the life of fang geming has always been one with a great deal of drama. he was not your perfect gifted kid, nor even a washed up gifted kid. when very young, fang was left in the care of a church run orphanage. he was a disppointment to his guardian angel, for sure. he'd fight with the other children - the bigger ones, the smaller ones. human or not, he'd take anyone who challenged him on. a burden by his own right, fang was eight when he made his first grand escape. nobody wanted to be his parent - and he didn't want parenting. he was dragged back. three times. kicking and shouting at the police. it got his place of residence in a lot of trouble, and fang wasn't popular, even with the kind old ladies. 

one day, when a group of travelling actors came to visit, he fell in love. not actually, of course, he was twelve. but he found his calling. he insisted that he was going to go and join them - and he was in luck. a young couple who'd lost their son in childbirth had always wanted to adopt. fang was hesitant - there were always the rumours that nobody loved the older kids. they only loved the cute little babies. but fang's new parents showed him nought but kindness. hell, he even stopped picking fights for a time. until he started drinking, obviously. he was seventeen, and had that idiot teenager brain that just wanted to be lazy, wasted and washed up. he'd turn up at four in the morning and pass out in bed until six pm the next day. it wasn't healthy, nor was it good behaviour when he wanted an act of his own. he'd been working for it for years, a knife thrower's assistant. he still has a nick in his ear from a drunk practice session.

the fights started up again. just as most people assumed they would. the disaproving glares didn't go away, even on the best days, when he hadn't scraped anyone the previous night. the out of hand teen was called up to the person in charge. it only fueled his anger. he hadn't even started the fight. fang had had enough of the circus. taking only his jacket, the eighteen year old stormed off. he didn't look back. he wanted to see where his feet would take him. would they save him, from his pit of self destruction? No, but it helped him understand the cause. he was a human. a stupid, unremarkable human. he had nothing good to his name, in a world where he'd grown up believeing the beautiful talents of creatures were what made the world go round. 

in his hurry to leave, and his pride to stay independant, fang burnt out his precious little money within a month or two. his biggest regret in life was not hugging his mother before he left. mortem stopped him dying out in the cold. as much as he hated it. a jacket and a bottle weren't going to help the young man support himself. he thought there would be an easy way out. he was offered shelter and money, in exchange for work. it was a good deal, one he needed. fang shook the outstretched hand, and his soul was sold to the devil. there was no escaping when he was in. 

he's made friends there, but sacrificed part of his humanity. the thrill that comes from having power over another creature was never enough to take the sick joy that the others were programmed to have in killing. determined to leave one day, fang drowns his worries in smoking rather than alcohol, and has developed a strong distaste for the liquid.