This RP has moved to a new location. Find us at Vampire; the Masquerade - Bloodlines, and please don't hesitate to join!
New players are always welcome.
This is a continuation of the Vampire the Masquerade roleplay. All events that took place in that thread are still a part of the story. Nothing in the story has changed.
The reason why there is a new thread, is because the previous game host, devoshka, has been missing in action for the past couple of months, and I, as the co-host, decided that a good roleplay needs to be kept updated. That includes rules, character list, etc, and the only way for me to achieve this, was by starting a new thread.
We'd also like to think of it as a chance for more people to become interested.
New players are always welcome, so please do not be intimidated by the fact that the story has already come a long way. You'll find a brief synopsis of the events below, as well as a list of where the other characters are currently at, thus making it easier for new participants to join.
New players are also more than welcome to approach one of the currents players to form some kind of relationship with their characters, as a way of easily finding a way into the story; you could be someone's childe, Sire, ghoul, boyfriend, girlfriend, lover, niece, etc etc. The possibilities are endless.
If any of the current players have grown bored of their character and wants to replace him/her, it is quite alright to do so. All I ask is that you give it some serious thought before you do, and don't replace your character every other week. This is only meant to serve as a way to refresh creativity, when a player feels he/she has taken their character as far as they can go, and no longer feel they have anything left to do with them.
Last but not least;
Current players - Feel free to re-submit your character applications in this thread, if you want. If you don't, I'll simply link back to the one in the previous thread, and that will be fine too, at least until the old thread is archived.
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Welcome to Los Angeles, home of the Camarilla made up of 7 clans of Vampires and is the largest organization of vampires.
They consist of:
Camarilla policy is that vampires should try to fit in with and hide from the rest of humanity, as to easily feed on them. For this reason, they created a web of lies and misinformation, called the Masquerade, to make the public believe that supernatural beings like vampires could not possibly exist.
The Camarilla also believes that the only way the vampire species can survive in these modern nights is if it unites - any breach of the Masquerade by any vampire risks exposing the entire race. Any vampire that breaks the Masquerade will have to clean up the mess or face severe punishment.
The Camarilla consider it their duty to protect humans and NEVER advocate killing to feed.
Each larger city has a vampire Prince; a leader that sees to it that the vampires there abide by Camarilla law. If planning to go to war with another clan, or to simply Embrace a human, you’ll need the Prince’s permission to do so.
While the Prince acts as a leader of all Kindred within a city, each larger clan within said city have their own leader, called a Primogen, acting right below the Prince. All clan Primogen are part of the Prince's council of advisors.
This brings us to what actually kills a vampire;
Sunlight, fire, decapitation, being completely drained of blood.
Staking isn’t lethal to a vampire, but it will temporarily stun them.
Holy water will burn their skin, but it won’t kill them (unless, of course, they go swimming in it).
A more extensive list of vampire characteristics, as well as a Vampire the Masquerade glossary, will be found below.
I have also created a webpage for even more extensive info, for those of you who are interested in learning more. It is, however, not required that you learn all these things;
Vampire; the Masquerade - a Bloodlines roleplay
* Forum rules are to be respected and obeyed.
* No spamming (meaning double posting or unnecessary ooc posts).
* No powerplaying/godmodding. Try to respect each other and each other's characters.
* No killing another without having permission from the other, even if it means planning the scene in PMs.
* When in doubt of putting another person into a certain situation, PM them first!
* An RP post should be 8 lines minimum. This limit does not include quoted lines from a post you are replying to. While this RP is for fun, it is for roleplayers who take it somewhat seriously.
The occasional exception is, of course, allowed, as long as it doesn't turn into continually posting less than 8 lines.
* If you for some reason have/choose to drop out, please finish up, by either RPing an end for your character, or at least telling us that you will be dropping out. Don't leave people hanging.
* When you are RPing with someone, give them at least 24 hours to reply. However, should more than 24 hours pass without the other person responding, you are free to move on.
* When making an RP post, please include the name of your character in the header, and preferrably where they are at and what other character they are with as well. This makes it easier for people to keep up who is where, and with whom.
* Foul language is allowed, but please do tone it down a bit; F***, b****, ***hole etc will get your point across just fine.
* Everyone is allowed three characters, BUT, third character has to serve a purpose by somehow adding to the plot, and be approved by me. Thus, if you have a third character planned, PM me with their info first.
* Character pictures do not have to be of a sim.
* If you are unsure of something, ask. Either in the thread, or in PM.
* Have fun!
1. What clan you belong to:
(based on these:
-Neonate(s): Just Embraced vampires. They keep this name until they're about 100-200 years old.
-Ancilla(e): Vampires between cca 200 and 350, 400 years.
-Elder(s): Vampires over 400 years.
-Methuselah(s): These are very rare. Vampires over a thousand years old.)
4. Disciplines: (which you have and what level (rules and descriptions are in following post))
5. Short bio:
Currently there is no limit on the amount of characters in each clan, but should one clan start overflowing, I will limit the number of slots on that particular clan. After all, having 20 Ventrues running around might be a touch much.
3. Willingness to be a ghoul, or embraced (if so, by what clan):
5. Short bio:
Currently there is no limit on the amount of human characters.
1. Marvin Grey - Brujah
2. Ché Santiago Vargas da Silva - summerkelsa
1. Seraphina Christou - Alissa888 --- PRIMOGEN
2. Melissa Harper - WannabeSith
1. John 'Fitz' Fitzroy - WannabeSith
1. Valerian - Atropa
2. Moira Sushill - Ghanima Atreides
3. Vevila van Roemer - trampledsneakers
4. Alfmundr Sorenson - WannabeSith
1. Adrien de la Cour - Atropa
(Damian Alexander (III) - Atropa --- THE PRINCE (see post 4) )
1. Archon DeWinter - Psyche --- PRIMOGEN
2. Claudia - Alissa888
1. Noah - Psyche
Humans (image coming later )
1. Aeode Mallard - Ghanima Atreides
2. Lena Sayliss - Alissa888
3. Connor Hale - Atropa
4. Alric Kasimir Reinard - trampledsneakers
5. Melody Hart - Ghanima Atreides
6. Katherine 'Kat' Bradley - Black Sheep
7. Darin Kolmar - vocman3
8. Mieke Uehara-Khun - summerkelsa
9. Lola Dmitriev - robokitty
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SYNOPSIS AND WHEREABOUTS:
* A few RP nights ago, the Prince called a blood hunt on a Malkavian named Milo, due to him breaking the Masquerade by feeding in public. Milo was hunted down and killed by a Brujah NPC the following night.
* Also a few RP nights ago, Ada von Vita of the Tremere and Beyonca of the Ventrue were banned from the club The Haven, after Ada came dangerously close to breaking the Masquerade by (accidently) using her superhuman strength when shoving a human girl, sending her pretty much flying into a fountain. Beyonca approached to help her sort it out, but they were both asked by Valerian to leave, and let him take care of it. Ada refused, which resulted in an argument that cost both her and Beyonca access to the Haven.
Ada was confronted by her Primogen, Mina Coles, and sent away from L.A. to learn the proper ways and behaviour of the Tremere.
Now, however, she is back and have sorted things out with Valerian, thus she is welcome at The Haven once again, as is Beyonca, who settled things with Valerian the night after the incident.
* Two RP nights ago (from where we are now, night #8) there was a Ball organized by the Prince to welcome the Ventrue Primogen Archon DeWinter back to Los Angeles, after having spent a couple of months travelling.
Along with most Los Angeles Kindred, this Ball was also attended by Moira Sushill, a visiting Toreador Primogen from London. Though so far, I believe there are one three people aware of who she is; The Prince, Archon, and Valerian. (let me know if I missed someone).
* Also attending this ball was Adrien de la Cour; a notorious (former) vampire hunter that used to pose as a Tremere, until his cover was blown in Los Angeles about a century ago, when he was just about to slay Mina Coles. Since then he's been operating from the shadows, until three years ago, when he was Embraced by the San Fransisco Tremere. This, however, has been a well guarded secret until his appearance at the Ball. Now rumour of his embrace and presence in Los Angeles is spreading like wildfire among the L.A. Kindred, and no one is quite sure what to expect.
* Eight years ago, a young mortal woman - Aeode Mallard - was saved from dying by the current Toreador Primogen of Los Angeles, Jessica, who fed her some of her blood to heal her. Aeode doesn't remember much of the incident, but has been searching for the people that tried to kill her, and for her mysterious saviour. She has just recently found out from Andre of the Ventrue that the woman's name is Jessica, and has just happened to cross paths with Jessica at the Haven.
Alleyway: Adrien and Lena
Outside The Haven: Aeode, Noah and Valerian
The Haven, Valerian's quarters: Valerian and Claudia
The Haven, bar: Alfmundr, Aliana
Club Envy: Connor, Moira, Melissa, Melody, Kat, Marvin
Vevila's apartment: Archon and Vevila
Seraphina's mansion: Seraphina and Fitzroy
If you have any questions please feel free to PM me.
This is a roleplay inspired and freely adapted from the game 'Vampire The Masquerade - Bloodlines'. 'Vampire the Masquerade' is a registered trademark.
Vampire; the Masquerade - a Bloodlines roleplay
You do not need to know this game in order to participate in this roleplay. It simply serves as a basis and idea, that's all.
*information compiled from several different sources*
Thanks to Ghanima Atreides, Psyche, veldagia and PennyTheCorgi for all their input and suggestions on how to improve this RP. You've all been a big help.
Here you'll find description of the characteristics of each clan, along with a small idea of what a vampire from a certain clan COULD look like. Though it's all your interpretation. For more extensive info, and pictures, please visit the website.
The Brujah can trace their roots back to ancient Babylon, and the clay tablets of the first scholars. They were the lovers and guardians of knowledge, and the founder of their line was the inventor of written language. However, in their quest for freedom, they slew their founder and were banished from the first city. Today, the Brujah are scorned as riffraff who have lost their heritage and are without pride. For over a millennium they have been rebels among the Kindred, forever questioning and testing the Traditions. are the brutish, overly physical clan. They believe that might makes right, and have little patience for those that choose not to act. They are seen as anarchistic rabble by the Camarilla. The rest of the vampire community rarely cooperates with them, since they always seem to counter existing authorities. This clan chiefly depends on their body and physical strengths, using blood to enhance their movement and combat abilities.
The clan is very poorly organised; its members meet only irregularly, and share little in common besides their love of rebellion. They are among the supports of the anarchs, and aiding them is one of the only matters upon which they ever agree. They are often underestimated, as much by themselves as anyone.
Appearance: Think punk, or bike riders. Tatty, worn clothes, leather, jeans, anything that screams "I'm a rebel and don't give a ****". Usually with an attitude to match.
Clan Gangrel is said to be the only clan whose founder is still involved in and concerned with the welfare of her progeny. Her concern for them is matched only by her concern for mortal descendants - the Gypsies. Though many Antediluvians use their progeny as pawns in the Jyhad, the Gangrel pride themselves on their freedom from such manipulation. There is a close bond between the clan and the Gypsies. In recent years, as Gehenna approaches, their interaction has been considerable.
Born in the wild, this is a rather interesting sample of vampire species. More feral than other clans, they exist on the fringe of civilization. Since they have such a deep connection with nature, they are able to communicate with some types of animals. As they enhance their special animal-like abilities they become less and less... err... friendly.
Appearance: Well, they're the wildest of all clans. Most of them don't have a residence at all, they like to roam forests and pastures and sleep in the earth. They'd almost always be dirty, with matted hair, ripped clothes, feral. They're also the clan closest to the Beast (the predator in each vampire) - they have an uncommonly close relationship with animals, and many of them have a certain animal-look about them too, whether claws, or cat-like eyes, or very sharp teeth and so on.
The history of the Malkavian clan is completely shrouded in the past. The Malkavians themselves have many tales about their origin, but do not believe most of them. A favored legend among the kindred is that the founder of the house was cursed by Caine, and his descendants have lived with the madness since. The Malkavians have always existed on the periphery of the vampire culture, watching, but never truly involving themselves in it. Long ago, before the curse and the madness, the founder was said to be the greatest among third generation. Now it is his madness that keep the weakest of those involved in the Jyhad "alive".
Extremely unpredictable and dangerous vampires. Blood drives them completely mad, but also grants them extraordinary powers that make them stand out among other vampires. Their chief abilities include seeing things most vampires cannot, manipulating the will of others, etc.
Appearance: It's incredibly difficult to stereotype them. All of the members of this clan have a mental disorder, but that's not so easy to spot. For example, a raving lunatic in bunny slippers could be a Malkavian - but so would an apparently respectable doctor a la Hannibal Lecter... So it's really up to you.
It is the unfortunate plight of the members of this clan to display the beast within their hearts upon their countenances. Though their founder was known for his rabid predilections and monstrous impulses, the Nosferatu of today are known for being cool-headed. Though they tend to choose only the most depraved individuals as progeny, some how the members of this clan seem to retain their sanity better than most vampires. Their hideous appearance makes them quite unpopular and completely unable to exist in civilization. They look more like monsters than men (for an idea of their appearance, check out the classic film of the same name), they are endowed with a unique ability to conceal themselves from sight (called Obfuscate), which makes them formidable spies and ambushers.
The founder is said to have been a man of regal visage who incurred the wrath of Caine for his barbaric activities and was thereby cursed with the face of a hag. The savagery of his soul is reflected upon his face and that of all his progeny.
Of course, many clans have legends in which an all-powerful Caine curses their founder just as God cursed Caine. It is not likely that all of these stories are true, but some, such as this, might be. Presently, the Nosferatu clan is estranged from their founder, and do not serve him - at least to their knowledge.
Appearance; It'll be tricky to recreate them. The Embrace leaves them deformed and unrecognizable - scabby skin, puss-filled sores, bald heads, bat like ears, discolorations of the skin, lopsided fang-filled maws and the like. In one word, very ugly. They live in sewers, crypts etc so they usually smell as good as they look.
Throughout history, the Toreador have been involved in the arts. This tradition is said to have begun with the first progeny of the founder, a pair of beautiful and artistically gifted twins. Their sire was a leader of the cabal of third generation vampires who slew their own sires. Though ruthless, he was very doting upon his progeny, proffering them far more independence than any other fourth generation vampires were given. They used their freedom to nurture the full panorama of the arts, and their sire protected them throughout war and famine. To this day, the Toreador claim that they are watched over by Arikel, their founder. Though the Toreador are not as formally organised as some other clans, they are furiously loyal to one another and to the art they claim to serve.
Debutantes to the end, these vampires are inspired by things of great beauty. A Toreador’s senses are vastly enhanced to see beauty in the most unlikely of places, and they can use this skill (Auspex) to find their way out of seemingly impossible situations. They also have the ability to enchant and charm others (Presence). But, being so sensitive, they are drawn to any beautiful thing and can become completely captivated by it - even at the most inopportune moments.
Appearance: Generally more than average pretty. Think sexy, seductive, enticing. They are usually up to date with the respective age's fashion trends (and indeed, among the only clan who bothers with such things). They're basically the fashionistas of the vampire world.
The Tremere are unique and no other clan has a history as rich, yet short, as theirs. Long ago, there were others of their line who were not warlocks, nor did the clan have mastery over the discipline of Thaumaturgy. Less than 1,000 years ago, a metamorphosis occurred. Deep in the Romanian mountains, in the district known as Transylvania, a group of magi from the ancient order were Embraced by a foolish clan leader. Combining their new powers with their ancient lore, the magi were quickly able to assume control of the clan. They Embraced many others from their arcane order, and drank the blood of all the elders of their clan. It is even hinted that the most powerful among them managed to hunt down and slay the founder of the line. The Tremere have adopted the most rigid hierarchical system among the clans, and this has allowed them to achieve great power within Kindred society. The other clans distrust the Tremere, both out of fear and a sense that something is not quite right with them. The political center of the Tremere is in Vienna.
A malevolent bunch which seem more like sorcerers than anything else. Their powerful ancestry has bestowed great magical powers to the Tremere, passed down from untold generations. Their unique blood type grants them heightened senses, and the ability to force their will on their victims.
Appearance: No real clear stereotype. They're usually scholars, dressed in austere clothes. They don't much care for flashy things. I would imagine a Tremere woman as wearing a pencil dress with a tweed jacket, hair in a bun and with glasses. For example.
The Ventrue suspect that their founder has been slain by one of the Brujah clan. Though this is a blow to their pride, it has given them some distance and protection from the chaos and strife of the Jyhad. Without the intrigue and demands of a god-like founder, the Ventrue have acheived a remarkable independence from the Antediluvians. They do not know how much truth is contained in this legend, but it is nonetheless one of the basic tenets of their clan, no matter how much other Kindred scoff at it. If there is an elite class of vampire, the Ventrue would be the closest thing to it. The Ventrue are the political powerhouses of the Camarilla, and as such, most cities are governed by Ventrue princes. They are a balanced clan that relies equally on physical strength and the power of the mind.
Much of the respect accorded to the Ventrue is due to the independence they are perceived to have from the Antediluvians. It is out of pride for this respect they are given that they conceal their persecution of the Brujah clan. More princes and Justicars come from the Ventrue clan than from any other; they are clearly leaders of the Camarilla. The Ventrue have regular clan meetings in various parts of the world, including a Grand Council in London every seven years.
Appearance: Well, they're the upper class, and they were in their mortal days too. In the past, new progeny were chosen from the ranks of nobles, royalty and so on. Nowadays, from CEOs of companies and the like. They like the finest and most elegant clothes, though not necessarily fashionable. Many of them like to keep the style of their own mortal days in the way they dress. Males would wear impeccable suits, hair short and perfectly styled, women in either business suits, or elegant gowns for social meetings, fine jewelry, all in good taste. They're snotty as hell, and like to think it is their duty to lead the vampire society.
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WHAT IS A VAMPIRE?
Vampires are undead beings, meaning their bodies do not function like that of a human;
* They don't breathe, but they can mimic it. Some have even made a habit out of feigning it while among mortals, as it's a way to uphold the Masquerade. However, they can still speak and smell. (Don't ask me how that's possible, because I don't know. *s*)
* They don't have heartbeats
* Male vampires CAN, shall we say, show the signs of excitement, but not due to physical or mental stimulation, but by willing blood to the relevant area. Though few see the point, as Kindred no longer have a sex drive per se. Blood is usually the only objects of their desire.
* They can cry, but as blood is supposedly the only fluid in their system, the tears will be blood.
* They still feel physical pain.
* They do have reflections.
* Fangs; Their canines are long and pointed, and extremely sharp, but only fully extended while feeding, being at other times withdrawn into their sockets by the contraction of a flexible tissue at their base. However, some Nosferatu lack the means to withdraw their teeth, due to their disformed state.
* Feeding; the only thing a vampire craves as far as feeding is concerned, is blood. They can feed on humans or animals, although feeding on the latter is frowned upon by "polite Kindred society". Feeding should occur about once every night, unless they use their disciplines alot (using disciplines costs blood) or get seriously injured, in which case a higher blood level helps them heal faster. To feed, a vampire only needs to bite, retract the teeth from the wound and begin to drink. Once they're done, if they lick the wound it will heal, leaving no trace of the feeding. The victim will experience a feeling of ecstasy during the feeding. Afterwards they won't remember much of the incident, unless they actually know what has just happened (as would be the case with most blood dolls).
However, the Ventrue are a bit different from other clans when it comes to feeding. They cannot feed on the blood of bums, prostitutes, or any other being on "society's bottom", as it will cause them to vomit. Being the snobs they are, they require "higher quality" blood. Some have even developed a taste for one specific kind of blood (for instance, scholars or aristocrats, etc), and thus cannot drink any other kind of blood.
Kindred also usually don't kill when they feed. They take only what blood they need, and that's it. Killing is frowned upon, as it endangers the Masquerade by leaving corpses drained of blood for the police to investigate.
* Clans; whatever clan your Sire is, that is the clan you'll be. It's in the blood. If a Brujah embraces you, you're a Brujah for the rest of your unnatural unlife. Think of it as ethnicity; if you're born caucasian, there's no changing it.
* They can not digest food or drink, simply because their bodies are dead and cannot process it. If they eat or drink, they will vomit.
* Regeneration; Kindred can use the blood upon wich they've fed to heal themselves. Kindred are able to regenerate whole limbs and organs, given time and need. Regeneration always restores the vampire to the physical state he/she possessed when Embraced. This includes hair length, face shape, body weight, etc. When the body is injured or otherwise changed, it will reform in the same mold over and over again.
Regenerating/Healing in public is considered a Masquerade violation.
* As stated above, hair length cannot be permanently changed. It will never grow longer, but a vampire can cut his/her hair and have it stay that way during the entire night. When they go to sleep, the hair will regenerate. The same goes for piercings; if they get something pierced, and take out the ring/stud/whatever, the flesh/skin will regenerate within minutes.
* Final death; Kindred aren't completely immortal. They can die, and when they do, nothing will remain of their body but ash. This is called the Final Death.
What kills a vampire is the following;
- Being exposed to the sun for more than but a few seconds. The sun will burn their skin, and if they retreat back into the shadows in time, they will heal.
- Holy water; works much like sunlight. However, it won't really kill unless you decide to go swimming in it.
- Fire; works the same way as with humans.
- Decapitation; works the same way as with humans.
- Being completely drained of blood.
Wooden stakes will NOT kill a vampire. It will just paralyze them for a few moments, provided that they are staked in the heart.
Disciplines are supernatural powers granted by the Embrace. The origins of these powers are unknown, but some speculate they are gifts from Caine, the father of all vampires himself.
There are two types; passive and targeted.
Passive disciplines target your own character, and affect their perception and their skills. They last for a certain amount of time depending on the caster's level of expertise, but can be broken in advance by the caster him-/herself. Your character will automatically cast the highest level of any passive discipline they have.
The passive disciplines are; Auspex, Celerity, Fortitude, Obfuscate, Potence, Presence and Protean.
Targeted disciplines require your character to select a target on which to cast the spell; friend or foe, or even yourself. They can either harm or strengthen the target. You will also have to select what level to use, as each level represents a different "spell".
The targeted disciplines are; Animalism, Dementation, Dominate and Thaumaturgy.
What disciplines you have/can learn depends on what clan you are. Each clan has 3 disciplines they specialise in, and each discipline has 5 levels.
What levels you have access to depends on the age of your vampires. Neonates don't have access to any levels higher than 2, Ancillae can reach level 4, and only Elders and Methuselas can wield a level 5.
For the sake of 'realism' though, feel free to not have reached the highest level possible for your age, in every discipline you have.
Also, it is important that you are careful using disciplines, as some result in an obvious display of supernatural powers, and using them where the Masquerade is in effect (meaning in public or around mortals) will be considered a Masquerade violation, as it breaks the Masquerade. Other disciplines are subtle enough to use around mortals, as casting them will not be visible to the naked eye.
However, no disciplines are to be used while in an Elysium.
So, what three disciplines do each clan have?
Well, here is a list;
Brujah: Celerity, Potence, Presence
Gangrel: Animalism, Fortitude, Protean
Malkavian: Auspex, Dementation, Obfuscate
Nosferatu: Animalism, Obfuscate, Potence
Toreador: Auspex, Celerity, Presence
Tremere: Auspex, Dominate, Thaumaturgy
Ventrue: Dominate, Fortitude, Presence
I will not include the names of the various discipline levels, nor what they do. If you are interested in using disciplines, I must refer you to the Disciplines section on the website.
And if you have any questions, do feel free to ask.
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In order to offer players locations and landmarks where there characters can meet, instead of just having them all roam the streets, you'll find a list of current so-called Hot Spots below. These are locations that are open for all characters, unless otherwise stated. You are, however, of course free to have your character roam the streets anyway, or head to other locations.
* The Haven: a night club run by Valerian of clan Toreador and Claudia, a Ventrue. It's dark, with a gothic atmosphere, and offers the usual bar, booths and dance floor, but also a stage for live performances. The open second floor holds a VIP lounge/office to the left of the staircase, and a small passage leading to Valerian's personal chambers and art studio to the right. This has been branded an Elysium.
Picture 1, Picture 2, Picture 3, Picture 4, Picture 5, Picture 6
(Pics are not exact, but simply here to give you the general idea of the basic layout. Also, there are tables/booths underneath the VIP lounge and next to the stairs, but sadly items on the first floor don't show when viewing the second floor in-game (referring to Pic 2).)
* The Museum Hermeticum and Internet Cafe: The upper floors remain traditional to an ancient library filled with enough dusty texts and hidden scrolls to set every scholars heart on fire. The basement has been modernised in silver and ruby with the latest electronic equipment and now houses L.A.'s finest internet café. Enter to research online, keep up with the latest communications or stop by for the richest cup of Italian Mocha you’ll ever taste.
The museum is owned by the Tremere and Mina Coles resides on the top floor. This has been branded an Elysium.
* The Rave Arcade: With an eleven dollar admission fee, the Rave Arcade has become L.A.'s hottest gamer haven. The mood varies throughout the night, earlier hours are blanketed with soft techno sounds that are overridden by the endless drone of the arcade games. Deeper into the night, however, many of the arcade games are shut down and the moshers take their spot in the mosh pit as one of the popular local bands enlisted to play take their stage. The presence of the arcade is controversial as, over time, it has become a breeding ground for rowdy metalheads and shady characters.
* Club Diebuk: Diebuk is a rave nightclub where, unlike others in the city, vampires from all clans and backgrounds can come together. Well wishes, or no. The club was founded in 1892 by Cade Vaughn the Brujah Primogen, and is situated in Downtown LA, underground, opening usually around 9pm with no admission fee. It was primarily a location for solace, though as Cade would have it, he allows vampires to use their disciplines inside at will. The club is moderated by Brujah guards and bouncers, though even they involve themselves in bar brawls and punch-ups. Downstairs there is a bar and dancefloor with a plasma TV screen. The interior is lit with spotlights and strobe lights. The music blaring dance music. Off to the right is a black door guarded by burley Brujah vampires, leading to Cade's private room, which can be accessed by invitation.
* Algernon: This is a combined bookstore and café not far from The Haven, owned by Ventrue Primogen Archon DeWinter. Julia, a Tremere, helps him run it, selling books and what not. There is also a Ventrue male that has an eye on the business.
It is intimate and cozy with comfortable armchairs, yet it holds a lot of books. Both new ones, and old ones. And also computers with internet connection. All clans are welcome here, therefore it is not as grand as you would assume a Ventrue establishment to be. It is modern, but with a touch of the old days. You can definatley find some gothic design as well as victorian; among furniture, wallpapers and decorations. There are three floors. The first floor contains the bookstore and café. The second floor is for VIP only, which means Kindred. No kine is allowed up there what so ever. It also has books and a comfortable setting, in order for the Kindred to socialize without the interruption of the kine. The books on the second floor are older, and more suitable for the Kindred that wish to engage themselves in search of information. If anyone is looking for more rare books, they would be wise to contact the owner or Julia. The third floor is Archon's private office. This is where he has meetings with other Kindred, and where he spends his time when he needs to work in the center of the city, without disturbance.
Picture 1, Picture 2, Picture 3
* The Dive/Posh: One of the many casinos owned by Falesyia Kermode, though this is the only one she considers home. The Dive is one of her smaller establishments, consisting of only three floors. The bottom floor being where you’ll find the usual casino amenities. Plenty of slot machines and tables to spend your wealth in effort to strike it rich. A buffet area is also on this floor. The second floor hosts several suites for those who wish to stay in luxury, and can afford it. Falesyia's private suite is there as well as the offices and security personnel that can see everything going on below. Also located on the second floor is a set of doors that lead to Falesyia’s favorite place.
Behind these doors which are always guarded by two rather large bouncers, you’ll find a stair way leading to the third floor. The third floor is where you’ll find Posh, an invite only private area where only the elite of the elite, the richest of the rich are allowed. A much more intimate area, with only one table of each type is run. The stakes are high, the thrills intense.
While most who enter Posh are well known celebrities or business men, Falesyia keeps watch on the bottom floor. If someone catches her eye, or seems to be on one hell of a roll, they may be approached by her agents and invited to sit with the high rollers.
As mentioned in the first post, every major city has it's Prince. Los Angeles is no exception. Damian Alexander is a Ventrue elder, and has been the Prince of L.A. for well over two decades now. He will be played by me, and will not be taking up one of the character slots, meaning there are still 5 slots initially open for the Ventrue.
For more info on the office of Prince, please see the Glossary on the website.
The Prince will have a Sheriff (see the Glossary), but as I'm not sure how active the Prince will be, the sheriff will be made an NPC, and thus that position will not be up for grabs, simply because I don't want to tie someone up with a semi-active character. Being the Prince's bodyguard pretty much means following him around like a dog.
Should it turn out that the Prince will be more active than I've anticipated, I might consider opening up the position as sheriff.
But for now, picture him being a tall, robust Brujah brute.
Now, without any further ado; ladies and gentlemen, I give to you your Prince, Damian Alexander III;
Name: Damian Alexander (III)
Age: Elder (578 years old, embraced in 1429, at the age of 28)
Disciplines: Dominate (level 5), Fortitude (level 4), Presence (level 5)
Bio: Born during the Hundred Years War, Damian was destined to end up on the battlefield. Being of noble birth he was raised a knight, being taught virtues such as courtesy and manners, cleanliness and religion, along with various battle skills before even hitting puberty.
At the age of 14 he started serving as a squire, aiding a highly respected knight in battle, and outside. He watched and learned, and at the age of 19 was knighted by his master for saving his master's life on the battlefield.
He served the English with vigor, earning himself a reputation for being the epitome of what a knight should be - couragous, just, merciful, and noble - until he one day was fatally wounded during battle. He was taken back to his tent, and in the dead of the night was Embraced by a Ventrue who'd been keeping an eye on him for the last couple of years. The Ventrue had wanted to wait another year or so, but with Damian on his deathbed, they didn't want him to slip through their fingers.
Since then he's spent his time indulging himself in the virtues of the Ventrue, and has thus become a powerful leader and a shrewd business man.
During the mid 1600's, he was lurking around the Spanish court when a young lady, caught his eye. She was still only a teenager, but already possessed the poise and manners of a queen. He had one of his ghouls, the King's physician, keep an eye on her and keep Damian updated with the on-goings of her life.
Only weeks after first seeing her, Damian had decided she would be granted the Kiss as she was clearly meant to be a Ventrue. However, he also decided to wait a few years, so that she would first reach her full potential.
However, she suddenly fell very ill, and fearing that they would loose her and that he would suffer the wrath of Damian in the process, the doctor quickly sent for the noble Ventrue.
Damian had no choice. If he wanted her, and he did, he had to Embrace her right then and there on her death bed, much like the way he himself had been Embraced.
These days he resides in Los Angeles, and some two decades ago, was elected Prince of the city.
He's still considered just, noble and couragous, but he no longer shows mercy on those who betray him or let him down in any way, and he's been known to plot and manipulate younger Kindred into serving his own needs.
The Ventrue blood has also turned him into somewhat of an arrogant snob, as he, like any Ventrue, considers himself a born leader with the duty to guide and care for the Kindred in his town.
If you're a vampire and you've just arrived in L.A., it is required that you look up the Prince and introduce your presence in his city, as is it expected that if you wish to Embrace someone, wage war against Kindred, or call a blood hunt you should seek his permission before doing so.
You'll be most likely to find him in his penthouse office, in downtown Los Angeles.
(((ooc: The spot as his Childe is open, for anyone who might be interested.)))
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A Primogen is an advisor to the Prince, a representative of each clan within a domain. Together, all the Primogen form the Prince's advisory council, and all serve as his connection with all the Camarilla vampires dwelling in his domain.
A Primogen is mainly an elder in good standing within the community.
For more info on the Primogen, please see the Glossary on the website.
As each Camarilla clan in every town have their own Primogen, the positions as Clan Primogen are open to players in this game. There's one for every clan. The only requirement is that your vampire is an elder, and someone that would be considered suitable by others.
On this, it's first come, first served.
The Primogen council right now consists of the following;
Brujah Primogen: NPC
Gangrel Primogen: NPC
Malkavian Primogen: Seraphina Christou
Nosferatu Primogen: NPC
Toreador Primogen: TBA
Tremere Primogen: Mina Coles, NPC only to be used very carefully and only if there is no avoiding it.
Ventrue Primogen: Archon DeWinter
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This is where I would've listed common words and phrases used within Kindred society, but as these first couple of posts are already packed with quite alot of information, I will only (yet again) provide you guys with a link to the website, where you'll find the complete Glossary. You are not expected to learn everything there, it's merely there for reference.
Moira Sushill - Clan Toreador
1. What clan you belong to: Clan Toreador
Name: Moira Sushill
Age: Elder (570 years old)
Disciplines: Auspex(3), Celerity(2), Presence(5)
Seeing the light of day in 1438 in Târgoviste, Wallachia (the southern region of what would later on become Romania) Moira (born Moira Badea) was not born in a family of nobility – she was the daughter of an influential merchant in the area, who had acquired enough assets to make his family’s life comfortable, without being luxurious.
At the age of 16, Moira was wed to the boyar (nobleman) Mircea Sutu, 27 years older than her, a match her family considered extremely favourable and in which she had no choice, although the crafty girl saw a more considerable advantage than wealth in this marriage. As wife of Mircea Sutu, Moira convinced her husband –who, in his self-induced illusion believed she was in love with him – to let her see the only learned man at the court, a monk by the name of Arsenie and learn to read and write.
But learning was not all that Moira enjoyed doing; she took a deep liking to the arts of drawing, painting and music, but in a country forever under the threat of imminent wars, such trivialities were frowned upon and neglected. It was thus that soon after her 21st birthday that Moira once again compelled her husband into sending her to the Hungarian court, where she would remain with some of the Sutu family relatives for a month or two. The month became an year, fueled by Moira’s constant letters that the environment and climate did wonders for her health, which apparently had withered between the brick walls of the Wallachian fortress. In reality, Moira felt she would rather have drowned herself than return to the boring, tedious and stagnant life she had had at Mircea’s side, especially after encountering Matthias Cornellus, scholar and artist whose skilfully painted canvases decorated the walls of the Emperor’s palace. Seeing a bright spark of passion and talent in the young woman, Cornellus taught Moira more than old monk Arsenie ever could, the two spending countless hours into the night pouring over manuscripts and poetry novels.
Naturally, the young woman became fascinated with this man as well as his mystery: certain things about him raised questions, like the fact that he was never to be seen during the hours of daytime, and even after the two became lovers, Cornellus refused to talk of his past or tell her the reason why he was always away except the evenings and nights. But there was more than that: being close to him always, Moira started to notice her lover’s eerily perfect skin and features, a certain rich quality his hair had which she had never seen before, or his fluid movements that at times defied the laws of nature: lingering at her side until dawn one night, Matthias Cornellus leaped out of the window in his urge to find shelter before the sun rose, leaving Moira perplexed and astonished.
The following evening, she demanded answers, cried, threw a fit of rage which Cornellus withstood calmly, or rather with apparent calm: he compelled her to calm down using his Dominate powers for the first time on his lover, then explained the truth which turned out to be more frightening and incredible than anything Moira had expected to hear: that he, Matthias Cornellus was Kindred, vampire…member of the Toreador Clan. He also warned her that his mistake and her resolve to know his terrible truth left him with two choices: modify her memory that she would not remember he ever existed and leave her, or make her one of his kind. At the time, the Camarilla was in its cradle, and Cornellus desired Moira too much to kill her, but he would not risk his exposure by giving her such information without its inherit consequences. Not being able to bear the thought of loosing him, Moira accepted immortality under her lover’s fangs and thus became part of Clan Toreador. The couple remained together for nearly three centuries, traveling all across the civilized world and enjoying life’s finest pleasures that immortality could offer. For a long time, Moira was completely entranced with her new senses and heightened perceptions, and especially the way her artistic flair and talent became augmented by the Blood. However, even hers and Cornellus’s passionate lovestory came to an end once dissensions began to form between the no-longer young vampire Moira and her sire, dissensions that eventually ended with them parting. Moira was no longer content with just being the companion, the apprentice…she wished more than that and knew she was capable of it – thus after a painful separation from Matthias Cornellus, she relocated herself in Italy, where she remained for one more century. There, she encountered the girl who would inspire her greatest masterpiece, as well as her greatest failure: Josephine was her name, a runaway from the distant land of Poland, whose perplexing beauty and sweet disposition inspired Moira to begin a close friendship with the mortal woman, during the many nights she posed as Moira painted: it was not a sexual relationship, though perhaps as intimate as any love affair, Josephine playing the triple role of muse, friend, and ghoul.
During one such nights, the door to the studio burst open and an enraged, insanely jealous Matthias Cornellus stormed in, fangs bared, attacking and killing helpless Josephine where she stood, no warnings given. Shocked and filled with such a rage she had never believed she could feel, Moira challenged he Sire, who made the big mistake of underestimating her, forgetting his wits in his madness. In an impulse she would regret ever since, Moira drained Matthias dry, delivering her revenge and his final Death in a way condemned by the Camarilla: Diablerie was considered a heinous crime, in which only the Sabbat revelled, punishable by death.
Disgusted and ashamed, Moira fled Italy and settled in London, England, where she hoped to make a fresh start, changing her name to Moira Sushill to better blend in with the society. She became actively involved in Kindred politics, ascending to the rank of Primogen towards the mid 20th century; her masterpiece however, Josephine's unfinished portrait she never completed: her muse had died that night, and Moira had not been able to regain the heights of creative inspiration she had known then.
-for the purpose of this RP, Moira is visiting Los Angeles-
1. Name: Aeode Mallard
Willingness to be embraced: yes, if the story leads to a plausible embrace scenario
Occupation: something that pays the rent and allows her to keep a low profile (currently a bartender)
Short bio: Aeode is an enigma to most people she meets: a nomad who has been everywhere from Phuket to Istambul, has never kept a job longer than a couple of months and whose real name few know: secretive, insightful, and very opinionated, one can often get the feeling there is much she harbours to herself. But it hasn't always been this way, in fact, until her 18th birthday, life for Aeode had been very, very different. The Mallard family dabbled in may different ventures, some more legit than others, enough to ensure their lives remained carefree and privileged. One of their preferred investments was sponsoring talented artists: this stemmed from the fact that their own daughter, Aeode, had musical talents and a sweet, yet vibrant contra-alto voice which she hoped would one day place her name among the well known opera singers.
A lavish party was organized on the occasion of Aeode's 18th birthday, celebrating her passage into adulthood as well as her engagement to Thomas Caulfield, her childhood sweetheart. An unusual age for marriage by modern standards, perhaps, yet both Tom and Aeode were convinced it was the best decision for them. It all however turned to tragedy when a group of masked individuals bearing weapons and Molotov cocktails descended upon the gathering, incinerating and killing everything and everyone in their way. Aeode's parents died that night, as did many of the terror-stricken guests. In a frantic attempt to escape with her fiancé, Aeode sacrificed a few precious seconds to give Thomas enough time to reach his car and start it up; unfortunately, a few seconds too long for her. Two individuals captured her, beating her viciously, mercilessly, leaving her for dead: and indeed by the time they were finished, Aeode thought she was dead, and that the vague figure descending upon her in a glyph of pale light was the angel taking her away. She did not even register the moment when the stranger allowed several drops of blood to fall in between her parted lips, mingling with her own life essence and as they did, infusing her with a new-found strength and will to live. Even as the mysterious benefactor carried her to the nearest hospital, Aeode never saw his...or her face ( although her identity remained hidden, none other than Los Angeles Toreador Primogen Jessica had given her blood to the dying Aeode)
Despite her terrible wounds, and grim expectations, Aeode lived, and recovered which such speed the doctors were baffled: she was a walking medical miracle (she, of course, never remembered the blood she had received). She was left with a burning desire for revenge and an equally powerful fascination with the unknown person whom she remembered as though from a dream, but felt an inexplicable connection with nonetheless. She ached to see him or her, longed for it in a way that frightened her, but an even more acute urge dominated her mind: The young woman, an orphan, quickly realized the obvious: her family had been targeted by unknown factions who wished them all dead: she did not know why, and certainly not who, but for her only one option existed: she needed to disappear, hoping that with her gone, they would at least not harm Thomas, one of the few survivors, even though it would mean never having contact with her love again.
During the following 8 years, Aeode travelled far and wide; having emptied one of her father's secret bank accounts, she could afford to, keeping to herself, learning whatever she could from those she met on her way, most importantly how to fight. With the help of an ex martial arts teacher she became close to in Spain, Aeode diligently honed her skills, whether bare handed or using a wide range of weapons from guns, knives and even sword fighting. She then swore she would never again be a victim, and if she came face to face with them again, she would have her revenge on those who had ruined her life.
Eight years later, Aeode once again walks down the once familiar streets of Los Angeles, renting a small derelict apartment and working in bars, having long since exhausted the money taken from her father's account.
2. A picture of you:
18 year old Aeode, recovering after her attack:
Name: Valerian (doesn't use a last name)
Age: Neonate (Embraced in the 1902 at the age of 25)
Disciplines: Auspex (level 1), Celerity (level 2), Presence (level 2).
(Not so) Short Bio:
Valerian has always been a dreamer and a fan/lover of beauty. He'll find beauty in any and everything, and everyone. Born into a wealthy family in England in 1877, he was the youngest son of three, and thus the one with the least responsibility, which might explain his lack of interest in businesses, finances etc. Instead he grew up spending most of his time reading, writing, painting, daydreaming and seeking the company of others like him. And it was in this open-minded circle of friends that he first realized he was equally attracted by men and women. Both genders had their special qualities that he loved, though he knew better than to be open about his experiences with men.
At the age of 20, he had a falling out with his parents. They wanted him to mature and start taking responsibility, while Valerian himself kept insisting that he wanted to pursue a career as an artist; as a painter and possibly a poet. He wanted to attend the Chelsea School of Art, in order to develop his skills, but his parents refused to finance such a "waste of time". They even threatened to cut him off entirely if he did not bend to their will. Of course, he did not, and a short while later he was accepted by the school, ending up being disowned by his parents in the process.
Even from the very start money was tight, but luckily, Valerian had a wealthy "friend" who saw his potential and decided to help him out by not only paying for his education, but offer him a place to stay as well. It lasted only for a few months, until rumours started circulating. Valerian's friend claimed he couldn't risk his social status nor his good name, and thus Valerian was once again without a benefactor.
However, he soon found himself a cheap and shabby apartment, and took odd jobs in order to make enough money to be able to stay in school, even serving as a rentboy on rare occasions just to make ends meet.
Finishing his education, things didn't seem to look up anytime soon. He kept struggling for a couple of years, selling a painting every now and then, but it was never enough to make a real living.
Then one night, as he was sitting in the park, savouring the last dying traces of the sunset, he and the painting he'd been working on caught a certain someone's eye. A vampire. A Toreador, who instantly fell in love with the young man's talent. He approached Valerian, commenting on his work, and offering a few tips and tricks. Valerian was awestruck by the man's insight and knowledge, and a friendship was born.
Only a few weeks later, the Toreador embraced Valerian.
Nowadays, Valerian has temporarily settled down in Los Angeles, and runs a night club called The Haven. Or rather, he fronts and co-owns it. The other owner, and the one in charge of really running it (finances, hiring/firing staff etc) is a Ventrue female named Claudia, with whom he's having a relationship of some sort. There is a blood bond between the two, with Valerian being the thrall, and Claudia being the regnant. Thus, she does have him in her power, but does not completely control him. She's the dominant one, and he is her willing plaything, her boy toy. She can sometimes get impatient with him, as he's far too laid back and carefree, only seeking the pleasures of (un)life. He has little interest in how the business is run.
He can often be found at the club, either socializing at his usual table along with his ghoul Melody, or in the VIP lounge upstairs, where he willingly serves as a blood doll to both male and female vampires (mainly regulars). He loves the intimacy, and drinking from him is a highly sensual experience, even for vampires. Keep in mind though, that he is not a prostitute. Drinking from him doesn't hold a price, and he'll only share his blood with whoever he wants to.
However, he doesn't limit himself to sharing intimacy with vampires only, but will also on occasion indulge himself in real lovemaking, with mortals. Because, while vampires no longer have a sex drive per se, they can still perform the act of lovemaking, and being the sensual, sexual creature that he is, Valerian cherishes the intimacy shared with another beautiful being - be it a mortal or an immortal - even though the physical pleasure is not nearly as intense for him as for his parter (in case of a human). He simply finds his pleasure in pleasing others.
He doesn't care a whole lot about the feuds and disagreements between the clans, nor does he pay much attention to it. If he's up to date on things, it's simply because Claudia insists on trying to keep him in the loop. He rarely participates in any schemes, unless asked by her. He'll go along with running her errands every now and then, and help her succeed with whatever plans she might have. Be warned though, he's not naive; not in the way that he doesn't see what part he's playing in her (or anyone else's) schemes. He's usually very well aware of things, once he's gotten involved, even though he might not always seem to be.
As for the club itself, it is indeed a haven, like the name suggests, as it serves as an Elysium for the local vampires; a place where all fights and blood feuds are left at the door.
Except for the VIP lounge/office, the upstairs also holds Valerian's art studio and personal chambers, that he often shares with either Claudia, or his ghoul Melody.
(((ooc: I know the club name is a bit cheesy, but it's me paying homage to "Kindred; The Embraced". )))
Disciplines: Auspex (level 2), Dominate (level 1), Thaumaturgy (level 1)
Bio: Born a French nobleman in 1765, during the Enlightenment, Adrien was destined to have a talent for learning. At an early age he discovered the power of knowledge, and was taught a number of languages, sciences and arts. A romantic at heart, he found himself spending hours and hours playing and composing music. The harpsichord was his instrument of choice, and it was there he felt the most comfortable, and at peace.
However, late 18th century France was a turbulent time and place, and during the French revolution, Adrien's family were amongst the unfortunates that the people turned against. Both his parents and older siblings were arrested and executed.
Adrien himself, however, had caught someone's eye. And not just one person's. It was two people, who for different reasons desired him. Both of them vampires. One Toreador female, who had fallen in love with him while watching him perform one of his sonatas at a party. The other a man of the Tremere clan. Adrien's vast knowledge and hunger for learning tickled his interest.
But while the woman waited for just the right time to approach Adrien, the man wasted no time.
In a dirty back ally, attempting to escape from the angry mob, Adrien was embraced and quickly taken to a crypt at the cemetary. There he learned about his new nature, the Camarilla and the Masquerade, and he was delighted. He thouroughly enjoyed being a vampire. It opened up so many doors, so many new dimensions to life.
He's travelled the world, to study cultures and technology, and recently ended up in Los Angeles.
Yes. This was the story used to help decieve the Kindred of Los Angeles a long time ago, in the early light of the 20th century.
The truth of the matter was that Adrien was not born in 1765.
He did not experience the French revolution.
He was not a Tremere.
He hadn't even been Embraced.
Adrien de la Cour, was a vampire hunter.
Born the son of a mortal woman of the French court and a vampire, a so-called thin-blood, Adrien is a dhampir.
His real date of birth was in 1854. As a child he aged normally, but once he reached adulthood, the aging process started slowing down; with his body fully developed, his dhampir powers had kicked in.
Being the rare offspring of a vampire, Adrien was raised with tales of the Kindred, and to him, they were a natural part of life. Until they brought about an end to the (un)life of his thin-blood father. Only then did he see what they truely are (in his mind); monsters. Monsters that need to be exterminated. And he decided he would be the one to rid the world of them.
But in order to do that, he needed to learn more about them. With time being on his side, he began studying the Kindred, learning the basics of their society and their rules. Once that was done, he had to pick what clan he would pose as. He realized that killing Kindred would be easier if he managed to weasel his way into their society, as it would mean that he would be aquainted with his victims, instead of having to track them down from the shadows.
The Nosferatu would have been perfect, had they not been deformed to look on the outside what they truely were on the inside. All the information and knowledge they had would've made Adrien's mission alot easier. But they were simply impossible to imitate. And the same went for the Malkavians.
The nature of the Brujah and the Gangrel were both something Adrien couldn't relate to, and so trying to pose as either of them meant his cover would be easily blown. The Ventrue and the Toreador would be simple, and that was exactly why he dismissed them. If the Kindred started suspecting that they had a traitor among them, the Ventrue and the Toreador would be the first clans to be scrutinized.
But the Tremere, with their complex and mysterious ways, their strict hierachy and well guarded secrets... Even to the undead, they would be a challenge to imitate. And so they were the perfect clan. Adrien always did harbour an interest for the dark side of life, and actually fit the Tremere bill quite well.
Once he had learned what he needed to know in order to be able to present himself as a Tremere neonate, his vampire hunting days began.
This was in 1887. He had spent fifteen years studying, researching and perfecting his new persona, and was now 33 years old. Although his appearance and vitality was that of a man in his early 20's.
He spent a couple of months earning the trust of the Kindred around him, before he made his first kill. It was a Toreador neonate, so easily blinded by Adrien's good looks and charming ways that it took almost no effort at all.
After that, the number of Paris Kindred started rapidly decreasing. But before the risk of being found out got too big, Adrien bid his "fellow Tremere" farewell, telling them some excuse about wanting to leave Paris before he too suffered final death at the hands of this unknown vampire hunter.
However, unbeknownst to them, he stayed in secret to assasinate a few more Kindred. Because, if the killings ceased with his departure, it wouldn't take the survivors long to put two and two together.
And ironically, it was they who provided him with the perfect get-away. The turmoil caused by the many deaths had the same effect on Kindred as it would on humans; they started searching for a scapegoat, and even killed one of their own, a Brujah Ancilla, believing she was the traitor.
After she was dead, Adrien left Paris for real, leaving the remaining Kindred thinking they had indeed killed the hunter.
He repeated this pattern in various cities around Europe, before deciding the European Kindred had grown far too careful and suspicious for him to earn their trust. Instead, he crossed the Atlantic Ocean. The turn had now come to the Kindred of America.
By 1897, he had ended up in Los Angeles. There is where he met Mina; the first Kindred to ever spark an emotion in him. So much so that when came time to end her life, he hesitated ever so briefly. Not to take pleasure in the look on her face, not to savour the moment, but to apologize. If there had been one Kindred that could've made him think differently about their race, it would've been her.
But while it pained him to do this to her, he knew he had no choice. If he'd allow her to live, she surely wouldn't rest until she held in her hand his dying heart, ripped from his body by Mina herself. His betrayal had been too big for her to ever forgive him. She had confided in him, told him things she hadn't dared tell anyone else.
But, lady luck had been on Mina's side. Another Tremere interrupted just as Adrien was about to go in for the kill, and as it would've been impossible for him to take on two Tremere at once, he had to flee. Not just from the mansion they had been in, but from Los Angeles altogether. Staying would've been far too dangerous, as the Kindred now knew who he was and what he looked like.
Since that night, he roamed the various states of North America, tracking down Kindred and killing them when he got the chance. Though infiltrating the Tremere clan, or any clan, was no longer an option. He had long ago struck fear in Kindred society, as a nameless, unstoppable hunter. His anonymity had been his only protection. But with his appearance known, he would've roused suspicion the moment he waltzed into a Prince's domain, and so he'd had to settle for hiding in the shadows and striking when the right opportunity presented itself.
That was until three years ago.
In 2004, the Prince and the Primogen council of San Fransisco were informed that someone resembling Adrien had been spotted in their city. The Nosferatu were immediately sent to track him down. It took a while, even for these experts, but finally they found him.
Now, it was payback time.
Ambushed in a dirty back alley, to fit the story he had used to decieve so many of them throughout the years, Adrien was Embraced. And not just by any randomly chosen clan, but by the Tremere themselves.
Age: 150 dhampir years (appears to be in his mid/late 20's), three vampire years. Neonate.
Thanks: 1 in 1 Posts
Name: Falesyia Kermode
(Pronounced: fa-LEE-see-ah KER-mode)
Occupation: Owns several casinos
Willingness to be embraced: Perhaps eventually, if the time is right, by Toreador, or Ventrue
Short Bio:Falesyia is the only child of a self made multi-millionaire. The only thing her father loved more than her was his growing businesses, casinos. She was seven when her mother disappeared, leaving her to grow in the chaotic world of gambling, shady dealings and greed. She was always by her father’s side, watching how things were run, deals were made, and money earned.
When she turned eighteen she thought she’d see how things looked from the other side of the tables. During the night, she had caught the attention of a mysteriously handsome man, something about him captivated her. Despite should have knowing better, she welcomed his advances. When the man, who said he was just passing through, invited her to his suite she went willingly. As they were in an embrace Falesyia was overcome by the most intoxicating feeling she had ever experienced. The man was gone by morning, leaving Falesyia craving the intense experience. A craving that has not been fulfilled in the eight years that have passed.
Now that her father has passed on, Falesyia is the sole proprietor of the rather large casino chain. Though she is beautiful, she is a business woman to the core. She’s a rather astute woman, usually forceful with her silent stare. She does enjoy the nicer things in life, however, they do not satisfy her completely. She can usually be found at Posh, the most exclusive establishment she owns.
About Posh:Falesyia owns several casinos, however only one she considers home. The Dive is one of her smaller establishments, consisting of only three floors. The bottom floor being where you’ll find the usual casino amenities. Plenty of slot machines and tables to spend your wealth in effort to strike it rich. A buffet area is also on this floor. The second floor hosts several suites for those who wish to stay in luxury, and can afford it. Falesyia's private suite is there as well as the offices and security personnel that can see everything going on below. Also located on the second floor is a set of doors that lead to Falesyia’s favorite place.
Behind these doors which are always guarded by two rather large bouncers, you’ll find a stair way leading to the third floor. The third floor is where you’ll find Posh, an invite only private area where only the elite of the elite, the richest of the rich are allowed. A much more intimate area, with only one table of each type is run. The stakes are high, the thrills intense.
While most who enter Posh are well known celebrities or business men, Falesyia keeps watch on the bottom floor. If someone catches her eye, or seems to be on one hell of a roll, they may be approached by her agents and invited to sit with the high rollers.
Age: Acellia 275 years old
Disciples: Dominate lvl 3, Presence lvl 3
Bio: Bee was turned at the age of 18. She was engaged to a man she was maddely in love with when she was turned and hated the fact that she was taken away from him and never ot the life she had dreamed of. She is unlike most Ventrues. She is beautiful and her mind tends to wonder a bit. Curiosity happens to get the best of her. Her sire was a women who she came to love and be great friends with. The were inseperatable and she was encouraged to find out everything she could, so now she watched humans from the shadows. Remembering her life. When her sire was granted a final death, Bees heart was shattered. She has never filled that void that was taken from her and is often feeling lonely and missing her sire.
willingness to be embraced:yes, very willing
Bio: Kira owns a art galley in doentown L.A. She is widely know for her artistic abilities and her gallery. Mostly she is know for her rich landscapes of Ireland . but does have a few portraits and other paintings out there. She came to L.A. from Ireland when she was 18 ans cherieshes her irish roots. So she has an Irish accent. Quite modest. Picture her wearing a silk blouse and black slacks. (As I said I want to her to be a modest person, but I liked the picture so just think of her in modest clothing. If she becomes a vampire she might wear something like what is in the picture. And her skin is tanned a bit, not gray, lol.) Oh yes I forgot to add that she is a virgin. Doesnt drink or do drugs. She likes to keep her body healthy and pure.
Thanks: 1 in 1 Posts
Falesyia found herself sitting at the head of the long conference table in one of the offices on the second floor of The Dive. The meeting had gone on much longer than she had planned, each man insisting he have his time to be heard. These meetings with her top staff were necessary, as much as she’d hate to admit it. They had started out productive enough, but once she had grown tired of the constant drone of their voices she began to feel very much like Snow White. Each of them one of her little dwarfs. Only instead of a wicked step-mother handing her a poison apple, she felt as if her dwarfs were going to kill her.
“Okay gentlemen.” She said at a slightly lower volume level than normal. Falesyia was not one to holler to gather someone’s attention. Each and every fellow sitting in the room with her now had already learned that it was far more beneficial to hear her the first time she spoke, no matter how softly it was.
She leaned back with her legs crossed under the table, slowly swiveling her chair from side to side. “I do believe that any topic of importance has been discussed. You each have your areas to improve on. I expect nothing but good reports at our next meeting.”
“Yes Ms. Kermode” was the general answer as the men gathered their briefcases. Falesyia herself stood, allowing the skirt of her dress to slide down her body, back into its proper position.
“Mr. Muldrow” she called one of them by name. She had come to the side of the table, her body weight supported by her left hand firmly planted on the table, her other arm bent with her right hand upon her hips. “I would like to see you please.”
The look in the man’s eyes reminded her of a young boy whose mother called for him. He had the look of one who had done something naughty and was hesitant to obey for the fear of having been caught. Despite whatever it was that he had been feeling, he decided it was better to take his chances than to flat out disobey and soon uttered a simple “Of course.”
The man finished packing his briefcase, and as the rest of the men hurried out of the office he made his way to stand before Falesyia who now sat on the edge of the table, her legs crossed as she inserted a pen behind her right ear. “I am concerned with your profit reports.” She began rather bluntly.
“Yes mam… it’s like I said earlier…”
“I heard what you said earlier.” She interrupted the man whom she hoped would not continue, as that would annoy her very much. She placed her palms on the edge of the table leaning forwards towards him, wrapping her slender fingers around the edge. “I am just letting you know, if the next months reports are not better, I will have to come down to the establishment I have trusted you with and fix things myself.”
“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary Ms. Kermode.” His tone was obviously a forced confidence trying miserably to hide his inner fear.
Falesya sat up straight, her hands reached out taking a hold of the lapels of his suit jacket. “Good.” Her voice was much lighter now. “Is this a John Varvatos jacket?” she asked suddenly. The man seemed to be caught off guard as he was unable to find an answer. “Uhm… Uh… I'm afraid I don't know, it was a gift from my wife.”
“Well,” she slid off of the table nearly silently and now stood just inches away from him. Her eyes locked onto him, much as a lioness would eye her prey before pouncing on it. “You better get to work then, so your little wife can continue to buy you such excellent clothes.” Her head was tilted just slightly, it had been her cue it was his time to leave the room, but the man seemed frozen in his spot. It took his mind a few seconds to process what she had said, suddenly he grasped it and turned towards the door, walking with just a bit more speed than normal.
Falesyia turned on the balls of her feet as she watched the man leave the room, an amused smile on her face. Mr. Muldrow was the newest member of her team, and as the many before him he took some breaking in. She was sure though that he would be just fine, once he survived the initiation period of sorts.
She glanced to the clock on the wall and tried to decide what she wanted to do now that her meeting was over with. She finally settled on stopping by the security offices. She was in a rather good mood and hoped there would be someone down stairs she found vaguely interesting.
((OOC: Okay, worthless RP post in a way, because it doesn’t leave any opening for interaction with other players. *shrug* What can I say… I’m still fleshing her out.))
Name: Mina Coles
Auspex: Level 4,
Dominate: Level 3
THAUMATURGY Level 4
During the reign of the Queen she was initiated into a stem of the Dark Arts. It was here where she first met with the Secret Chiefs. Just after her 21st birthday she completed her initial instruction and drew the eye of a notable scholar. She resisted his advances for several months but eventually he wore her down as her heart turned from her morals to his enchantments. But she never understood what she was letting herself in for and one fateful night she was reborn. She lost everything she treasured in the world other than him but with the rebirth a new fire was set alight.
Mina spent centuries faithfully bound to her sire’s side as the spent the years travelling together or hiding out in Vienna watching and waiting, as the wars took their toll and new leaders arose. The time passed easily whilst she discovered for herself the wisdom held in the Tremere laboratory, rituals and ancient texts. As she mastered the arts of the elementals, the pathway of the tarot and the evocations of the spirits she realised that there was something missing and this thirst for knowledge drives her still. For the last few decades she resided in their English Mansion until her sire’s mysterious disappearance from Tremere society a few years ago. The mere mention of his name now brings the cold glare of Mina’s wrath.
Mina slowly worked her way up the Tremere hierarchy, finally establishing herself among likeminded others who had been embraced but all the time she kept a careful eye upon those who hold power amongst the Camarilla Although the home of her heart is still the English Isles she moved to LA to acquire the seat of Tremere Primogen. Here she resides in the loft apartment of the Museum Hermeticum.
Mina has a studious nature and respects knowledge for within it lies power. Her enemies would describe her as an ambitious, cold, elusive killer who trusts no-one. True she possesses these qualities, lacking any sense of true morality but she also has fire buried deep within, stirred by her vampiric senses and intense loyalty to her clan and those she treasures.
Painting of Mina which hangs above the Museum's Great Fireplace
The smooth trickling of falling water permeated the silence of Moira's hotel suite, disturbed only by an occasional, distant car horn blaring in the street below. Rivulets of rain trickled down the glass panes, blurring the ample view of Los Angeles' skyline visible from that altitude.
Steam billowed out through the open bathroom door, carrying a fresh scent of bath oils and perfumes; moments later, Moira's nude frame emerged from the tub, entirely dripping with water. Reaching for a towel, she proceeded to slowly dry her hair, her eyes fixated upon her reflection in the floor length mirror which dominated the bathroom; as the steam gave way to fresh air, the image grew clearer, revealing her body inch by inch, a vision of pearly whiteness untouched by the rosy hues human skin attained after a hot bath.
Moira's feet carried her soundlessly across the soft carpeted floor in the bedroom, where upon the bed awaited her outfit of choice: a deep purple chiffon blouse which gathered tightly around her waist and breast, with loose transparent sleeves, and a mid-length satin skirt of the same hue. Moira added a pair of the finest thread fishnet tights, a pair of elegant pumps, some light silver jewelry and her usual makeup which accentuated her eyes and lips. Her hair she clasped at the back of her head, letting it flow freely down her back while the shoulders remained bare.
A quick glance at the clock hanging on the far end wall informed the London Toreador Primogen that Valerian should be arriving shortly; exiting the bedroom, she emerged into the living room, adjacent to the temporary studio where all her work materials, recent sketches and the object of the visit were located. Although it was dark, Moira's eyes sought out the exact location of the painting, blinking away the familiar image which superimposed itself over reality in her mind: she knew it so well, seeing it was not entirely necessary anymore.
And soon, it would be revealed to another.
Thanks: 1 in 1 Posts
Name: Ada Von Vita
Age: Neonate (186yrs)
Disciplines: Thaumaturgy (lvl 2), Dominate (lvl 1), Auspex (lvl 2)
Short bio: Ada was oldest and only daughter of
a distinguished professor. Her mother died giving birth
to one of Ada's younger stillborn siblings and her father,
a very intelligent but flighty man, quit his job at the
college to open a book store.
Ada took care of her father and younger siblings for a
few years until the spring of 1821, when her father met
a mysterious woman named Celeste. He became obsessed
with her, spending all of his money on gifts and trinkets
and neglicting to pay his rent. Not long after, the bank
came to forclose on their bookshop. The banker took an
instant liking to Ada and her desperate father traded her
to him in exchange for the deed to the bookstore.
Ada's new husband, along with being twenty five years
older then her, was abusive. One day, after being married
for barely a year, Ada stole away during the night to
visit her father and siblings. She arrived at the bookshop
only to find Celeste La Morte, draining the last drops of
blood from her father, having already done the same to her
siblings. In a rage, Ada flew at the woman. Celeste could
easily have killed her but was attracted to her spirit and
instead embraced her.
After her embrace, Ada traveled Europe for quite a few
years, traveling with another vampire, Andre Delucian,
for part of that time. She eventually came to America in
Thanks: 1 in 1 Posts
Name: Andre Delucian
Age: Ancilla (291 yrs)
Disciplines:Dominate lvl 4, Fortitude lvl 2, Presence lvl 3
Short Bio: Andre was born to a prostitute in a
moderately sized coastal village in France. His mother, a
woman with a love for alcohol and gambling and a dislike
for children, spent most of her time in the taverns. This
left Andre plenty of time to run wild along the beaches
and warfs. When he was ten, Andre stowed away on a
ship bound for Spain. Shortly before reaching port, the
ship was attacked by pirates. Most of the crew resisted
and were killed. The rest, including Andre, were
captured. Andre grew to love living on the ship and formed
a close bond with captain Lai Choi San. Years later, during
a raid on a Belgian trade ship, captain Lai Choi San was
grieviously injured. Shortly before his death he made 19
year old Andre the new captain. Neither of them ever
knew they were father and son. The crew didn't like
the idea of such a young captain and mutineyed,
stranding Andre in a small Irish village.Five years
later Andre fell in love with a young irish woman
named Grace.One night while he slept she
embraced him, hoping to make him stay with
her forever. Terrified of his new powers Andre
fled to his birthplace, disappearing into the french
countryside for many years. He spent a few year
traveling with another kindred, Ada Von Vita, and
eventually came to America in 1938.
After finishing her works on the computer, she shut it off and went for a shower and dressed. Once again tonight she let her raven waves fall around her. To night she wore some khaki slacks with black heeled boots and a white blouse. Her jacket was matching to her pants. After she was done dressing she walked out into the night.
At first she wasnt sure of where to go, but she soon found a spot where she would be comfortable. A fire escape in an alley outside of a popular bar. She sat there and watched as the humans went by. Most of them were just arriving. Conversations floated to her ears and she listened to them. Sometimes she had to hold in a chuckle at what was reaching to her ears. No human would probaby spot her. The only thing one could spot was the way her amber eyes shone. Almost like an animal who belonged in the night. It was somewhat true, she was like an animal. The nights belonged to her and her kind. This was the time the vampires ruled. Humans are unaware of the battle that surrounds them. The creatures that lurk right next to them on the streets. If they knew there would be a hunt all over again. So they must never know who watches them.
((ooc: ok so it isnt all that good. But Beyonca is approachable, if someone would like to talk to her.))
Name: Carmilla Le Fanu
Age: 275 (Ancilla, Sired by NPC Seath; a 513 year old Elder.)
Disciplines: Auspex - Level 3 (Revealing auras within a large distance. Lasts 28 seconds.)
Dominate - Level 4 (Trance, Brainwipe, Suicide and Possession.)
Thaumaturgy - Level 2 (Blood Strike and Purge.) Carmilla is in training for level 3.
The first memory she had after the embrace was the soft sound of a nightly breeze, in the drapes by a window. This was soon joined with the small clinc of metal against fragile glass. She was lying on a large bed of satin, in a room with the moon as the only source of light. Her body felt heavy, sore. And she could sense the smell of blood. The clincing sound became appearant among all the other impressions that came over her. On the other side of the room, veiled in obscurity - in the dark aswell as in every other aspect - a man awaited her awakening. Although she was sure she had never seen him before, he felt familiar. He was holding a glass of wine, taping his little finger with a silverring against it. This was Seath, she was yet to learn.
When he first saw her in the streets of Pauge, or Hradčany as that part of Prauge was called back in 1732, he instantly fell for her. She was not of noble blood, but had such grace and nobility about her. Atleast in his eyes. He desired her, and had always wanted a companion. Carmilla, on the other hand, had no dreams of eternity. She was a young, godfearing christian who frequented the church. She believed in God and the Devil, and was scared to death of the latter. When she woke up in the satin bed, just a few feet from Seath, she thought he was the Devil. Her scream was muffled under his hand. He moved too quick for her to see, and that didn't help things. The long minutes of terror, waking up to this unknown life, turned into a never ending night. He calmed her down. Partly because it was in his nature, even before he became a vampire. But mostly it was in their common bond, as Sire and newborn. She belonged to him now. The blood rushing through her veins, claming her body to the undead, gave her a kind of serenity she had never felt before. He told her all her worries were gone. Poverty were no longer a problem. Death could never touch her. And she would never be alone.
Carmilla entered the life as a vampire with virgin eyes, and the trust for Seath grew with the decades passing by. But as the years turned into centuries, her outlook on life changed. Seath were no longer the Sire who protected is willing neonate. As long as her will coexisted with his, she were free. But as soon as she wanted to walk a different path, trying out her wings, he turned into a dark father who never wanted his daughter to take part in the world. He had trained her, nurturing her discipline skills. But he had never intended for her to leave him. Not even if she was to return. She was too important to him. From being his companion, to have her use her dominating skills and what not, to aid him in his quest to be an Elder to reckon with.
The betrayal was too hard to bare. He had let her blossom into a talented Tremere, only to keep her for himself. But under his watchful eyes, her talent grew into cunning. He could lock her up, shield her from the universe and only let her out when it served his purpose. But he could not anticipate how cunning she'd become. And she waited, like the sleeping beauty, for someone the set her free.
Seath had an iron hand in a velvet glove. He took her all over the world, where ever there be vampires. Eventually they returned to the city of angels, where he had his main residence. Carmilla often wondered if he mistook her for a porcelain doll, dressing her up in lovely gowns. And he highly praised her when he took her to vampire gatherings, like they were equals. She had no choice but to do his bidding, meanwhile she hoped he kept underestimating her and never discover she had a mind of her own. She had caught the eye of a Nosferatu. Normally a vampire would never seek out the Nosferatu, if not for information or other business, but Carmilla let her eyes scream for him to come to her. A Nosferatu was the only one who could creep through the shadows and reach Carmilla, without Seath knowing about it. This was her sanctuary, when he gently knocked on the window one night, and became her friend. Their friendship grew strong, he was the one who told her about Ancilla, when she became one. Carmilla saw beyond his appearance, his frightful look didn't scare her. She trusted him enough to tell him about something that she had always wondered about. After the embrace she had a scar over her left eye. She had never had that when she was a human, and she learned that vampires skin healed. So were did it come from? Seath surprised her with the truth. She always knew when he told lies, and this time he did not. The night he embraced her, another vampire had spotted her aswell, and had become furious with Seath. When trying to get in his way, in order to prevent him from claiming Carmilla as a Tremere, the violence that occured fell upon her instead. If she had become a vampire or a corpse that night if the other vampire had had his way with her, the tale does not tell.
((( ooc: The Nosferatu was going to be Esther, but Skylark seems to be missing in action, so I guess I will let it be an NPC. )))
2. Name: Caraltian Heresa (Cah-ral-tee-an Heh-ree-sah)
3. Age: Elder ~ 436 years.
4. Disciplines: Auspex (Level 4), Dementation (Level 3), Obfuscate (Level 5)
5. Short bio:
Caraltian is happy in the cobweb, however unhappy about the term cobweb due to his Phobia of spiders, his phobia extends in other directions to normal things, but in strange circumstances. He is happy, he thinks, but vibrates for one end to the other on most spectrums, be it sanity, competence or mental age. His pull is strong and his eyes confuse most people, they vary from clear to mirrored. His affinity for plant's holds the key to shifting through the muddle of the Malkavian sole, or at least he believes, or i believe at least, no he... wait... we?
Whatever, it's too much to think about now, plus one cannot go baring their sole to everone it just doesn't make for good "person" to "person" connections....
Name: Lord Archon DeWinter, Primogen of the Ventrue Clan
Age: 508 years old Elder (Sired in 1499, when he was 35 years old.)
Disciplines: Dominate - Level 5 (Mass Suicide)
Fortitude - Level 4 (You can withstand a great deal of damage.)
Presence - Level 4 (Mesmerizing targets)
Many battles were fought in the year of his birth, making sure Archon would have the blood of both a warrior and a nobleman. The Battle of Hedgeley Moor shed blood on his very birthday, taking the life of his father on the Yorkist side. Some used to say that is why baby Archon screamed on the top of his lounges.
Being from a powerful family, adressed as a Lord, the sky was the only limit. In his fathers absence, Archon grew up in great haste and became a intolerable youth, soon to take over his heritage. Archon lived with kine for 35 years, demanding aristocratic rank and had control over a portion of land and the produce of labor.
1499 would be the Julian calender year Archon drew his last human breaths. This was the year Perkin Warbeck and Edward Plantaganet were executed for treason against the English trone, and for attempting to excape the Tower of London. To Archon, these two men were examples for everyone who thought they could just rise up and overthrough the nobility. If you had it in you, you were either born with the heritage or you took it on the tip of a sword. You took it successfully, you didn't fail. Failure is not an option, and if it occures men are defined by their actions to redeem themselves. It was notions like this that made Archon enticing for the Ventrue clan, and the vampire that was about to sire him had followed him for weeks to make sure he was a appropriate specimen. She also believed in being thorough, and wouldn't dream of seeking audience with the London Prince, also a Ventrue, based on a whim.
The blood of the Ventrue clan was the last piece of the puzzle. Archon had just the right constellation for a aspiring Kindred, and one bite from a undead perfected it. Most newborns found the transition difficult and often horrible. But Archon was only too delighted to learn that he would live for ever, having the world at his feet. It was becoming of a true Ventrue. The only imperfection was the vampiric nutrition. "Blood?" Archon would utter the word as if it was the first time he tasted it on his tounge. He said it with contempt, as if his beautiful Sire asked him to conduct himself in a shameful manner.
Archon had never loved anyone, although 35 years at that time was almost a whole life. But when he met his Sire to be, he felt for her. It might just have been the lust of the human flesh, aching only to be touched by her, but to Archon this was sufficient to make his sharp business intellect scatter. And he had been around beautiful women before, surronded by them actually as his outlook on the world made for a charming gentleman in some women's eyes. But he had never deviated from his goal before. When he learnt of what she was, what he would become, that offer became bigger that his passion for her.
Archon lived through the ages, seeing more than his share of historical events. His nature prevented him from sharing the fate of others. Be it natural causes as well as sickness and additional quirks of life. He might take part in their demise, being both a highbrow illuminato and a man of sometimes vast antipathy, but he would never breake the Masquerade. Archon's Sire walked beside him from time to time, making sure he blossomed into a spectacular vampire leader some day. Altough the leaders of man are great, the leaders of vampire's are even greater. This was all most welcomed by Archon, as his taste for excellent distinction had no end to it. And the Ventrue blood would in time only make it stronger.
Even though Archon raised his brow now and then, wondering what on earth made some clans tick, he did in fact appreciate the contrast between the clans. Because if they were all Ventrue, who would the Ventrue lead? In his book Nosferatu were information, Tremere mystery, Gangrels integrity, Malkavians well disguised wisdom, and Toreador beauty. The Brujah added anarchy to the mix, being the nemesis of the business men and women of the Ventrue clan.
Above all, Archon appreciated something being well done, regardless of lineage. Being excellent was clanless, no matter how he sometimes flattered himself and his brethren with thinking no other clan held a candle to the Ventrue.
Archon sometimes enjoys giving humans vampire characteristics. He would simply point out to himself who would go with what clan. It was like playing a puppeteer, a vampire master. Not many would be given the honour of even the mere thought of belonging to the Ventrue. Historical landmarks were one of his favourites, like the Gunpowder Plot in 1605, instigated by Guy Fawkes. It was such Brujah behaviour. Trying to blow up the House of Parliament - what a discgrace! It was an oxymoron to say the least. They wanted to overthrow leaders, but of course the anarchy scum couldn't organize themselves in order to choose the perfect plan, stick to it and execute it flawlessly. Archon had a good laugh at that, and when the Guy Fawkes Night passed by each year he remembered the unsuccessful assassination attempt with a smile.
Although he travell throughout the world, his main residence now resides in L.A. He still adores London, where he was first made Primogen. They had been waiting for him to turn from Ancilla to Elder, in order to lead the Ventrue of London. This pleased Archon for a great deal of time, but he was still not entirely content. Being a member of the supreme clan, he had to choose his Prince carefully. Damian Alexander III was an excellent choice, making it not only tempting but an offer he could not refuse when crowned Primogen of the L.A. Ventrue. Besides being Prince no other title in the world, kine and Kindred alike, is as dignified, chivalrous and aristocratic as the Primogen title - of the Ventrue clan. Archon believes he is put on this earth for no other reason.
Name: Jayden La Tristesse
Age: Ancilla (313 yrs)
Disciplines: Dominate lvl 4, Fortitude lvl 3, Presence lvl 3
Short Bio: Jayden's entire family was killed in a flood, she fell into a deep depression and became a creature of the night at the tender age of nineteen.
She has been a vampire for a relativly short time, yet puts most of her efforts into training, though often reads and paints.
Known to be quiet and mysterious, Jayden can easily be revealed as an interesting and funny woman with as little as a 'Hello'.
She was embraced by her first love but found it hard to accept the solid fact that she was a vampire. People soon grew suspicous in her local community when she failed to gain a single wrinkle after over ten years. Fearing her powers would be discovered, she travelled from town to town, eventually making America her home in the 1930's.
Oh and innocenteyes, the woman Aeode bumped into was meant to be Beyonca but I don't know if you want that so she remains unnamed ))
Aeode Mallard - Night # 8 - Dez' basement -> Arriving at The Haven
Grunting sleepily, Aeode's jaws stretched into a wide yawn and her eyes blinked repeatedly, stung by the light flowing from above. Wriggling free of the sheets wrapped around her, the young woman drew herself up into a sitting position, running her fingers through her tousled hair – her head pounded painfully, and a vile taste clung to the back of her tongue. Aeode peered guiltily at the empty bottle of whiskey on the bedside table, recalling that morning's events: after having returned to the basement underneath the biker bar, Dez had finally revealed his discovery; unfortunately, he had little to actually show her then.
“Well, that's one hell of an anticlimax,” she had commented, peering darkly into computer screen filled with coding that she did not understand. “What is it?”
“That's a decryption software that's been running all night. I gotta say, for a while I thought this was a dead end...and then I figured I could try and pull the footage from the security cameras and check it out for myself. That was the easy part, the police still had it in their database, and I already have an, shall we say, “entry point” installed there. Anyway I watched it over and over again and found something odd: according to the schematics, there were fifteen different cameras installed around the perimeter, but I could only find feeds from thirteen of them. The other two...not a trace, and here's the interesting thing: they were the ones in the east side of the parking lot, where you were found half dead. So, I ran the files through a couple of recovery programs, see if anything was deleted from them...the result wasn't very conclusive, and my best guess was that the remaining files weren't simply deleted, they were moved to a different database, somewhere. Finding which one was an extremely long shot even for someone like me, but hey...had to try a few things. And here comes the best part. My search kept bringing me back to a server which I've encountered before and lemme tell ya...whatever it is, it's huge and it's got more encryption and security devices than the Pentagon. I know, because I've hacked into the Pentagon! I mean, breaking in would have taken days, weeks, but the thing's dynamic and it's got more dead ends, fake servers and traps for hackers than I could probably avoid. Although “databases” would be the better term to describe it...apart from the mainframe there are perhaps hundreds of satellite min-databases, and what interested me was hidden somewhere in one of these. Knowing what to look for made it somewhat easier and either there was a glitch in security or it simply wasn't as heavily protected as the rest of them, but after a couple of -rather painful- failures...I managed to salvage the missing files before the system's programming activated the self-destruct sequence and deleted everything that remained. Or at least...I hope these are the missing files.”
“What do you mean?” Aeode croaked; she felt as though her heart was about to leap out of her chest with anxiousness. “You haven't seen them?”
“Well...no. They're also encrypted. But I think I've managed to pinpoint an algorithm and I should have them done in a couple of hours, give or take. Oh by the way...your guy, deLucian...couldn't find his name anywhere on the guest list but he wasn't lying: I watched the tape, he did dance with you.”
“Yeah I know...that part I do remember” Aeode muttered sourly.
“I looked him up and found nothing: no birth certificate, no medical records, no school diplomas; it's like the guy doesn't even exist. I can only guess it's an alias, and he must be good: even those leave traces. How about you? What did you find?”
Slumping into a nearby chair, Aeode sighed heavily, shaking her head in disdain; after having anticipated the moment of truth with such ardor, having to postpone it even longer felt like an added stone to the burden she already carried. She glanced tiredly at Dez and retrieved her phone, typing hastily.
“This.” she said at last, holding it aloft, Jessica's face staring through the small square screen. “I met her at work tonight, she was ordering water of all things. And guess what's her name? Jessica.”
Dez leaned forward to have a better look, but his gaze bore a cautiously incredulous look:
“An odd coincidence I agree, but 'Yodey, there is little chance it's anything more than that: a coincidence. You know that.”
Drawing in a stiff breath, sudden anger flashed in Aeode's eyes and she pocketed her phone, standing up and preparing to move away.
“Yes well...since I don't have your mad hacker skills, I do what I can.”
However, before she could go any further, Dez' fingers clasped around her arm, holding on gently though tightly.
“That's not what I meant. I know this is all so insane and it must be so tough on you...but we need to keep a clear mind. You might be growing a little too obsessed with this Jessica. I am trying to help, Aeode.”
“Yeah I know,” Aeode whispered, all anger drained from her voice; bitter, silent tears streamed down her face. “It's just that I feel so bloody useless and...helpless! I can't get it out of my head, that someone out there is playing us like some goddamn puppets on strings. Thank you...for all the help. I appreciate it, more than you think. I mean that.”
She turned around brusquely, staring fixedly at Dez's from beneath a curtain of tears that hung to her lashes in droplets. Despite that, grim determination was etched in each line of her face. The man seemed taken aback by the sight, unsure what to say, although the words forming on his lips were obliterated by Aeode's ravenous kiss.
All of these memories crept back into Aeode's numb consciousness; she was alone in bed, and the rapid clicking of Dez keyboard told her he was already at work. Reaching out for some clothes, her fingers discovered a large T shirt, one Dez had been wearing, and pulled it over her head. It fit her like a huge dress, reaching past her knees.
“Morning” she grunted, dragging her feet across the room and massaging her sore forehead.
“More like evening. You've slept all day.”
“Lucky it's my free night then. Is there any coffee around here?”
Dez gestured towards the small niche which served as his kitchen and focused his attention to the harsh glow of the computer screen which gave his skin a sickly, pasty colour. A couple of minutes later, sipping a large mug of steaming coffee, Aeode sat on a chair next to him, a newfound rush of adrenaline lifting her hangover a little:
“Is it done?”
“Almost. Maybe a minute or so longer. I was just about to wake you.”
Aeode stared in silence at the progress bar slowly filling up on the screen; it switched from 98% to displaying “99% Done”. She swallowed dryly, sweat forming on her palms, mentally counting down...9...8...7...6...5...3..2...1....with a sharp beep, a small window flashed into existence before their eyes, informing them that the decryption process was complete. Steadying her mug and inhaling deeply, Aeode continued to watch avidly as Dez prepared the video player and clicked Play.
Erratic, poor quality images took shape on the screen, some parts fuzzier than others, but linear enough to make sense. Even though they were not showing the central point of the massacre, chaos reigned supreme: people fleeing for their lives, men supporting panting women, friends and strangers alike motioning each other to run faster. Aeode instinctively closed her eyes when a masked figure emerged into view, holding an automatic weapon which he unloaded onto a small group of her old school friends, who fell to the ground like puppets whose strings had been severed; the fact that there was no sound made it no less difficult to watch; little by little, she was being transported back into that hellish world. She did not need sound; her mind recalled the clamor, the screaming, the gunshots with painful clarity.
Not a minute later, two familiar figures ran into view: one of them was a young woman with waist long coppery curls, wearing a turquoise party dress; a young man with shaggy brown hair in a black suit held her hand as they ran. Aeode stifled a gasp, her shaking hands struggling to find a solid surface to place the coffee mug on.
“Perhaps you shouldn't watch this,” Dez said, glancing from the images on the screen to the older Aeode at his side. They both knew what was about to happen.
“No, I have to” she answered very quietly, balling her hands into tight fists. She felt giddy, fascinated by the movie as was someone unable to look away from a terrible sight. Less than a minute...it had felt so much longer to her. It had felt endless. As they watched, the 18 year old Aeode gesticulated wildly, obviously trying to convince Thomas to leave her and get the car. The argument took seconds, Thomas darting away towards the end of the parking lot, fumbling in his pockets for his keys. And then, two of the masked attackers came out of nowhere, circling Aeode. She tried to dodge them and follow her fiance, but they closed in upon her like two nefarious birds of prey. One held a metal bar, the other a rifle balanced between their hands and poised to attack. The strikes came down mercilessly, viciously. Specks of blood flew in the air, fanning around the fallen figure curled helplessly on the pavement, her arms locked over her head. Aeode recalled each blinding surge of pain, the pure terror of each frantic heart beat, the sharp knowledge that she was about to die. Even after she had lost consciousness, the blows kept raining down on her bruised and bloodied body.
At last, the gruesome scene ended and the attackers departed. Aeode knew from the police reports that assistance had arrived to the scenes in less than five minutes; five minutes too late for everyone whose life had been lost that night.
“Are you okay?” Dez whispered, struggling with his own rising nausea.
Aeode nodded briskly; her chest rose and descended heavily and she looked pale and drawn; tears once again trickled down her cheeks. She felt certain her knees would not be able to support her if she tried to stand, but sheer determination kept her glued to the screen. In a few moments, her mysterious saviour would appear and then...
A loud curse escaped her lips; having relatively clear until that point, the images grew fuzzier, noise spreading across the screen like a grainy virus. Both Dez and Aeode leaped out of their chairs, giving voice to their frustration, outraged at the new way fate had decided to mock them.
“Wait wait it's coming back!” Aeode said shrilly, flailing her arms. Slowly, discernible images jittered back into view, the quality however remained frustratingly low, like that of a badly recorded or aged video, but the scene depicted partly compensated that: Aeode was no longer alone and dying in the parking lot; someone else had knelt next to her. Their back was turned to the camera, hiding their movements from view. No matter how close she stared or from what angle, Aeode could not see the person's arms, or most of her own upper body.
“Don't you have a view from the other camera? You said there were supposed to be two of them!”
“There were...but these are just bits and pieces I could recover, Aeode. I'm sorry. But wait, maybe she'll run this way!”
Yes, that must have been correct; their view of the person revealed a shoulder length bob cut, and though crouched down, the body had a feminine waist and narrow shoulders. Moments later, the woman stood up, took a quick look around herself and turned to leave, but not before Dez' finger bore down on the Pause button, freezing the frame: a woman's face was revealed, one which was unmistakable despite the grainy layer of noise obstructing it: Aeode recognized it, having seen it only a day before: Jessica, virtually unchanged down to the same haircut.
Aeode kept staring at it in disbelief; it all felt like a psychedelic nightmare weaving its tangled webs around her, choking the air out of her lungs. At long last, the ghost haunting her for eight years had stepped out of the shadows: it had a face, and a name. Jessica. The very same woman she had jokingly dubbed The Lady in Pink and chatted to only hours earlier, never guessing the knowledge hidden behind that pleasant smile. It maddened her even more, realizing Jessica had sat there at the bar, knowing all of this and more, and had done absolutely nothing.
“Why? Why?!” was all she could say, but the words fell dead: it was an empty question only Jessica had an answer to.
“The better question is, what in God's name did she do to you?” Dez replied.
“That's what I'm going to find out.”
“Where are you going?”
Despite Dez' best efforts to change her mind, Aeode's decision was immutable: The Haven was her only link to Jessica if ever there was one, although she could only hope she would find her there again. If not, there was Valerian, her employer, someone Jessica had claimed was her friend. If she wasn't there, Aeode was determined to speak to Valerian instead. One way or another, she would not leave without an answer of some sort.
“Do you want me to wait for you?” Dez asked when his bike came to a halt in front of The Haven's busy entrance. Aeode shook her head and with a final nod she hopped down on the pavement, but instead of joining the throng of people waiting to enter the club, she disappeared into the dimness of the alley running alongside the building, nearly knocking down a woman in her haste. Muttering an excuse, the redhead reached for the service door, knocking three times.
“You're not on duty tonight” the bouncer observed. “You'll have to get in through the front like everyone else I'm afraid.”
“Come on, please....I left my bracelet behind the bar yesterday. Can't I just hop in and get it? I don't feel like waiting in line just for that. I'll pay the entry fee if that's what you're worried about.”
Minutes later, Aeode's heavy boots trotted down the Haven's corridors, eager to reach the club proper; the heavy beat of the bass reverberated through the floor, vibrating dully, mingling with the loud cacophony of voices. As inconspicuously as possible, although nobody seemed to pay any attention to her, the young woman joined the throngs of patrons, navigating the crowd until she reached a quieter spot on the far side, searching for a glimpse of the person she was so eager to speak to.
Willingness to be embraced (if so, by what clan) or a ghoul
Not right away but might be persuaded eventually
occupation: Financial Affairs and Business Representative
Zillah ran away from home at thirteen years of age trading one miserable, unwanted abusive life for another. He spent two years selling himself and any substance he could get hold of on the streets until one day he was approached by a young man who saw in him the cunning and drive to prosper. Although he was only fifteen at the time Zillah knew that there was another world out there, just waiting for him to dive head first into like a bath of custard, and seized the opportunity.
At the man’s instruction he began making deliveries, small transactions for which he was profitably rewarded. Through the years he gained more influential and profitable work as he showed himself to be dependable and more importantly willing to do just about anything for the right price. His looks and charm soon drew others to him and he discovered, with the man’s firm guidance, a far more profitable business venture.
Zilliah now runs a team of girls who do most of the dirty work for him. Leaving him to reap the profits and spend his time haunting the streets of LA seeking out new thrills to push his desires to the limits. His position of Business Representative affords him a hefty salary and at twenty-three he relishes the rewards, a pad in the most exclusive district of town, fast cars, deluxe holidays, every dream he had made reality by the unending expanse of money. Which gives him the arrogance to believe that money or charm will acquire him everything he wishes.
He can be cruel, insensitive and violent to anyone who gets in his way. Yet Zilliah has a softer side, the child within him that sometimes fights to the surface, persuades him to give a coin to the beggar, to buy a meal for the hard-up girls. So he is often distortedly respected by the underworld of humans he haunts amongst.
Zilliah can often be found around town where he can be approached for the services of one of his girls. He doesn’t believe in vampires, they’re just some “sick freaks” who get their kicks a different way. Some of his clients like nappies others like to bite, its a wierd world out there. He himself can be bought for a hefty price, although often it is not money he craves but information.
Pic (subject to change as I lost my characters on an old PC).
His name's an obvious tribute to Poppy Z Brite.
'My version of birdsong' She thought, stretching.
She heaved herself out of bed and went to apply her make-up, the usual red lipstick and black eyeshadow before flinging on a randomly selected black dress and long lace gloves.
She didn't bother with her hair today, she simply let the jet curls falls to her middle naturally.
The usual brushing of teeth and additon of jewellery followed, deciding today to wear one of her many ruby necklaces as a headband.
She grabbed her car keys, closed the front door and sat herself down in the car.
It later ground to a halt outside The Haven, rumor had it that others like her came here. She had never really made an effort to find others vampires, she didn't avoid them, but she certainly didn't go out of her way.
She strolled toward the bar and ordered a Smirnoff Ice, scanning her surroundings as she leaned against the bar.