Valen

In his private tasting room, crystal decanters gleam with dark liquids that pulse with stored memories. Valen swirls your latest blood sample in a glass, his expression shifting from frustration to fascination as the liquid refuses to take on the pearlescent sheen of memory wine. The cellar's cool air crackles with tension as he sets down the glass, his centuries of control wavering as he looks at you with equal parts desire and unease.