Red Lance Warrior

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^{Searching in the darkness, running from the day} _{Hiding from tomorrow, nothing left to say}

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Name: Red Lance Warrior

Nickname: Red, Lance
Gender: male 
Birthdate: Winter of Many Died of the Cramps (Cholera) Probably December 31st, 1849
Orientation: Straight
Grade: Never went to school
Age:173
Species: Vampire
Ability: Horse Whisperer

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^{Victims of the moment, future deep in doubt} _{Living in a whisper until we start to shout}

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Love it?

Hate it?

Strengths and Weaknesses?

Fears?!

• Never finding out what happened to my Allora.
  
• Losing my way.
  
• Give into bloodlust.

Full Personality:

I used to be one of those bragging braves showing off for the girls. Till I found the one for me, and I settled down gaining maturity.  Now I'm a brooding indian, pining for what was lost. Hoping and praying that one day I will find my peace again.

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Celebrity Play-By: Martin Sensmeier
Eyes: Brooding brown eyes
Skin: tanned 
Hair: long jet black hair that I usually braid in two long braids
Scars/Marking: a few scars
Build:  muscular

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^{Searching for an answer, keep your alibis}_{Don't know where we're goin', just know where we've been}

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Mother:Prairie Feather 
Father:Running Eagle
Siblings:Two brothers never knew
Other:Wife: Allora White Feather Larson, Son: Running Buck (deceased) Grandmother
History:

I was born in the Winter of Many died of the Cramps. Cramps which was Cholera. I believe I was born on December 31st, 1949. There is not actual record though just what my father told me.  My mother came down with Cholera shortly after my birth and perished along with two older brothers I never knew.  My father raised me til he was killed in a raid when I was around six.  After that I was pretty much raised by the tribe and my grandmother.

I loved horses since I was crawling. My grandmother says I about gave her a heart attack when she lost sight of me as a baby, and found me crawling back and forth underneath a wild stallion squealing with delight. I've never had a fear of horses. I was riding long before most of my Kowa brothers. Training the wild horses for the tribe as well. I became a warrior by the time I was fourteen. Raising up in the ranks fast. I was a daredevil on horse. 

There were 12 deeds that qualified as war honors. These deeds ranged from stealing an enemy’s horse to charging at an enemy leader in battle. The highest honor was to touch, but not kill, an enemy warrior. Each man had to complete a minimum of four deeds to be considered a warrior. I laughed at four deeds and got all twelve within two battles. The highest and most honored warrior society was the Koitsenko. Only the 10 most honored warriors were admitted to this society. They wore red sashes and carried sacred spears into battle. A Koitsenko anchored one end of his red sash to the ground and fought from that position until another warrior allowed him to yield his ground. If one was at risk of being killed, the other commanded him to advance. The command actually permitted him to retreat. One rule of the Koitsenko was to do the opposite of what was commanded. I was to be admitted to this society, but a beautiful girl turned my head instead.  

Her name was Allora White Feather Larson.  I had a decision to make then become a Koitsenko which would almost be a dishonor to my people to not accept or just be a "Tsain-tanmo", or "Horse Headdresses," were comprised of five warrior societies; the Wild Horse, the Black Horse, the White Horse, the Buckskin Horse and the Wise Horse Society which usually indicated men who were considered strong in the ways of the Wise Horse or physically and mentally mature. I was a Wild Horse, but quickly became a Wise Horse. My true calling was with them and I chose them. My tribe came to accept it with how I was with horses.  

I started to court Allora after I made my decision.  Finally the day came that Allora turned fifteen. I offered her father Timothy Larson two horses and a rabbit I had killed that morning to marry her.  We were married and soon our son Running Buck was born. He was the finest son you could as for.  Tragedy struck though two years later. White horse soldiers attacked our village. I was shot and left for dead. When I came to a man was bending over me.  He wasn't really a man, but a hybrid. Half vampire/Half werewolf.  He gave me a choice of being changed or to die.  I turned my head and about ten feet away lay my son. Running Buck's eyes were wide open with no life within them. I let out a mournful cry, and looked around for my beloved Allora. She was not there. I nodded for him to change me. I had my son's death to avenge and to find my beloved.

My savior's name was Klaus Mikaelson.  He was a good man. He taught me over a short time how to live. He was there when I buried my son and other's of my tribe that died that day.  From time to time I cross paths with Klaus and enjoy his company for awhile before we both depart again for the unknown.  I have roamed the countryside for over a hundred years now. Been coast to coast and to almost all of the states.  I've seen the wide open country become states. Fences built. Empires built and destroyed. 

One thing I never cared for was those contraptions called cars.  I stayed with my ever trusted steed only replacing him or her when they couldn't go on anymore.  I live in a teepee that has seen hundreds of repairs. I travel with my travois carrying what little belongings I have left.  My most prized possession is a tintype picture of my beloved Allora and I with our son Running Buck. It was taken only days before the attack. I'll always cherish it for it's all I have left to remind me of when I was truly at peace. I take a job here and there as a wrangler at a ranch for awhile. Since I really can't tell no one how old I truly am or what I am. I get paid in cash for a few times before it becomes a hassle to the employer or they run out of horses for me to train. I move on to the next stop then. A white light appeared out of no where last night though, and it beckoned me to follow it. I was already heading in that direction after seeing a job ad. It's in a town called Dark Haven. The man by the name of Jayden Garard is looking for someone to take care of his horses. 

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^{Remember when the clock strikes twelve, the losers always win}

_{We're creatures of the night, we're creatures of the night, hey}

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RP Sample:

Doesn't need to be from this site but has to be longer than the limit

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^{Searching in the darkness, running from the day} _{Hiding from tomorrow, nothing left to say}

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Username: Angie
Cbox/What we will call you by: Angie
How long have you RP'd:a long time
Comments:
How did you find us: Made the site with Cindie
Any other characters: oh yeah