's
finest hotel and await his Sire's availability to join him. Should Gregori not show by dawn, however, the young
Cainite had been instructed to assume the meetings became disastrous, leave the room, and search out other Sabbat in
the as of yet unrostered and unexplored city.
It is still unclear whether the ruling Camarilla or grudge-holding Sabbat were to blame for Gregori's disappearence.
Matthias was never privy to the exact demographics of the secretive meetings that stole his Sire.
For the first time in his life, he disobeyed his instructions. Matthias waited, hidden near their suite at the
Grande Hotel and desperately hoping, for two nights before hastily gathering his own belongings into a single bag
and escaping into the darkness. A chance encounter with the city Prince provided the means of finding the
ArchBishop of ShadowDrift's Sect - much to the groomed Lillin's surprise. In return for room and board, Miranda Green
offered him a position as her Aide until he could procure a place of his own. Aziz, the Sect Priest, took the
lost Childe under his wing and offered to continue his training until means could be discovered to reunite him with
his Sire.
Then he met Leon.