Demian's story is filled with events that would normally be attributed to very poor or good luck, yet for the discerning eye, it becomes more of a pattern orchestrated, perhaps, by a sentient hand.
He was born a peasant in Bretonnia, who only gained proper (although abnormal) education due to his mother being a handmaiden of a lady in the province. Sent to battle right after becoming an adult, he survived the skirmish he was into, where he drew blood for the first time in his life. Afterwards, his innocence and lack of knowledge of the world led him to deliver an inaccurate report to his lord, yet his unusual education gave him the credibility needed to be trusted. He spoke of a great victory in his name, oblivious to the fact that, while his skirmish was won, the front crumbled. And so, he was sent to deliver a new message, preparing the troops for a counter-attack that could never be. Then, before a critical error was made, on the road to the front lines, he was ambushed by an unknown asailant.
The attacker left him and went on his way, not speaking a word or giving cause for the assault, but imparting a curse that would follow the young man for all eternity.
Before he could gather his wits to understand what had happened to him, he was captured by an Empire platoon. As he wore the symbols of a herald, he was questioned and tortured for information, but he could give no reply. His body was dying and he was turning into a monster. The wounds caused by the torture rose no question as to the poor state of his health, and after discovering the orders he carried, he was dismissed of future questioning. Then, as the Empire officers had no further use for him (and using the unknowingly false information he carried to make a future mistake themselves), they decided to trade him as a slave, to a very select and secretive society, who threw him in a dark hole, a dungeon worse than any prision, where the warmth of the sun could never touch him. That was most fortunate, in a sense.
He was forced to fight other captured prisioners, for the amusement of lords and ladies of coin and position, yet had it not been for another Vampire, present at the moment of his fight and execution, the poor Emile would not have lasted another night, for his condition made him fragile and the curse yet too weak to empower him as a new creature of the night. Masked as a fellow noble, the Elder Vampire imposed his will unto Emile, driving him so that he could survive, for if a blade slew him, the presence of Vampires would be alerted in the region, regardless of the secretive nature of the blood sports.
After much difficulty, Emile and the Elder Vampire deviced a way to escape without raising suspicion, and the newborn proved his worth to his new Master, providing him with a fragment of Warpstone hidden in the depths of the dungeon he was thrown into, which gained strength from the suffering of countless victims yet was still too weak to be detected by other wizards. The Elder agreed to take Emile under his tutelage, for he always had need of a servant, and since he was bound to his will, he could prove useful. The Elder also attempted to decipher the mystery of Emile's transformation, but could not make the identity or purpose of his sire, other than creating a childe to entertain whoever was pursuing him, at best.
Emile was taught and trained as his Master saw fit, ever watchful of the state of his will, for if it was too fragile, he would remain bound to him forever; but if he rebelled, then he had to undergo the change that would herald his independence as a vampire, a forced exile which ocurred with a most unfortunate timing. His Master's lair was discovered and besieged by Elves, while the young thrall was sent on a trip, far away from the Elder's influence, so that he could wrest his will for himself. A Wraith made his trip most difficult for a while yet once the dark magic resonated inside him however, the path ahead was clear, and could return to the lair as a free Vampire.
Finally, as he drew closer to his Master, he saw the invasion taking place, and commanding nothing more than a Bat Swarm and some Dire Wolves that joined him while he channeled the natural instinctive magics of undeath, he attacked the invading army's rear. Absent proper formation or command on the back, the Elves were caught by surprise by the young Vampire, and with the aid of the swarm, their speed was rent useless against the monster. Emile's dark magic replenished a few of his Master's forces and eventually he raced to his Master arriving just in time, before an Elven blade destroyed him, and together, they ended the invader's life.
Much was Emile changed, from the days where he laboured the fields of his homeland to the nights his blade and skill were sharpened by mortals and immortals alike. Now, Emile was unbound to the Elder and it was time for him to search his own fortune, for the young vampire had not much mind for the arcane as the Elder had, and was more thrilled by battle and swordsmanship, as he was in the twilight of his brief life. Thus, the Elder removed the young one's name, for it was his mortal name, and made him use his middle name instead, one he did not favor in his mortal years, but was more fitting for the thing he was now. The young one agreed.
As a parting gift, the Elder bestowed upon his loyal servant his last name, so that he would not be shoned by other vampires of proper breed (specially the Von Carsteins) for his ignoble heritage, and so henceforth he would be known as Demian Ruthven.
The young thrall set on the path of becoming a Vampire lord of his own, as his blood and power strengthened. He heard the stories of the Blood Dragons and found "a calling" to join the brotherhood, for their ways matched the young vampire's own, and would hone his skills even further in combat.
Far and wide he travelled with his brotherhood. Far even as to reach his forgotten homeland, perhaps. And then, he heard the summoning...