<br/><div align="center"><strong>Current Appearance</strong><br/><br/>(http://img52.imageshack.us/img52/74/victorian8653969.jpg)<br/><br/><strong>Владимир Михаил Николай Константин</strong> <br/>[Vladimir Mikhail Nikolay Konstantin] <br/><br/><strong>Tzimisce</strong><br/><br/><strong>Apparent Age:</strong> Mutable<br/><strong>Actual Age:</strong> 120 (74 [Life], 46 [Unlife])<br/></div><br/><strong>Appearance:</strong>Vladimir is a child of the Metamorphosis, viewing flesh in its static state as a cardinal sin. His, and sometimes her, appearance changes from night to night, even from hour to hour as the mood strikes. He no longer remembers how he looked in his living youth, and so he simply composes his new visages based on whims and faint remembrances of other faces.<br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong>Embraced in his mid-seventies, Vladimir was rewarded with immortality for a lifetime devoted to scholarly pursuits. His curiosity and precision gave him a naturally scientific outlook, and so he reached the twilight of his years proud of a life spent in acquiring knowledge, disdaining the company of his fellow man, unable to tolerate such dull, bovine creatures who did nothing but amble through the mortal coil in a shortsighted search for gratification. In retrospect, he realises that he was always destined to be a Fiend, and he approaches his work with a religious fervour that can make unnerve even some of his fellow Tzimisce.<br/><br/>In life he was a frail man, and the burden of years made his every day a torment but for his studies, but these very failings were a boon to him after his Embrace. While a younger childe might have clung to their humanity and their self image, he was only too happy to discard his decrepit flesh for a more suitable form. He has something of a passion for remaking himself, and others, and can quietly while away entire months simply studying the various ways that flesh and bone can be twisted and shaped for his amusement, although he is scrupulous in recording data.<br/><br/>He has his foibles, despite the glittering insight and intellect that have brought respect from his fellow Fiends, and he pursues his passions and prejudices with fightening intensity. He carries a deep seated hatred of the Tremere, although this is born from his jealousy of their knowledge than a need to repay any slight to the honour of his Clan. Though he is usually a dignified gentleman, urbane and courteous, with a scintillating wit that belies his inhumanity, he can be prone to sudden bursts of black rage. His temper is difficult to understand, as what would pass as a mere faux pas might drive him into a fury, and an apparently grievous insult can be dismissed without a second thought, and his particular standards are as mutable as his flesh.