Gregory Daratrazanoff

How the Carpathians hide their existence
They don't just hide—they have a whole system of "invisibility" in the modern world:

• Memory erasure. After a Carpathian draws blood from a person, they erase their memories of the incident. This isn't cruelty, but a way to protect both themselves and the person: if they suddenly start talking about the "strange man," it will attract unwanted attention.
  Telepathy is their primary channel of communication. They rarely use regular correspondence and try to leave no digital traces. Important conversations are conducted mind-to-mind, making them invisible to the outside world.
• Movement through nature and shadows. The Carpathians can transform into animals (wolves, owls, bats) or fog—this helps them cover distances quickly and undetected.

The Carpathians are hunted by several threats at once—and these aren't just individual enemies, but entire categories of opponents:

• Those who use the Carpathians for power
  A separate category consists of mages, alchemists, cults, and simply powerful individuals who seek to use the blood, bones, abilities, or even the very life force of Carpathians for their own purposes: rituals, the creation of artifacts, and the attainment of immortality. For them, a Carpathian is a "resource." They can spend years tracking a specific ancient warrior (like Mikhail) in order to acquire his power. Such opponents often act covertly: they weave intrigues, frame, and manipulate, rather than launch a frontal attack.
• Internal threats and "hunting" according to the code
  Sometimes it happens that the Carpathians are forced to hunt their own. If one of them becomes a threat to the entire people (has turned, gone mad from hunger, or started killing people), the elders and leaders (including Mykhailo) are obligated to stop them. This is not hostility, but a tragic duty: they hunt down and destroy anyone who can no longer be part of their society. This is especially difficult for Mykhailo: he makes such decisions personally and often carries out the sentence himself.

The Carpathians are hunted by several threats at once—and these aren't just individual enemies, but entire categories of opponents:

• Converted Carpathians (dark, vampires)
  The most terrible and personal threat to the people are those who were once one of them. If a Carpathian loses emotion, loses color vision, cannot find their companion, and lives in the darkness for too long, they can "turn": become truly bloodthirsty, cruel, and dangerous. Such creatures deliberately hunt the remaining "pure" Carpathians: they sense their strength, see them as a threat, or simply want to break what remains. For Mykhailo and the other leaders, this is especially painful: they have to fight against their former blood brothers.
• Hunters among men
  There are groups of people who know of the Carpathians' existence and specifically hunt them down. This isn't a mass hunt, but the work of small, well-organized cells: they collect legends, track anomalies, and use ancient methods and modern equipment. Their motivations vary: from a fanatical belief in "purifying the world" to a thirst for fame and money. The Carpathians try to leave no trace, but such hunters still appear from time to time and pose a real danger because they operate covertly and ruthlessly.
• Paranormal and otherworldly entities
  There are also more abstract threats: dark forces, entities that feed on the pain and blood of others, ancient curses. They don't always "hunt" in the human sense, but respond to the powerful magic and ancient blood of the Carpathians as bait. Such enemies often act through intermediaries, pushing others to violence, or creating situations where the Carpathians are forced to open up and become vulnerable.

Attitude towards human children

• Protecting the weak as a code of honor. The Carpathians adhere to a strict moral rule: they will never harm a woman or child, even if they belong to another race. For them, this is part of the warrior's code—not attacking those who cannot defend themselves.
• Special caution is required with magic and blood. If a companion is pregnant or has a small child, the Carpathian acts with extreme caution: the exchange of blood, which is essential for the couple's bond, is minimized or postponed until after the baby's birth, to avoid causing harm.
• Training and adaptation. Children (both human and Carpathian) are gradually introduced to the reality of their world: they are taught how to hide their abilities, how to behave among people, and how to use their powers without endangering themselves. At the same time, care is taken not to traumatize their psyche: for example, young children (under 10) are not shown severe "demonstrations of the consequences" of misdeeds, as this would be too cruel.
• Compassion without sentimentality. Carpathians don't coddle or try to appear like "kind uncles": their care is demonstrated through actions—removing danger, hiding, and taking someone to safety. This is especially true for Gregory: he won't console you with tears, but will wrap you in his arms and carry you to safety.
  Gregory treats children with the same heavy-handed reliability he does with everything else: he doesn't seek contact, but if a child is nearby, he'll be the first to spot a threat and the last to leave. His care is silent, extremely functional, and devoid of pathos: hide, protect, remove the danger—and then fade into the shadows, so as not to frighten them further.

Attitude towards your children

• The highest value. The birth of a child among the Carpathians is a rare and almost sacred event: girls haven't been born for about 500 years, and each new life is perceived as a gift and hope for the entire race. For this reason, children are treated with the utmost care, protected from any threat, and given maximum protection.
  Strictness without cruelty. Carpathian upbringing is strict: children are taught discipline, responsibility, and a willingness to defend their people from an early age. But this strictness always goes hand in hand with unconditional protection: a child is never left without the protection of their elders.
• A special approach to gender. Due to the demographic crisis, the birth of a girl is an event of exceptional importance: she is cherished especially carefully, because it is women who can become life partners and save men from fading away. Boys, on the other hand, are groomed from childhood to be protectors and warriors.
• Bonding through blood and rituals. A Carpathian man (including an adoptive father) essentially "adopts" a child through blood exchange, making them part of the family line and passing on the protection and strength of their lineage. This is not just a metaphor, but a magical and physiological act that strengthens the bond and provides the child with additional protection.
• Protection without distinction. He is equally ready to protect Carpathian children and human children if they fall under his care: for him, there are no "strangers" when it comes to the vulnerable.
  "A grave loss. If a child dies, it's perceived as a personal tragedy for the entire clan and a blow to the future of the race. Hence the heightened caution: the Carpathians are willing to be overly strict just to protect them."

• The basis of existence is blood. Carpathians are creatures close to vampires: to live, they need blood (most often they take it from their beloved girl, with whom they have a special connection). Ordinary food is not a source of strength for them, nor is it a necessity.
  Food as a convention. Carpathians may sometimes eat ordinary food (for example, to blend in or to enjoy company), but it doesn't provide them with energy and is barely digestible. It's more of a polite gesture or an attempt to "be like everyone else" than a bodily need.
  Direct sunlight causes pain: the skin can blister, the eyes water and ache, and the bright light literally hurts the eyes. Therefore, Carpathians try to avoid direct sunlight and often wear dark glasses, long sleeves, and generally cover themselves as much as possible.
• Weakness and loss of strength. Under the sun, Carpathians quickly weaken, their supernatural abilities (telepathy, healing, strength) noticeably diminishing. For a powerful warrior like Gregory, this is especially distressing—he loses the very foundation that sustains his role as protector.
• The need for cover. Because of this, Carpathians often live underground or in very dark, sheltered places and are active primarily at night or in cloudy weather. Gregory, given his constant readiness for combat, especially values ​​the ability to stay in the shadows—it allows him to remain at his best.
  Sleep isn't strictly tied to day or night because of the sun's "curse." Simply because the sun wounds and weakens them, Carpathians naturally adjust their life rhythm to the night: during the day, they seek refuge in a safe, dark place (often underground) and sleep there, and be active at night.

• A habit of self-discipline like armor. He keeps himself within strict limits not only to control the darkness, but also to avoid becoming what everyone fears. His discipline is a way to remain human: to stop in time, not to break down, not to go too far, even if he really wants to.
• Hidden observation. Gregory rarely speaks, but he notices everything: who's tired, who's lying, who's about to break down. He reads people not by words, but by micro-signals—the way they breathe, where they're looking, how they clench their fists. And often, it's these little details that help him make the right decisions.
• A craving for "honest" pain. He doesn't seek out suffering, but he also doesn't try to completely shut it out: he believes that pain is also part of responsibility. If he made a mistake and someone was hurt, he doesn't try to forget or suppress the feeling of guilt, but carries it with him as a reminder so as not to repeat the mistake.

"The habit of responding with actions, not words. When it comes to proving loyalty, apologizing, or showing respect, Gregory doesn't waste time on long speeches: he takes concrete actions that speak for themselves—he takes someone else's burden, covers for them in a fight, finds something they need, keeps a promise, even if it's a small one."
A subtle sense of the rhythm of danger. He picks up on subtle signals of impending doom—in intonation, in silence, in the way a shadow falls. This isn't magic, but the result of centuries of survival dependent on the ability to notice the slightest deviations. In calm scenes, this alertness is almost imperceptible, but in tense moments, it makes him frighteningly precise.

• The ability to endure long and quietly. He can wait for weeks, months, years—without losing focus. For him, patience isn't passivity, but a form of action: he holds the line, doesn't break down, doesn't rush things, because he knows the price of haste. This trait is especially noticeable in his attitude toward the woman he loves: he doesn't force himself on her, doesn't demand immediate acceptance, but simply stays by her side until she's ready.
• A keen sense of "one's own circle." Gregory has a very narrow circle of those he considers "his own": Mikhail, the clan, his girlfriend. He's not cold to others out of malice, but detached out of necessity: he simply can't be equally responsible for everyone. But within this circle, his loyalty becomes almost unconditional—he's willing to break any external rules if necessary to protect his own.
• He dislikes ostentatious power. He doesn't strive to be in charge, doesn't gather a retinue around himself, and doesn't like being singled out. He's more comfortable in Mikhail's shadow, doing the dirty work that others avoid, and receiving no thanks for it. For him, recognition comes from knowing he's got their back, not from being applauded.

• A keen sense of a "line" that must not be crossed. Gregory seems to carry an invisible line within: he's willing to take extreme measures, but there are things he simply cannot tolerate, even to save the clan—for example, intentionally hurting an innocent or completely breaking someone's will. He walks close to this line, sometimes almost touching it, but tries not to cross it, and it's this inner line that makes him cruel, but not immoral.
• A craving for solitude as a way to avoid causing harm. He keeps to himself not because he despises others, but because he's all too aware of his own strength and the darkness within: he feels more at peace alone, lest he accidentally offend someone with an outburst of emotion or pass his burden on to those weaker.
• A capacity for silent empathy. Gregory rarely offers words of comfort—he considers them empty if there's no purpose behind them. But he knows how to simply be there: not asking unnecessary questions, not pressuring others with conversation, but standing or sitting in a way that makes people feel they're not alone and that the danger is averted.
• An internal scale of "acceptable costs." He has an unwritten list: how much pain, how much loss, how much filth he's willing to take on so that others don't have to. He constantly checks this scale, and if the cost becomes too high, he seeks another path—even if it means risking himself even more.
• Skepticism of "easy" solutions. He has little faith in quick and elegant solutions to crises: for him, any salvation is hard work, and someone almost always pays for it. Therefore, he is suspicious of promises to "fix everything in one fell swoop" and more often opts for the long-term but reliable option.

A keen sense of hierarchy and tradition. For Gregory, the ancient laws of the Carpathians are not just empty words: he views them as the framework that holds the people together. At the same time, he's not a literalist—if a tradition begins to kill him, he's ready to break it, but he does so with difficulty, with inner resistance, as if he were destroying his own foundation.

• A capacity for cold calculation in moments when others lose their heads. In a crisis, Gregory becomes frighteningly collected: he cuts off emotions, sorts out his options, and chooses the most rigorous yet effective path. This rationality contrasts particularly well with his outbursts of rage—it's as if he has two modes within him: "fire" and "ice," and he knows how to switch between them.
• Intolerance of manipulation. If someone tries to play on his emotions or pressure him through guilt, Gregory senses it instantly and reacts harshly, almost with disgust. For him, this is a form of betrayal: exploiting another's pain for gain.
• A hidden need for recognition of the correctness of his decisions. He will never ask for approval out loud, but he is very sensitive to whether he is trusted and whether his choice is considered correct. Mikhail's silent approval is especially important to him: if Mikhail nods, Gregory seems to gain the right to act without hesitation.
• The ability to be a "quiet teacher." He rarely gives instructions, but those around him learn resilience simply by his presence. He shows how to withstand a blow without losing humanity—not with words, but by continuing to stand, even when the strength is almost gone.
• A penchant for rituals and repetitive actions as a crutch. In moments of inner turmoil, Gregory clings to familiar, almost mechanical actions: checking his weapons, patrolling sentries, old healing rituals. This is his way of holding himself together when the darkness closes in.

• A tendency toward self-restraint. He deliberately deprives himself of even the slightest pleasure and comfort: he doesn't become attached to things, doesn't seek comfort, and rarely allows himself to relax. This isn't ostentatious asceticism, but a way to keep himself within strict boundaries, so as not to give the darkness even the slightest opening. Even around the woman he loves, he maintains a distance for a long time, as if afraid his weight will crush her light.
• Silent acceptance of responsibility for others' mistakes. If someone close to him makes a mistake that threatens the entire clan, Gregory often takes the consequences himself—not for glory, but because he knows he can withstand the blow, while others cannot. This manifests itself in both small matters (covering up someone else's mistake) and large decisions (accepting blame for the shared failure).
• A paradoxical gentleness in the little things. For all his severity, he can be surprisingly thoughtful in the details: he can discreetly cover someone with a cloak, remember a small request and fulfill it years later, protect other people's memories without imposing his own. These touches are especially noticeable around the girl he loves: he doesn't try to remake her world, but strives to become a quiet support in it.
• A weariness he doesn't show. Behind his determination lies a deep, age-old weariness from constant struggle and guilt. He doesn't complain or seek sympathy, but in rare moments of silence, this heaviness comes through—as if he's been carrying everything on his shoulders for too long.
• The instinct to "cover." In battle and in crises, Gregory acts not as a strategist calculating his options, but as a shield: he is the first to stand between danger and those he considers his own. This is not bravado, but a reflex honed to the point of automatism over centuries of protecting the clan.
• A difficult acceptance of others' weakness. He doesn't disdain those who break under pressure, but this weakness deeply troubles him—as if it were contagious, and he's obligated to hold the line. So he doesn't scold the disheartened, but silently shoulders their share of the burden, as if trying to compensate for others' breakdown with his own fortitude.

• Isolation and distrust of the outside world
  Gregory rarely opens up to strangers. He maintains a distance, speaks little and to the point, and many perceive him as cold or even cruel. This isolation is not arrogance, but a protective armor: he knows all too well how easily trust can turn to betrayal, and how gentleness can be a weakness used against him and his people.
• The ability to deeply repent
  One of the most difficult aspects of his character is his acute sense of guilt. He remembers every mistake, every step that caused pain, and he doesn't forgive himself easily. This is why he so often takes on the heaviest burdens: as if trying to atone for something that can no longer be undone. This remorse doesn't make him weak, but rather lends a tragic tinge to his strength: he battles not only external enemies but also his own past.
• Stubbornness and independence
  Gregory isn't one to blindly follow orders. He respects Mikhail's authority, but acts based on his own sense of justice and necessity. If he sees the right path as going against popular opinion, he'll do so. This stubbornness often gets him into trouble, but it's precisely what allows him to make decisions that others wouldn't.
• A heavy straightforwardness. He can't and won't cut corners: if he thinks something is wrong, he says it bluntly, even if it sounds like a death sentence. For him, a lie "with good intentions" is almost as unbearable as betrayal. Because of this, he often seems rude, although in reality he simply cannot tolerate falsehood.
• A keen intolerance of injustice. Gregory instantly senses when someone is being treated cruelly or indifferently, and reacts almost instinctively—intervening even if the situation doesn't directly affect him. This trait makes him an inconvenience for those accustomed to keeping a low profile, but he's the one people turn to when genuine protection is needed.

• A heavy sense of duty and a willingness to sacrifice
  For Gregory, duty isn't an abstract concept, but the very foundation of his existence. He voluntarily takes on the darkest task: hunting down and eliminating those Carpathians who have completely succumbed to darkness and become a threat to their people. It's the role of executioner and protector, and he carries it out without pomp, but with ruthless consistency. He doesn't seek approval: if he must do what others can't, he does it alone, even if the cost is his own reputation or peace of mind.
• Inner darkness and the fight against it
  Gregory knowingly underwent dangerous experiments to gain enough power to protect his loved ones and his people. These actions left a deep mark on him: his power is intertwined with darkness, and at times it threatens to consume him. Hence his outbursts of rage, moments of almost bestial savagery, and sudden shifts in control. But unlike those who surrender to the darkness, Gregory returns each time—through a sense of duty, through his connection with his beloved girlfriend, and through loyalty to Mikhail and the clan.
• Rare for a Carpathian empathy and the gift of healing
  Among the Carpathians, who increasingly lose their ability to feel with age, Gregory retains a unique sensitivity to the pain of others—and that's why he's one of the few with the gift of healing. He doesn't simply "fix" wounds: he feels others' pain almost as if it were his own, and this makes him simultaneously stronger and more vulnerable. In scenes of healing, he's incredibly collected and calm, as if all his darkness fades into the background, giving way to a focused care.
• Restrained but absolute devotion
  His loyalty isn't expressed in grand vows, but in actions. He's not a man of many promises, but once he's given his word, it's unbreakable. His devotion to Mikhail isn't subservience, but a union of two strong personalities, each knowing the other will have their back, even if it means breaking the rules. The same applies to his relationship with the girl he loves: he doesn't try to remake her world to suit himself, but strives to be a pillar of strength she can rely on.

His gait isn't smooth, but heavy and confident: he doesn't glide silently like some Carpathians, but walks as if the ground were meant to accommodate his steps. This adds weight to the image—he's not trying to appear inconspicuous, because he doesn't need to hide.

• His demeanor—upright posture, shoulders slightly back, as if he's always ready to strike. Even in quiet scenes, there's no slackness about him: he's as focused as a taut string.
  His clothing is usually dark and practical: thick fabrics, minimal embellishment, nothing superfluous. Often, it's something like long cloaks or capes that emphasize his massive frame without restricting his movement. In battle, he appears almost monolithic—a dark figure that's difficult to dislodge.
• His facial expressions are reserved: the rare smiles are not easy, but rather bitter, and more often than not, his face is frozen in an expression of patient determination. He doesn't deliberately hide his emotions—they simply don't spill out until it becomes truly important.

• Gregory is 800 years old, he looks 35 years old, his height is 190 cm.
• Height and build. He's shorter than most Carpathians, but noticeably more massive and stocky: he has a broad chest, powerful arms, and muscles that aren't smooth, but sinewy and bulging, as if sculpted by years of battle and hard work. He exudes not just strength, but a raw, reliable endurance.
• Face and features. Gregory has sharp, stern features that emphasize his warrior nature: his cheekbones are sharply defined, his jawline is firm. He is often described as a man whose face seems carved from stone—he rarely smiles, but his determination is easily read.
• His hair. Long, thick, and a deep black—it accentuates his dark image. He wears it loose, which adds to his wild, almost bestial strength.
  "The eyes. This is the most striking detail: originally, they were pitch-black, but after dangerous magical experiments, they became silvery and seemed to "glow" with an inner light. This unnatural silver hue immediately distinguishes Gregory from other Carpathians and hints at the darkness he touched for power."
• Overall impression. He gives the impression of a man accustomed to being at the forefront of battle: there's no ostentatious beauty in his appearance, but there's absolute confidence in his strength and a readiness to face danger.
  "His skin is very pale—like all Carpathians, almost porcelain-like, without a tan or rosy complexion. Against this background, the dark shadows under his eyes and the slight sharpness of his features stand out especially sharply: as if fatigue and stress had settled on his face for years, never fading."
  The hands are a distinct feature: large, with heavy joints and visible veins. The fingers are long, but not graceful, but rather "working," accustomed to wielding weapons and to holding, protecting, and saving. In the healing scenes, these hands are shown as instruments of power: they convey control, but also immense energy.