Standing just over six feet in height, Brega presents an appearance that is at once both imposing and refined. He always dresses in black cape with golden rims, black riding boots and a feathered hat. His broad shoulders and solid frame make him appear somehow squat and stocky yet elegant in a strange way. His beard is a scraggly growth that does little to soften his wolfish air. Brega’s face is that of a back-alley bully mixed with a noble, his weasel-like eyes gleaming wickedly from beneath his brow, his mouth almost always pursed in a cruel smile.
Once known as Peter, Brega was not always a vampire hunter, although he has poached the Kings finest harts the entire length of the forest.
His life had been hard and lonely, but he chose it and never regretted the decision. That life ended the misty dawn he met Aivara, the morning with the strange purple light. She was tied to a gallows oak with silver wire, her flesh steaming at the touch of the faint light.
To this day he cannot recall precisely why he rescued her. Certainly she was beautiful and regal, but he knew what she was, knew better than to go near a blood drinking succubus. Yet he did. His curiosity was his doom, or perhaps it was fate. Her eyes filled his mind, found the darkness hidden in his heart, and then he was hers. Within moments Peter had severed the bonds and spirited her into the deeper shadows of the forest, where she healed and gave him his reward. The two became as close as a vampire and a mortal could be.
Although Aivara never bestowed the dark gift upon him, she did bind their souls with blood. He became more than just a vampiric minion, she loved him, as close as a child of the night can come to love. The months passed into years and the years faded into decades, yet Peter showed no signs of aging. Aivara’s blood kept him vital, and he persisted far beyond the span of his mortal frame. Together they saw the world from east to west, even traversing the great oceans to even more distant lands. This unnatural affair came, as all things of this sort must, to a tragic end. As time passed, the pair became more brazen and less cautious. They attracted the attention of witch hunters and other selfstyled protectors of the innocent. Much worse however, was the keen interest of other Vampires began to take in them.
After giving Aivara every chance to desist and kill Peter, as is the eventual fate of all minions, they pronounced justice upon the lovers, in vampiric fashion. For several years the pair was able to evade the creatures that hounded them from one hiding place to another. Eventually though, the other vampires caught them, in a remote hollow deep within the forests, far from any succor.
Aivara found herself once more laid out for the sun to consume her curiously delicate flesh, this time with an iron spike through her belly. They ripped Peter apart and left him to slowly die, watching his love of nearly a century turn to ash before his eyes. In one last act of love or hate, Aivara attempted to bestow the dark gift upon Peter, but she failed. The sunlight and her own wounds made her too weak to push him past his mortal coil into the realm of the undead, but the blood did spawn a transformation.
As a century of his life burned up in that hidden hollow, the feeble blood coursed through his ravaged body, healing his wounds and searing his mind. Peter died that dawn, and from his hunger for vengeance, Brega was born. Nearly ten years have passed since that dreadful day, and he has felt no surcease from pain, although he carries the grim satisfaction of many kills. Perhaps he does have God’s blessings at least in some part. How else could a lone mortal stand for so long against such a dangerous prey.
Brega lives in a shadowy realm of isolation and vengeance, never again to fully rejoin his fellow men. He spends most of his life stalking the fogenshrouded borders of civilization, both hunting and being hunted by Vampires. He does, however, seek meager human contact, from time to time entering cities. There he stands apart, aloof and suspicious, as judgmental as any witch hunter, for the lords of the dead hunt in the bosom of civilization as well.
-Several sharpened wooden stakes blessed by a priest and inscribed with holy runes.
-A Greatsword laminated with a fine layer of silver.
-Holy water and garlic(Brega makes sure that it’s always fresh).
-Several holy symbols and lucky charms.
Strange and hurting as he is, Brega is approachable and may help the right people to battle evil, and he will certainly join any group seeking to kill a vampire. He is a tragic figure, wandering the narrow, hazy path of retribution and madness.
Nightmares revisit the trauma of Aivara almost every time he closes his eyes. Sometimes circumstance or surrounding will suggest the tragedy so forcibly to him that the Vampire hunter is momentarily overcome by a waking delusion, a horrific retreat by his mind to the moment when his old life was destroyed forever. Such attacks are rare, but Brega is not always capable of easily breaking their hold upon him.
This is a minor NPC created as part of an upcoming codex- NPC’s for hire. The idea is to create NPC’s that would easily join the PC’s group in an adventure. They can serve as mercs, guides, tag-alongs or share a common goal. When I have enough NPC’s I will make the codex official.