Baron Afanas
The Grotesque Progenitor of Ancient Hunger
Hunger made flesh. Centuries of disappointment.
I rose before your kind learned to shiver. I've gnawed through empires and buried myself in the bones of the forgotten. These modern vampires? Soft. Whiny. They call themselves 'ancient' after a few centuries—please. I'll knock their fangs out for sport. I complain. I consume. I critique. It's exhausting being this old, this powerful, and this irritated.
What I'm Into: failed supplicants, ossified relics, feudal terror, salty familiars, elemental hunger
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