Born to a single Irish mother and an unknown Turkish father, Ian Donnaghan was born in a town along the southern English coastline. His early life was, by all means, far from rich, but it was as comfortable as his mother made it for him. Naturally, he worked hard in school. determined to elevate himself through his service to others. Drawing deep from the well of his love for human anatomy, his path took him to pursue the sciences and then university; it was then that his road led him through medical school, where he'd choose the role of a physician. All of this would finally culminate in a job offer from the USA, in the state of Oregon in the year 2009. Here, he would have the time of his life..and would eventually see the end of it, at least as a normal man.

Those moments would pave the way for Ian's fate; the wheel of the year would turn to February, 2010 as the trials around Draculin yielded deadly fruits. One of the test subjects had ended up on the newly-minted doctor's ward suffering from symptoms of a strange new disease involving intense pain and cravings. Unfortunately for Ian, he would be assigned this new patient, who he would realise 85 years later, was in the final stages of Vampiric transformation. As he was just about about to insert a line into the patient's arm, the man leaped for him and sunk his newly-grown fangs into his carer's shoulder. Yelling in pain, Ian would kick his patient in the groin; crippled for a few seconds, the beast would try to make another go of him until the security officers in the department managed to immobilise him with their tasers. Naturally, Ian would be compelled to wash out his own wound, since common sense dictated that disinfecting a human bite wound was paramount. However, he found that he had to keep on changing the bandages; the bleeding just seemed to continue. As such, his bosses ordered him to take the week off so as to recover from his physical and psychological injuries.

However, in that week, the virus would begin to do its monstrous work; as the end of that off-time drew near, Ian had no choice but to call in sick as the symptoms began to express themselves. First came the pain...and then the cravings. Frantically, he messily scoured his fridge for anything to satisfy this craving, until he happened across a piece of uncooked steak that still dripped with blood. Feeling instinct take over, he seized the container and drank the copious amounts of red fluid; it tasted foul, yet felt so profanely good. Immediately, he would scarf down the steak, almost choking on it and making himself even more sick in the process. The next couple of weeks would pass by as the unfortunate Briton underwent the changes wrought upon his body by the virus. Crippled by the pain and the shivers, he could only lie on his bedroom floor, listening closely as the world around him descended into chaos. The hunger within began to consume his conscious thoughts slowly but surely; until one day, the last thing he would remember before he fully lost himself would be the sound of his apartment door being caved in with an axe and a snarl upon his lips.

Those years Ian spent as nothing more than an animal would be nought more than a crimson-shrouded fog, with only glimmers of the things he had done peaking through in nightmares and spontaneous flashbacks. Yet in those last days, a light would slowly pierce through; slowly but surely, the man, who had been buried for so very long, began to emerge from the darkness. Eventually, one day. his eyes opened; it would be Ian who once more looked through them, blearily looking around as though he had been asleep. Rising, he would do so in the middle of a forest, his clothes ragged and, strangely, a broken chain around his neck. He was also pretty filthy by all accounts. He would wander for a time, desperate to find some semblance of civilisation; the last thing he remembered were the sounds of the world going to hell as he lay in the grips of his agony.

Eventually, he would happen across a house by an old, worn road. He would enter, only to find an old newspaper that spoke of the world ending to a Vampiric apocalypse. As his eyes continued to scan the article, his eyes widened as he took in the symptoms section...they all matched what he went through in his last memories. That's when it occured to him that he was one such Infected. But how? He wondered with astonishment; by all accounts, those who've succumbed to the pestilence are nought but animals...but here he was, thinking all too clearly. Suddenly, he found himself struck by the first of his flashbacks; through a red film, he watched as his hands held a woman down, and his fangs pierced deep into her neck. When he finally snapped back to the here and now, Ian felt the guilt of his actions sear deeply into his heart. He fell to his knees, clasping his chest as he did so and gasped for air as hot tears poured down his face. When the Infected finally did regain his composure, he made himself walk up the stairs...he had to look in the mirror, to confront the thing he had become. He would find it, and in that eerily clear surface, he would see his own face; his hair and beard now long and matted in equal measure and partially slick with still-wet gore. However, another flashback would occur, and he would find himself staring in another mirror, this time with bloodied teeth bared and eyes nearly as black as the void due to pupil dilation. Breaking free from the buried memory, he once more focused on the mirror right before him; to his shock, his eyes were as red as the blood he needed to survive. As he calmed down, those eyes once more went back to the green he had been born with. Looking around, he would find a shaving razor...one of the old-fashioned ones that he had associated with serial killers in the past. As such, the Vampire contemplated ending it in that moment...but chose not to, instead opting to cut his dreadlocks and beard. He had shaved himself completely bald, since it could not be salvaged from all of those knots, but was able to maintan the beard.

The next two years would be spent wandering the land that he had been practically absent from for a long time; he would learn from a few drifter diaries, often still soaked in blood, that 77 years had passed. He would naturally be shocked...he certainly didn't feel that old...in fact he, at least physically, felt better than ever. Those years were spent hunting animals to sate his thirst; he dared not feed on other Infected, for fear that he might trigger another mutation from such an act...one that could make him lose himself again. All that time alone made Ian wonder as to whether or not he'd actually see another thinking and talking being. In time, he would get what he wished for...and a chance to prove to himself his humanity. His potent hearing would pick up on the sound of calls for help, and the all-too familiar sound of a Feral on the hunt. Immediately, he would be pushed to intervene, making all due haste to the source of the sounds. Eventually, he would happen across an old cabin, and the Feral that was trying to crash through its rotting walls. Silently, he approached it, waiting for it to turn its back...until eventually, he would give a whistle; the fiend turned, and it would be answered with the sound of full barrel discharge of Ian's sawed-off. With its brains scattered across the wall, he would find himself being jumped by a young woman tearfully thanking him.

After tending to her wounds with his medical skills, which he had not fully-used for far too long, and after determining that she wasn't infected, he allowed her to lead her back to her encampment. Nancy, what she called herself, introduced him to her people. They identified themselves as being part of an organisation called Eclipse, and their particular branch was known as Solar Eclipse. They in turn asked who the Vampire was, and for the first time in a long tme, his true name came from his lips and gave a false story. Based on what he had learned of how the world had changed, he stated he was born on an old cruise ship that wandered the world. He was apprenticed to the ship's doctor, who had been practicing his trade back before the world went to hell. However some of their crew got infected on a supply run...as the ship was scuttled, he found himself washed on the Eastern Coast of the former United States; he had been wandering ever since. Upon hearing this story, the Solar Eclipse expedition offered to take him back to their chief settlement known as Junkyard; to his surprise, it was not a euphemism...it was an honest to God junkyard.

The Wheel of the Year would turn seven more times, and Ian would walk within both of the Eclipse's branches; both would benefit from his much-sought after talents, whether as a field medic or determining whether or not a person they are smuggling is healthy enough to survive a journey. He in turn would learn much from Solar and Lunar Eclipse, learning that, as well as what he could do as one of the Infected, there was much he could do as a human. Eventually, a time would come when his predecessor Treasurer would be caught trying to fix the books for a bigger cut; suffice to say, he was punished severely, to the point where he no longer had the position. After that, the Boss began to look for a new Treasurer, someone who could do the job and wasn't going to rip off Eclipse. A good number of them did not want the job, too much pencil-pushing for their liking. Eventually, there would be whispers in the shadows of Eclipse, whispers that wanted Ian to take the job. Naturally, the Vampire doctor began to consider it; he would eventually go before the Boss and throw his hat in the ring, citing his experience as both a Sun and a Moon, his training to understand resources and his, purely jockular, impeccable bedside manner. A week later, Ian would be announced as Eclipse's new Treasurer. His two years on the job would be found remarkable through his hands-on approach, even risking his neck to go on jobs with both arms of Eclipse so as to maintain and enhance his understanding the jobs they do and see for himself any new challenges to face. It also still gave him the chance to still physically contribute to the organisation that took him in as well, to remind everyone else that he was still one of them...to also remind himself. Of course, he still had his medical duties; it was through them that he also found his most reliable means of feeding. After all, the doctor's path came with much spilled blood and none of it required a even a nibble.

In terms of appearance, Ian is quite a handsome man; with short brown hair, vibrant green eyes and a neatly groomed beard, he does indeed cut quite the roguish figure. At 6ft in height, he has a lean but well-built physique that barely hints at the raw physical power that he truly is capable of. When in the grip of extreme emotion or hunger, his eyes become as red as blood...this is something he takes great pains to control. More often then not, he always seems to dress in as many layers of dark clothing he can manage; while most would assume it serves the purpose of making him harder to notice, it is really to conceal whenever he is injured; the better to ensure that no one notices his potent healing abilities.

In terms of sexuality, he officially considers himself Bisexual, with an even preference for both genders...he's somewhat afraid to form a long-term relationship, out of both anxiety for his longevity and fear that he might go back to being a husk of a man.

In terms of language, Ian speaks English as his native tongue, but is also fluent in Turkish and Spanish. He learned Turkish on the hopes that, one day, he would meet the father he never knew...whereas Spanish was a more logical choice for his employment in the old USA.

Due to his hands-on approach to being Eclipse's Treasurer, this gives him opportunities to interact with other characters outside of his faction. He also has yet to meet any other Infected like him; it would be consdered a welcome opportunity on his part, since it would both mean he isn't the only one of his kind out there and that there is hope for the Infected after all.