Link to the Interest check - for any information not covered in this post


Preface
Something ominous is going on. Below the surface of human society, even below the surface of kindred society. Something lurks in the depths. Unseen, menacing, threatening to transgress the law of our oh so precious masquerade. An indifferent killer, it seems. A crazed fanatic, maybe, someone with a mad and delirious vision. Or even a creature, unsystematically dispatching all the wrong targets in an accidental jest of fate? It matters not to prince LaCroix. It is his duty to uphold the facade that enables kindred society to dwell in its current place, above and below the oblivious mortals. And who or whatever decided to tresspass between the two worlds co-existing under his supervision, is stepping on his lawn. And making quite the mess at that.

Everything started with the disappearance of a Nosferatu named Marco. Not the most unusual thing to happen, admittedly. However, this specific Nosferatu happened to be the classic example of 'the wrong guy to mug in some back alley'. He had close ties with the Camarilla, in fact he was one of the main connections LaCroix had to the underground. An indirect wire to Tung, with a lot of inside information, absolutely loyal. He had no reason to do the 'Nos thing'. If anything, the safest place for Marco would have been the princes tower. In short - people would come looking for him. His disappearance makes no sense, no matter how you look at it.
And as misfortune never comes alone, not long after this incident, homicides start happening, with no obvious consistency - someone starts killing vampires, ghouls and humans with no obvious pattern or coherence. It is evident that something is going on, someone is poaching in LA with little regard for decency and etiquette.

To get the situation under control, the prince takes on drastic measures. An ambitious plan has been forged that aims to unveil what is happening behind the courtains of the scenery on hand. A handpicked group of kindred is being assembled in a special room, completely isolated from the outside world. Perfectly bug-proof and inaccessible for anyone uninvited, this room will be the venue of briefings, reports and discussions that are not meant to be heard by anyone uninvolved. The five guests in this room have nothing in common but one thing - they all have violated the masquerade before. They are all given the chance to clean their slate - should their mission be successful. But this mission has another, quite maniacal catch, as they will learn as soon as they enter this secluded chamber. They will form an investigation team that looks for traces to capture whoever is responsible for the vanishing of the Nosferatu informant and the deaths of at least four victims, including another vampire.

They head out to hunt the hunter of hunters, to stop the murderer of murderers.

Background, setting, general information bits
As I'm somewhat illiterate myself, having only played VtM, I'll have this happen in the general 'world' the game is based on, roughly six to twelve months before the events of the game. Lacroix is the prince we are working for, though (spoilers) he won't be an integral part of our story. Knowing to shudder whenever his name is spoken like some cheesy Voldemort reference is all there is to him. The location everything will play out is LA, logically. I'll confess though, I've never been there myself, so do not be overly fussy with geographical details. It's a city with a huge tower, an appartement building and a creepy old ruin with a cannibalistic woman in its basement, that's all I know for sure. I hope it's not overly important to be accurate about this kind of thing.
As for our characters, they'll all be working for the Camarilla, thus being reasonably loyal to the prince is kind of a given. Also, like mentioned in the interest check, I'd prefer us to be somewhat 'middle aged' in terms of VtM(game), meaning that we're not high end badass mofos who'll tear apart one werewolf with each hand, but have reasonable strengths and specialized talents. See my CS for an example of what I'm thinking of.

Clans and characters - gonna add character names as the CS's pop up.

Brujah - Varin Soralin - urukhai
Gangrel - Lloyd Haythorn - Saarebas
Malkavian - Seven - Skye Autumn
( Toreador - Jasmine LaVey - 6Deadly6Venom6 )

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Rules
So, apparently OOC-openers have these. Guess I might add some, as well.
#1.0: I am always right.
#1.1: #1 is meant as a joke.
#1.2: #2 is meant as a joke.
#1.3: Only one of the three rules above is true. Have fun figuring that one out.

Alright, fun aside.

#2: OOC =/= IC. Take note that while one character might come across aggressive and hostile ICly, this does not equal aggression from the writer towards you. I can hardly stress this enough, because I've seen multiple instances of OOC conflict arising from IC tension during my time. VtM is dark and grim, being a bit 'rough' is likely going to happen. Don't take it personally, if it's an IC thing, it is not directed at you personally.

#3: Limit your character. Nobody is allmighty, you're not going to see through everything right away, neither IC nor OOC (I hope, I'm trying to make this interesting). Having a player godmod their way to victory is boring for everyone involved. If there's ever a situation where you're not sure if you can/should/may do something, feel free to ask me directly.
Example: Your character is scanning a room for irregularities, looking for bullet shells in specific. If you ask me via PM before you post that, I'll tell you if, where and how many they'll find. If you merely post -that- you're scanning the room, I'll add a 'narration' bit to my posts announcing the results. There will be situations where such things are up to the players, and some where I'll decide results more strictly so they don't mess with the plot too much, communication is the key here.

#4: Player interaction is up to everyone as they see fit, as long as all parties involved agree. If you -want- to have a duel to the death because your characters turn out to hate each other so badly, you're free to duke it out. It'll affect the plot progress as I see fit, I'll mostly adjust the story to how things go. In terms of Player - NPC interaction, things look roughly the same, I'm representing NPCs in this case.

#5: NPC handling will be done by me. Players are supposed to play their character, primarily. If you want to have a personal ghoul, and it makes sense in context, then you shall have your pet. But randoms strangers from across the streets are my property. (You're in my kingdom now! Mwahaha!)

#6: Language may be used as seen fit, unless it's unnecessarily excessive and contradictive, it is allowed. Swearing, 'bad words' and so forth are to be expected from the average kindred, so limiting their use would be untrue to the world we all know and love. That said, being overly excessive with the aggressive language without a good reason is not to be desired.

#7: Gore? This is a tricky one. I'm assuming that everybody who is familiar with the VtM lore is either mature enough for this kind of stuff, or pretending to be. I don't want to encourage super detailed vivisection kind of endeavors, no sir. A lost arm, a cut throat or - crazy example, I know - vomiting blood is within the limits of what I'll tolerate. We're not the sparkly kind of vampire, but please don't decorate the walls with body parts. Unless you have to. And then try to be vague about it.

#8: Fun. You must have it. That is an order.

#9: Private in-between visits which you don't want to be publically visual within the rp thread for whatever reason and that work via PM and such, they work via PM and such. Try to keep them in mind in the general RP though - aka you lose an eye in a badly thought-out flirt attempt, you'll have a scar the next time people see you, and you'll have a story to tell your version of. Which makes for interesting RP.

#10: The grim reaper comes for all of you. Should you be unable to participate any further in the story, for whatever reason, I will have to dispose of your character one way or another. Having them just 'surprisingly' disappear just isn't my kind of thing, so...yeah.

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Character sheet
Name:
Apparent Age:
Gender:
Clan:
Loyality:
Appearance:
Behavior:
Background:

Note: This is not a requirement, just an example. The only point mandatory is 'Name', the rest may be ignored/replaced at leisure.
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Short note on my CS:
The excessive use of redacted sections is utterly intentional, and covering up a feature of hers that I plan to either reveal at the initial briefing, or during the course of the story - still on the fence on that. It's likely the most lore-violating part of the entire RP, but I believe it fits reasonably well into everything and even suits the malkavian bloodline quite well. It also is the reason why her insanity is so much unlike regular Malk madness. Forgive me for what I've done, and wait and see before you send me to hell.
Also, for all those who stopped reading the CS at the cheesy as hell name: There are reasons for why I picked this one, one of them being the fact that she doesn't remember her actual name. Actually chosing a name took me longer than anything else about her. I'm not super happy with this one but it serves purposes.

Everything ELSE I forgot as well as additional formatting, I'll add over the course of the coming days.

Name: Seven

Apparent Age: 24

Sex: Female

Clan: Malkavian

Loyalty: indifferent

[REDACTED SECTION]



Appearance: Mostly seen in a black, slightly oversized hoodie that conceals more than one battle scar, not all of them inflicted by adversaries. Equally black, partially ripped pants and clunky boots are telling that she doesn't give much of a damn about fashion sense, one could say there's (literally) too much on her mind to worry about appearance. A dog collar is expressing her personal sense of bitter, self-ironical humor and serves in a more practical way at times. She's wearing her hair as what others would describe as a 'chaotic mess'. Seven's build can mostly be described as average and ordinary, which would be the only thing about her that fits this description.

Behavior: If one would look for her in a generic room, she'd be sitting in a corner as far away from the door as possible. She's not overly sociable and has the erratic mood swings her bloodline is known for. One moment she's curious and interested, and half a breath later she screams at your shadow with furious anger. Like most Malks, she has her moments of clarity, wisdom, reason and understanding but those are rare and hard to differentiate from batshit talk and 'regular' hallucinations. Depending on [REDACTED], talking to her is described between stressful and unbearable. Her speech patterns are slightly off the malkavian standard, as she's not constantly using the colorful metaphors of a feverish mind, but rather changes style, tone and wording every few sentences. Mostly every other sentence. On bad days even mid-sentence. She's fully aware of her insanity and manages to behave herself around mortals, mostly. Since her speech patterns are that irratic, telling how she feels about other vampires, clans and families is no easy feat. All in all, she either cherishes friendship with a selected few, or enjoys torturing this selected few with her antics more than others, either way she usually keeps away from crowds and sticks to those who accept her presence.

Nature of her insanity: Like other Malkavians, this one has multiple split personalities all imprisoned in one mind, but this one is well aware of it. While the 'common' Malk has more or less deep connections to the cobweb like mass of minds and voices, Seven is even uncommon for lunatics standards. It's like an amount of different aspects of herself exist seperately from each other, different emotions and moods manifested as seperate personalities. And they all are ripping, pushing and pulling on her nervous system, trying to steer the body in this or that direction. It is a constant struggle for control with herself, and the way she talks is telltale of this battle fought inside her head. While this leads to a linguistic chaos, it does not seem to impede movement, at least not much. She still defends herself with uncommon and unexpected motions, but one could not tell her blood legacy from the way she moves outside of battle (unless it's a bad day). [REDACTED SECTION] She tried to kill herself, assaulted a close friend with deadly intent, set her own house on fire and murdered half a streets population before. Out of control she's a danger to herself and everyone around her, especially if [REDACTED SECTION].

Background: She doesn't remember how she became a youngblood, nor who her creator was or why she came to be this 'unique'. In fact, even her real name is known, 'Seven' is merely what the Camarilla call her. Her past is shrouded with hallucinations and the misuse of [REDACTED SECTION]. She spent the first few years of her new life completely confused but instinctively managed to keep away from humans and vampires alike, not breaking the masquerade until she came across a paranoid Gangrel anarchist that mistook her for a Camarilla spy. An unlucky incident that involved Seven reciting the Gangrels mother, him smashing her into a dumpster and then her ripping his eyes out in front of a gang of human kids lead to her first violation of the masquerade, and the initial meeting with the Camarilla. The impractical parts of her gift, specifically the occasional crescendos of madness have led to multiple violations of the masquerade by now, and in theory she's dead twice already. [REDACTED SECTION] is considered as valuable and has given her a few more second chances than she deserves, however the authorities patience has run out and one more major fuck-up was promised to be her last. She was also placed in a special operations unit - she knew nothing about them or their purpose, and they knew just enough to realize that another exposure caused by Seven could also be their end.

Training and general talents: Seven's not particularly fond of complicated systems like computers or lockpicks. Her physical strength is well-developed, but she'd avoid melee combat if possible, relying on obfuscate and dementation. She can handle blades and firearms sufficiently good, and weapons of choice would be a katana in one hand, a simple handgun in the other though she wouldn't carry those weapons around. It'd be too much of a hassle for her troubled mind to look after more than one weapon at a time. And her malkavian way of convincing people often enough solves a conflict without the need for bullets and blades. She's well able to pay attention to crucial details, but may also see them where there are none, where some have been or where they -will- be. If not in conflict with herself, she can be rather elaborate (seductive even) and knows what people need to hear instinctively (probably cheating with her weak albeit existing link to the cobweb). Her Auspex abilities are basically non-existant and she couldn't tell if there's a person in the next room even if they were talking to her loudly, as she doubts everything she can't see and/or feel. Also, her attention span is naturally short so letting her guard a door or object would be a really bad idea, she would probably get bored and try to destroy the object, or remove the door and carry it home to guard it under more comfortable circumstances.

Name: Varin Soralin

Apparent Age: 26

Gender: Male

Clan: Brujah

Loyality: Nominal, He sees the Camarilla as the lesser of two evils; Has been accused of being a Promethean in the past, a true yet unproven accusation

Appearance: Varin stands at an imposing 6’3’’, but unlike some of his more, unsavory, clan brothers he is not a muscle bound giant of a man. Instead his has a more normal build, though at the higher end of strength without the bulk. His face has a few small scars dotted around it, the largest of which begins at the tear-duct of his right eye and traces its way to his right cheekbone. His nose is slightly crooked in the middle, evidence of a break that was re-broken to allow it to set.
His light brown hair is kept at a medium/short length and is usually unkempt, though it somehow becomes straight no matter what is done to it as the day goes on. For clothing Varin keeps a simple wardrobe, jeans, a plane dark grey t-shirt, combat boots, sometimes s shoulder holster, and sometimes a hooded leather jacket. On the back of his neck he has a tattoo of two serpents wrapped around the cross bar of the Brujah crest, one going left off of the crest, the other right. The serpents curve around his neck until they reach his shoulders where they wind their way down each arm, their head resting on the back of his hands. The one on his right hand has its eyes closed and clutches a sword in its mouth, the one on the left has its eyes open and clutches a scroll in its mouth.

Behavior: Calm, Varin strike a balance between the members of his clan and the idealistic elders. Instead he strives to be like the Philosopher Soldiers of old, finding comfort in philosophy and books as well as the field of combat and blood. This has tempered his mind and helped him to suppress the hot blood that has made the Brujah infamous to the other Clans. Now this calm control doesn't mean he has lost his killing edge, if anything its made him a better killer. Its just that now, instead of a quick spontaneous eruption of passion and anger, he is now more like a rolling storm, powerful and deadly, though he may still fall prone to the berserker like rage that has gripped the Brujah during combat, when this happens the storm of seething anger becomes a red tinted world where the only thing that matters is that the Offender(s) must die.
Though he knows the Carthaginian dream is long dead, what it stood for has not yet. In this Varin holds to some of the Promethean ideals concerning Mortals . Such as "guiding" them, and protecting them from some of the more predatory Cainites, if the needs arise. This is his drive, his passion, the drive that gives him purpose. It is the drive for something better, something more.

Background: 19th of December, 1944 was the day Varin died. He died to a cacophony of gunshots and artillery shells, the light cracks and earth shattering explosions playing off of each other like some macabre symphony. Yet almost none of that mattered as he sat up against the side of his foxhole, his life ebbed out through the multiple bullet wounds and shrapnel tears. Seconds became hours, as he tried franticly again and again to crawl out, to crawl somewhere other than that god forsaken hole in the ground, but again and again he failed, gritting his teeth in frustration he tried one last time. This time as he clawed at the frozen ground and roots he got hold and finally pulled himself out. That’s when he heard it, laughing. “You finally did it, eh boy?” The speaker was a man, not far off of Varins right shoulder, though it was below freezing he still wore the normal American army fatigues. Varin tried to reply, what came out was a gurgle as he slumped down for what e expected to be the last time. The next thing he knew he was being picked up, the man had him around the waist and was hoisting Varin up with one arm “I don’t hope dying is on your agenda there boy. I might need you, besides we need to replace Thomas.” The strange man dragged him to a snow pile flanked by what looked like two large felled trees. As the man reached out and knocked the semi conscious Varin realized that the snow pile was actually a carefully constructed, and well hidden, den like structure. As they entered into the small hut Varin was deposited on floor. In the dim light, the human made out another figure other than the one who had carried him. “Demitri, this one is half dead.” One of the shadowy figures said
“I know darling, I know, but that can change. Did for me, remember?” He replied half jokingly
“All I remember was finding you with a musket ball through your left lung.” The other replied “In any case, why him?”
“I, dunno, must have seen something I liked.” After this Varin began to convulse as his vision blurred, his breath coming in short sporadic bursts as he finally began to slip away “Please Serrana? You always do say that war makes good Brujah.”
“Fine. But the prince won’t like this, not that you care.” The other figure said as she glided over to Varin. Varin at that point was slipping away, his vision going dark as he felt the cool touch of something on his neck.
He awoke soon after, wounds totally healed, and to the faces of Demitri and Serrana. He soon learned what had transpired, Serrana was the eldest of the two and Demitri’s sire. Demitri had been turned be Serrana after he had been wounded as a Prussian mercenary in the American Revolutionary War. Varin stayed with the two Brujah through the war and for about a decade afterword, Demitri training him in weaponry because as he said “A Brujah that cannot fight, is a dead Brujah. You will fight and you will live.”, and Serrana training him in the philosophy of old and the disciplines that come with the blood because “A Brujah must know how to fight with more than steel, they must be more. Or they are nothing more than disposable pawns.”
After this decade they moved back to America, working at various jobs within the Camarilla, usually as a guard of some sort. It was here he began to learn about the ancient Brujah and the story of Carthage, becoming enthralled with it Varin began to read more and more into the Prometheans, going as far as adopting some of their practices and teachings. His breach of the Masquerade came when he learned that Demitri and Serrana had both been driven into Torpor by unknown agents. Varin did what any sensible Brujah would do when he learned his oldest friend and sire were driven into the death-like sleep. He lashed out. The long controlled passion and anger came flooding forth, by the end of the night he had mangled two other Vampires and used the dread gaze on a human, causing them to run down a crowded street screaming about creatures.

Training and general talents: Varin transcends the stereotype of the Brujah brawler, using his skill in the Presence domain he can appear as a great force to be revered or a storm to be feared, he uses this to keep his opponents off balance, unnerving them, or simply terrifying them. This mixed with his Potence makes Varin a frightening force, even his Celerity factors in, giving him a certain grace when fighting. In combat he generally uses either his handgun, or the two folding axes that he uses with practiced efficiency and lethality.
Not a player of the political chess game, most would see Varin as an easy target, someone with no ambition, an easy target to use and discard. In this they would be wrong, although he doesn't play their game he has thrown his own lot and skill into an older game, and so views the subtle working of the Camarilla with no small measure of distaste. While he can use one, he is not that talented with computers. He can lock-pick most locks, provided he has the tools. And can repair, clean and upkeep most weapons. Like most of his clan stealth is a..... problem. Even though he is gifted with some grace from his celerity, the urge to fight an opponent head on, with savage honor, has always been on the forefront of any conflict hes been in. Finally, he is an accomplished Kindred scholar who has knack for the stories of old, this may have something to do with the "Book Of Nod" he keeps in a hidden lock-box, away from prying Camarilla eyes.

Name: Lloyd Haythorn

Apparent Age: 22 (really is 45)

Gender: Male

Clan: Gangrel

Loyalty: Like most Gangrel Lloyd is fiercely independent and strives to be on his own, not really caring of the debates between the Camarilla and the Anarchs.

Appearance: Lloyd has messy ash black hair that falls just below his shoulders, thick eye brows and a soul strip on his chin. He stands at 6'4 in height, though he finds himself crouching on all fours quite often like most Gangrel. Lloyd has a fit body build and has incredibly pale skin like most Kindred. Both of his upper arms have the tribal tattoo of a panther chasing it's tail on them, his back having a panther pouncing tattooed on it. Lloyd would never wear clothes if that was an option but as is he makes use of old T-shirts and jeans shorts he manages to find, though trying to get shoes on the man is a task only Cain himself could accomplish. What sets Lloyd apart from other Cainites in the area of looks is his animalistic features, a trait common to Gangrel who had frenzied. His eyes are a bright yellow color with his pupils being feline like slits and each of his teeth are sharpened points, his main fangs being longer than the others. His back has a thick black pelt of fur running down it's center. His fingers and toes are pointed with sharp claws, which grow when he taps into the beast.




Behavior: Lloyd on the surface is what you'd expect to see from your stereotypical Gangrel, the lone savage that would not hesitate to rip apart a kine or kindred that entered his territory with out permission, and in all honesty that is who he truly is at heart. He takes pride in his clan but only to the point that if it is the choice of his unlife or the name sake of his clan he'd choose his own secretary each time. He, like most Gangrel, holds great value of the art of the spoken word, often telling stories of his past exploits to the kindred that he deems worthy, and has respect in those who can regale him in a good tale, provided they can back up their words. Lloyd is close to his beast even by the standards of the Gangrel, not only respecting it but openly clamming a form of love for it, and would spend every hour of everyday in his Protean form if he could, which he almost archived. If asked Lloyd wouldn't hesitate to admit that he prefers the company of beasts over that of a kindred, which has lead to rumors of how far does his animal love goes.

Background: While Lloyd was alive he was a loner, having no real human interaction besides with his abusive parents who brought him into the world with no means to raise him. He was never what you'd consider extraordinary when he was among the living, not having the brains or the brawns to leave a impact on anyone, though their was one skill that he did excel at one thing he found true solace in, hunting. He was nine when he was exposed to the act of tracking and killing one's prey when he went on a hunting trip with his father, it undoubtedly being the only kind act the drunkard ever showed the boy, and quickly became fascinated with the art. Lloyd practiced his hunting skills in the forest his family's hovel of a house was built by. He'd sneak out during his parents drunken stupors and track everything from raccoons to deer that wandered the woods. He didn't find the pleasure in the kill like most, but rather the hunt it self, the thought of his prey slipping away gave him a type of high that he never experienced. Lloyd to came to the realization that he would be better off away from the poor excuses of parents he had and fending for himself, so at the ripe age of eighteen he abandoned his life and set forth on what would be a better life. Lloyd settled in what was the outskirts of L.A and for four years hunted the forests for his food, only ever venturing into the city for the supplies he couldn't provide himself, little did he know he was being watched by a whole different kind of hunter.

It was a dark rainy night and Lloyd was returning to his shack from the day's hunting when he was killed. He entered his makeshift home to be greeted by the sight of a young woman sitting on his bed. She couldn't of been a day over twenty and she looked like she had been wandering the woods for days, being covered from head to toe in layers of mud and her hair being tangled into knots, the thing that unnerved Lloyd was the aura she seemed to give off, something that told Lloyd she was something more than human. There wasn't much time for Lloyd to be in shock before the woman pounced on him and placed the kiss that all Kindred know so well. He awoke to a empty room and the words "Stay out of the light." carved into his wall by what he assumed to be claws. So began the unlife of Lloyd.

Lloyd's first nights were like all new Gangrel's, confusing, tough, and nearly unsurvivable. He spent a complete month unaware that he was a vampire, surviving on the pure instinct of the beast alone. Luckily though Lloyd was one of the few Gangrel that lasted long enough for his sire to return and begin his training and introduction into vampiric society. The training of a Gangrel has always been rather difficult for two main reasons, the first being the desire of the sire wanting their childe to learn on their own and the second being the need for the childe to unlock the primal part of their mind they had fought against all their living days. But Lloyd had found tapping into his beast rather easy, even enjoyable, to the surprise of his sire. He spent little under a year with his sire before she deemed him worthy to leave and make his own way in his unlife.

Lloyd spent two decades hunting the kine of L.A and retreating back to the forest during the day were he'd manage to evade the local Garou with relative ease. It wasn't until he turned thirty-five that Lloyd went through the phase all Gangrel are destined to go through, the Red Surrender. This phase in the Gangrel's unlife is where the calling of the beast the strongest. Though he'd be hard press to admit it he openly accepted it's call and succumbed to the beast with ease. To say that Lloyd went into a frenzy would be like saying a kindred would get a bad sunburn if they went out during the day. He went of a three month rampage across the city, attacking everything from the lone wander in the streets to groups of campers in the woods. Lloyd was the origin to the local myth "The L.A Demon" that made the headlines. His path of destruction didn't stop until he slaughtered the people of a formal party that was being held in the woods near were he was sleeping that night, unknown to him there was a local Camarilla official in attendance of the party. It was the final death of the official that turned the Camarilla onto Lloyd's trail and stopped him. They gave him a choice, face his final death or join some sort of team and wash away his violations. Needless to say Lloyd's unlife is now in the hands of a group of kindred he doesn't know, wish him luck.

Training and general talents: Lloyd is a deadly force in close quarters, mainly do to his claws which are comparable to a Garou's. If he must use a weapon though he prefers hunting knives, he always keeps one strapped to his right leg, for their quick and messy effects. He is pretty skilled with a rifle from his hunting days but he'd prefer to get up close and personal whenever possible. Lloyd had no social skills even before he was dead, so no one should be expecting him to woo or persuade anyone. Though his less than human features seem to unnerve some allowing him to intimidate others. His years of hunting gave him great investigation skill, being able to track almost anyone. Lloyd whole heartily hate computers, he'd wouldn't even carry a cell phone if he could get away with it, and if they cause him trouble he wouldn't think twice about smashing one. He isn't to skilled with lock picking, he'd rather just bust down a door. He is rather stealthy from his hunting experience, being able to go completely silent when needed. Like all Kindred his true skill lies with his disciplines, namely his Protean and Animalism. Lloyd is able to commune with almost all the animals he encounters, though if they listen to him is a different thing all together. He his able to shift into his Protean form at will but it is almost like a frenzy like state, being difficult to remain in control. Lloyd is able to sleep under the ground like some Gangrel during the day, but once he is under he doesn't know what's happening around him. He has only ever done it once before but he managed to calm another vampire's frenzied beast.

Name:
Jasmine LaVey (Current Alias, former names being well known in circles of Toreador music critics and musicians. She tends to take names from flowers: Rose, Lilly, Lavander, Etc.)

Apparent Age: 
19

Sex: 
Female

Clan: 
Toreador

Loyalty:
??? (formerly Toreador/Camarilla)

Appearance: 
Her outfits are all black and make her look more like a Brujah than a Toreador. Ripped jeans, leather jackets, band t-shirts and spiked dog collars suit her artform, though. And they compliment her slender body in a way. But as dark and intimidating as her outfits are, they are often accented with expensive jewelery that is very flash yet still fits with the overall gothic look..
Straight black hair frames her pale face. Her skin looks soft and gentle, her nose is small, pierced in her left nostril with a garnet stud and slightly upturned. And her lips are full. Meanwhile, her eyes are an intense bluegrey, like soulless gems of ice. Her eybrows are thin and her right brow is pierced by five silver rings.
She stands 5 feet 4 inches tall, 128 lbs. Her chest is on the larger side, but she'd never make it in porn. She also has a thin waist and hips, making her look slightly underdeveloped. She'd get carded a lot if not for all the tattoos. From the neck down, she's covered in tattoos. Images of dark, demonic woodcuts, medieval scenes of witchcraft and warfare, and old heraldic motifs adorn her skin.

Behavior:
Brooding and chaotic. Moody would be a bit of an understatement. This girl seems to have constant PMS. She almost seems more like a Malkavian than a Toreador, but she isn't really insane. Yet.
In truth, she's been safe and subtle for far too long. Playing the game of the Camarilla often requires hiding ones's true nature. While she has an immense talent for that. It's taken it's toll. She has grown jaded, bitter and cynical.
Once, she was good at playing the wild thing. She could orchestrate pure expressions of dark emotions to fool the criminals, the Anarchs and the Sabbat to earn their trust. But now that darkness is real. It's eating away at her and she can't just turn it off, like she used to.
She's full of anger and despair now. But she lacks motivation and finds it difficult to care about anything outside of her music. However, she no longer seems to fear Final Death or any form of torture or imprisonement.

Background:
Jasmine was embraced in London sometime over fortyfive years ago. She was always a wild, rock'n'roll rebel. But also an extremely talented Guitarist. She's played in more underground rock and metal bands than anyone realizes. From classic rock to heavy metal to punk to gothic rock to death metal, she's left her mark on many new musicians. And music is the one constant in her somewhat mysterious history.
In 1968 her Sire sent her to Canada to help sort out clan disputes over rights and ownership at a bar where new musicians were constantly being discovered. She did decent detective work for the Camarilla.  Eventually she made her way to San Francisco, Dallas, New Orleans and Chicago before being called back to England in the early eighties. Her Sire needed her to investigate a strange string of terrorist activities linked to Sabbat. Her heavy metal persona made her an ideal spy to investigate the Cainites.
This mission lead her back to the states. In New York she discovered a plot that could have devastated her Sire's city. After completing mission after mission under the guise of being an artist, she took some time off to just be and artist. She played in underground metal and goth bands across the USA. She carefully cultivated the newly emerging art of Neoclassical Shred Guitar. And she found a mortal woman who captured her heart. After years she realized that the love between them was no passing thing, no false idolatry, but pure and honest love. She petitioned her sire and the local prince and wasgiven permission to embrace the girl.
They were quite the pair. A guitarist and a music critic. Spies and infiltrators, always doing their part to aid the clan and the Camarilla. But three years ago, her childe was killed. And she hasn't been the same since.
Heartbreak has given way to apathy. The woman no longer pays heed to the rule of any sect. She cares not for the Masquerade, the politics of the undead or even her own safety. Indeed, she's come dangerously close to Final Death several times in the past three years and those who've known her seem to think that she's looking forward to the idea.
Needless to say, she hasn't been invited to any Toreador parties lately.

Training and general talents: 
Fast and subtle wether on stage or on the hunt. Jasmine owe some of her quickness and precision to Celerity and Auspex, but the rest is raw talent. 
Physically, she's not very strong, but she's fast, agile, graceful as well as energetic. She can keep active for long periods at a time. Socially, she's got a knack for making people like her. She's charming. Other than that, she's average socally. But Mentally she's sharpened. Her intellect and analysis are top notch, but the speed at which she processes information and responds to it which is truly masterful.
More streetwise than you're average Toreador, she's good at stealth, acting, lying, sneaking, picking locks and intimidating. She's absolutely deadly with a pistol or a crossbow, and good at jumping and dodging.
She knows how to investigate, play politics, read people, and repair musical eqiupment.
But her gift is for Music. Not only can she play incredibly fast and clean, switching from tapping to picking to sweep arppegios with technical perfection and creative flair, but she knows how read and write music, how to orchestrate and arrange songs and movements and can expound in detail upon the virtues and flaws of great classical composers and moldern rock idols alike.

I'm really enjoying those CS's so far. So much good stuff to work with, plot is being re-arranged by the minute! Can't wait to see the rest, can't wait to get us started.

Will get my sheet up later today, just working on my background for the most part

there we are Varin is done, hope he's alright.

I like it! The level of detail used in his background sort of makes me regret that Seven's background is completely unknown :<

Unless I'm horribly mistaken, I believe we lost our Ventrue. Which is a terrible shame. Considering to start this up with the four of us, anyone mind sharing their thoughts on that? I don't want this to get lost in the build-up phase since I've scribbled half of my notebook full of ideas and plot parts by now, but having a noble with us would add some nice contrast...

Hmm, final say is up to you but Im willing to start whenever.

I'm okay with starting now but like Urukhai said it's up to you

I MUST JOIN THIS RP!!!!

Shifter_Master said
I MUST JOIN THIS RP!!!!

Well, then get writing a CS! I'm trying to adjust my plot as much as possible to the players so I'd preferably not start up and have you join halfway through...and we're quite eager to get going by now.

Working on that now, I'm snagging the Tremere spot, as I'm pretty sure Camarilla clans are the only ones allowed.

Without trying to sound hostile, I'll have to set an ultimatum to this. I want to get started, and you had the entire weekend to write a post. I'll post the IC opener in roughly 6 hours.

And off we go. This is a disproportionately long post, and not to be taken as the standard quantity of text per contribution. For getting the initial part done, I'm using a lot of monologue. Sorry for not giving you guys the chance to properly introduce yourself IC (yet), that's all part of the flight plan.
Also, I'll seperate NPC-ish parts of my posts and IC-ish parts as done here for now - might come up with a better solution at some point.

alright I will start work on something

Post should be up sometime today

Sounds great. In the meantime I'm gonna bug the hell out of the other two to remind them that this thing is alive.

I'm working on it as we speak