Nidial is ancient; a vampire of years beyond counting. His skin clings to his body like a mummy, tightened around hardened cords of muscle, on a broad and tall frame. Nidial rarely, if ever, wears clothing. If he does, a simple loin cloth is the most decoration he'll ascribe to it. He moves in the shadows and is steeped in the mystical arts of Cruac, in which he's a sage without peer. Some say he may even be, or have been, Rex Nemorenses or "King of the Grove". An old god in undead flesh. Those who meet him or spend time in his presence don't find the notion hard to believe.

The elder Nosferatu leads his fellows in these dark nights with a paternal touch. He delegates most of the night-to-night to the Whips but takes any large scale insult to his Clan personally. Nidial has visited offenders of this before. The last one isn't expected to emerge from torpor any time soon.

Nidial is apolitical, which rubs abrasively against some of the younger Acolyte's ambitions, but was one of the former Prince's Primogen before the latter's overthrow by Tobias Van Dorn. The Hierophant still serves as a Prince of Section D and thus as a member of the city's High Primogen by token. This office was a formality; Nidial was too entrenched to be removed and the Nosferatu are fanatically loyal to him. Absent a Clan war, like the pillars which support the city, Nidial is a fixture who isn't going anywhere.

His Beast is close to the surface. If Nidial ever becomes draugr, it'll be a city-wide catastrophe. Some (mostly Sanctified) have whispered it may be better to remove him now before that can happen or at least encourage him to sleep. Who would dare do so remains unknown and so Nidial remains viewed as a ticking bomb.