The Hunter

Night, thy low mocking groan
Trembles in the trenches
And the trenches seem to bleed
And blood is the dark hair of the night
And I comb it in my pretty fingers
For I am the Hunter who Hunts humanity.

-Death, Damon Kelly

This is the website of David Talbot. It is being published online as a corollary to the stories: true and false, which are being told about me in various places. After all, I've been drifting a bit since I resigned as Superior General of the Talamasca.

Lestat does a good job of telling my story in his novel The Tale of the Body Thief, but as Lestat could not know everything, for I did not tell him everything, there are parts which may make no sense whatsoever to you. I will attempt to aid you in understanding with a few stories... but not just yet. Oh, I can tell you some horror stories about Lestat, but can't we all?

Oh, dear. I was not going to mention my sometimes-irritating Maker on this site at all, was I, until he put something of myself up on his own? Oh, well. I have better things to do than be petty about Lestat. Speaking of whom, I might as well put up my own tribute to the man, as well as, of course, the various reasons why he is not in charge of our little coven. (That'll get him back).

Also, I may as well tell some stories of my conversations with Louis de Point du Lac, and a tribute to him as well- he's really the only thing that's actually calmed me down about this illogical existence.

Lastly, so many people have asked me for a photograph lately I am absolutely shocked. It seems none of them quite understood what exactly my new body looked like after Lestat made it immortal. Well, of course I absolutely refuse to give any of you a picture. There is such a thing as privacy, after all. But to keep you all happy- I am currently about 6'3, and I haven't weighed myself but I have a nice physique, rather thin, as Lestat noted. My skin was dark-toned to begin with and got positively bronze in Brazil, so it is a light gold colour right now. Looks a bit odd under electric lights. My eyes are a very dark gold, with a rim of hazelnut brown, and they look more like the eyes of a tiger than the eyes of a man- perhaps a reflection on my personality? I don't know. My hair is about a half-inch past my shoulders, thick, of a very dark brown with golden streaks from the Brazilian sun.

What I said about the tiger eyes reminds of something else I want said, something I want said where no one can dispute it- I was never less than a hunter. I always hunted the danger, the most dangerous thing I could find. Perhaps there was a lack of something definite in me, growing up in the British Army during World War II. But, whatever may be said, I am a predator. I am powerful beyond imagining, now. I even shock Lestat sometimes. I hunt in the shadows, and though I am never cruel, you will never see me coming. If Lestat was the tiger in his dream,