[CHAR] Our Final Nights: A World of Darkness Roleplay

[Sini]

Jonathan Corbett
(formerly Jaoseph de Corbet), also known as Johnny Rook
Age: 909 / 30 (forever 31)

Species: Kindred, 7th or 8th generation Ventrue (sources differ and Jonathan is unlikely to debunk useful mystery)

Blood type: Being embraced in a time of war and at the site of a siege, has directly determined the herd he may feed upon. It has to be someone who has served as a soldier or policeman/-woman, or done bloody violence, and to a lesser extent someone who has wielded a weapon.

Personality

Personality:
Jonathan has been around for a long time, yet does not rank as an Elder in the traditional sense. His period of ‘leave’ over the past 300 years marks him more as an Ancilla. Yes, he has his own modest powerbase and agenda, but is more focused on upholding the traditions of Camarilla. This is all tempered by his own sense of what is right and Ventrue heritage. Jonathan believes in order and privilege, things which support his unlifestyle. From his time as an Anglo-Norman knight and baron, or as Mithras’ aedile and enforcer, there are certain things he feels entitled to do, claim and own. Above all, disloyalty and vulgarity disgust him, and manners are everything.

While other Ventrue have capitalised on the changes of the modern world, swapping out feudalism and nobility for majority shares and backroom politics, Jonathan oft-times finds it hard to do so. He can be set in his ways. His expectations can be outdated or anachronistic. Indeed, power and money go hand in hand, but true power comes from strength and a sense of duty. Instead, ironically perhaps, he sees organised crime and fringe-groups like motorcycle gangs for example as a more ‘kindred’ continuation of the feudalism and patronage of his formative decades. While sympathetic to some of such outlaws, he has as yet not got into bed with them. Jonathan prefers making his own way, and seeks a level of independence while remaining loyal to the Six Traditions and the Masquerade.

He has strayed from the Road of Kings, and dabbled gleefully in the Road of Sin, travelled extensively and met great kine and Kindred alike. While he adheres to a personal code constructed piecemeal from life and death’s experiences, Jonathan is a true Ventrue at unbeating heart with his own look on unlife, but loyal to the principles of the Masquerade. Superior beings they might be, Kindred must protect themselves from lesser ones. With an illustrious bloodline like his comes responsibility for those you claim to rule. Camarilla and the Masquerade, to Jonathan, represents security in a stratified and existential way. He upholds the latter if not necessarily the former. Jonathan himself represents an old-school vampire domain, though it is much larger than the old Rule of 1,001 Nights, officiously if not officially part of Camarilla offering some direly needed stability to volatile Los Angeles. Disappointed and disillusioned by his elders, he wants to create something of his own.

Biography

Biography:
Born in 1111 in the night of the thirtieth of April and the first of May, also known as Walpurgis Night, Jaoseph de Corbet’s birth was auspicious. The Saint was supposed to protect against a number of infantile diseases as well as witchcraft, and indeed Jaoseph survived into adulthood in spite of skyrocketing medieval child mortality rate.

Growing up at a time when state and Church frequently clashed over jurisdiction and consolidation of (secular) power, young Jaoseph was put through the crucible that was a Norman’s upbringing. Fifty years on since William’s conquest of England, and with his son Jonathan I Beauclerc firmly ensconced upon the throne, none of the rigours of knightly training had vanished. From a young age, family values and the ideas of legacy were instilled in Jaoseph, as he was a scion of a noble house descendant of Norse settlers which then won fame for supplying one of William the Conqueror’s companions.

Beauclerc’s reign would not last forever, however, and with the death of a king and a lack of an heir apparent, England descended into chaos. The period during which Jaoseph came of age was aptly named “The Anarchy” in which England and Normandy tore themselves apart in a dynastic conflict that would last until 1153. Jaoseph, however, officially died in 1142 during the Siege of Oxford. It was not an arrow, sword or spear that lethally pierced his skin, but fangs.

Mithras had awoken after a battle was fought over his resting place in 1069, although he had not returned to London until 1085. When he returned, he found the Romans gone, replaced by the Normans and the Cainites ruled over by a triumvirate of elders. Attempts to rebuild his cult and influence initially met stiff resistance from other Cainites, but through subterfuge and manipulation, he was able to clear his path to power, eventually regaining acceptance as the lord of the Court of Avalon just as mortal society stabilized under Jonathan II in the 1150s. Mithras re-ascended as monarch of the Baronies of Avalon in 1154. It had taken him nigh on a century to reclaim pride and place.

It was during this process that Mithras and his coterie shopped around for prospects worthy to bolster their ranks. One of which they found in the Anglo-Norman Jaoseph de Corbet. Jaoseph, embraced by a childe of Marcus Verus (he himself a childe of Mithras), easily adapted to the semi-feudal society that characterised the midnight aristocracy.

Forever pushed to prove worthy of his adventurous heritage, he participated in the Second Crusade as an agent of Mithras (1147) as initiation into his new unlife and spent considerable time in Outremer and Constantinople. He even met the venerate Belisarius. In 1170 Jaoseph had returned to England to aid the alliance between the Toreador and Ventrue as to oust the Einherjar from Ireland. The attempt was only semi-successful, and he spent the following decades as an itinerant between Constantinople, Rome, Aachen, ... Later he served as an enforcer of Avalon which pitted him against political opponents like the Scottish Toreador or Mithras’ own “vassals”, as well as against the more feral Welsh Gangrel vampires or Lupines stalking the countryside. Jaoseph went on to soldier in the War of the Princes against the rebellious Angevin Toreador (starting in 1204). Operating as a go-between betwixt mortal and Kindred politics and society suited him. A first rift opened between Jaoseph and Mithras when the latter opened his privy council to vampires from across the baronies, yet left his own supporters unrewarded.

When the fifteenth century was in full swing, Jaoseph grew increasingly angry and disgruntled. The Anarch Revolt, the sundering within vampire society, the creation of Sabbat, the Convention of Thorns,… all these grated upon his nerves. When the Conspiracy of Isaac ended not in the scouring of the Giovanni from existence but rather in their elevation, Jaoseph was outraged. Mithras kept the Baronies largely out of Hardestadt’s Camarilla, though he accepted its basic tenets. The Blood Laws of Avalon came to represent the Six Traditions of Camarilla in their own way.

For Jaoseph, the damage had nevertheless been done. Mithras was losing control over his own fiefdoms, and while loyal to the Prince of London, Jaoseph started to look for something more than servitude. He was nearing an age and level of strength where he could make his own choices in Kindred culture. A first sign of this was remaining rather aloof during the tribulations wracking Mithras’ court and England as a whole in the 1500s and 1600s. Though he was pleased and involved with the 1693 Treaty of Durham which saw Ventrue supremacy established over the Toreador in Britain, Jaoseph decided to retire.

Over the next three centuries he spent time in torpor or leisurely travel, only occasionally visiting the British Isles lest he be dragged back into its political web. As such, he missed the boat during the Victorian Age quite literally, and did not set up his own territory unlike many of his peers. Even much younger vampires spread across the globe, creating fiefdoms of their own whilst he slumbered. Time and progress left him behind.

In more recent decades, specifically since the Summer of Love in 1967, Jaoseph resurfaced with renewed energy. It was time to catch up with the world. Drawn from torpor by the energy of the buzzing, sun-soaked West Coast, he set his hungry re-opened eyes on Los Angeles. A new world and future awaited, and so Jaoseph de Corbet received a much-needed update and changed into Jonathan Corbett. Another alias of his, Johnny Rook, became less known in the penthouses and exclusive clubs of L.A., but spread like whispered wildfire through the back alleys. In spite of his apparent adaptation to the times, he has had a hard time ditching his feudal and noble outlook on life.

What brings him to the City of Angels? Some echo of the old frontier spirit? The search for a manifest destiny? Legacy and a cause? A small kingdom of his own? Other than the rich hunting grounds and staking a claim for himself, does he even know? At the very least, L.A. offers a chance to build something free from the yoke of those that left him unrewarded for centuries.

NPCs

NPCs: TBA as needed.

Territory

Notable locations or possessions:
Jonathan landed in the Westside of L.A., making a haunt for himself in the eastern portion of the Santa Monica Mountains, north of Santa Monica itself. Largely, his sway extends outwards from the Topanga State Park. Northernmost, the Ventrue’s domain runs along Route 101, between the intersections of Route 27 and Interstate 405. In fact, one could in general terms drive along the borders of what is considered his stomping grounds by following said Route 27 south until it hits the Pacific Coast, then turn east on the Pacific Highway. It is the south and southeast where things get tricky, as that is where he shares a border with the Santa Monica Anarch baron.

Shirking up against the Voerman Twins, a clearly defined boundary was necessary. After civilised if peculiar and tiresome discussions, San Vincente Boulevard, 26th Street, Montana and Centinel Avenue, and Wilshire Boulevard demarcated the border between Voerman and Corbett territory. As such, Brentwood and Pacific Palisades comprise his preferred hunting grounds, with careful extension across Interstate 405 into the Westwood territory, as to have access to both UCLA and WLA VA Hospital. The latter supplies him with the sort of blood he needs to sustain himself with. He is very territorial where the Hospital is concerned, as it is essential to his survival and a linchpin in his existence.

The Topanga hills, then, offers Jonathan a forested and secluded area to retreat to in case things turn sour, while the Getty Center as well as Villa allows him to indulge in his taste for art and culture. This, paired with the park visitor numbers, local demographics, Sunset Boulevard tourists and variety of country clubs assures him of a steady supply sufficiently educated and interesting company.

Will add some more about his stances/attitudes on topics or factions.

[Ezekiel]

Cereiella Faewyld - Cara Fennic

Age: 19/19
Species: Sidhe Changeling
Court: Seelie
House: Eiluned
Legacies: Regent/Rake
Powers/Skill: As one of the Sidhe, returned from the Dreaming in recent years, Cara boasts the typical powers of Fae nobility in the form of the Soverign arts, able to inspire, or force, loyalty and protocol in both kithe and others beyond. Something of a taboo among Changeling society since the civil wars which set Noble against Commoner, they are not powers she relies on, nor does she take pleasure in using. Of far greater enjoyment to the capricious noble is her skill in chicanery, the befuddlement and manipulation of others in a far less direct means. Deemed a little beneath the nobility by others of her kind, she has mastered this art none the less above all others. Finally, as befits a Noble seeking to establish far-flung freehold, Cara possesses some skill in the art of Wayfaring, able to travel the Trods of her people, across the world and into the Dreaming.
Appearance: Cara Fennic stands as a human being of great poise, silver-white hair that would drape down her back often tightly styled and maintained. Her grey-white eyes are surprisingly emotive for such a cold colour, although when tested or displeased her focus often becomes unbreaking, the guise of joviality she wears to temper her frost stripped away. She is athletic of build, with a modest, if not waifish, hourglass figure with not quite enough height to be average in length. Her attired ranges from expensive workout gear to bright and eccentric evening gowns, although she certainly has a taste for the expensive. Whatever the case may be, whether it is in accessories or makeup, there is always a dash of purple about her.

Fae Form

Artist: deviantart.com/den3221

Cereiella Faewyld is a being of great supernatural beauty, the glamour that touches all Changelings almost oppressively strong as is the standard with capable scions of the nobility. The almost-human aspects of her form are skin to her human guise but exaggerated beyond them, her hair shines like spun silver, the cold marble of her eyes sparkling in the light, her body formed like the goddess myths of ancient civilisations long swept away by time. None of this compares to the eye-watering sensation of beholding her wings, great purple fae-wings of only the most blessed of her kind, made almost of raw glamour itself, the magic of her arts working to a far greater effect on those who can perceive them.

Personality:

Cara has always had her differences with her fellow Sidhe of the Eiluned Household. While her kind are usually haughty in the extreme, reserved, and focused on the higher arts, Cara feels a deep sense of caring for the world and its people, both Kithe and otherwise. Born into the post-Evavesence world of Chaos, Bedlam and Banality, she has an affection for commoner kithe and humanity which borders on the rebellious tenants of the Shadow Court and more positive Unseelie teachings. Topping all of these, is a sense of wanderlust and exploration, to explore the Trods, to find new experiences and delve deeply into the Dreaming, while never losing her footing back on the mortal realm.

None of this is to say she entirely lacks the superior nature of the Arcadian Sithe, she has, of course, grown up (both as a human and a kithe) in great privilege and taught to wield all aspects of her being as weapons of charm, wit and intrigue. She is supremely self-confident, bordering on foolhardy bravery and a sense of self-invincibility and particularly when her Unseelie nature draws dominant, willing to pursue her whims and desire whatever the cost may be. Her love and affection does not mean she fails to understand the simple truth of reality that the Arcadian Sidhe are born to rule, and she is among them.

Biography:

When the events of the Evanescence took place, bringing yet more Arcadian Sidhe back into the Mortal Realm from the dreaming, they too had to begin shielding their Fae souls from the dangers of Banality within mortal guises. Many were older Fae, taking host-forms without developing the attachments a Kithe generally has for their human body. This was not the case for the nascent Sidhe brought along with the elders, as was the case of Cereiella, one of the first Arcadian Sithe of this new generation to be born and fostered with humanity, as the Changelings are. Befitting of noble of her household, Cereiella's soul was placed in the child of East Coast Billionaires, their fortunes made in shipping long ago, now reinvested into the technology age. As with many of her kind, Cereiella (known as Cara in her human guise) underwent a chrysalis very young, the sheltered nature of her life encouraging the Glamour within her, and she was still a child when she was first allowed to renter the Seelie Court. Here she learned of her event greater privilege and the world of wonders open to her. Still, while her human parents may have been extraordinarily wealthy and doted on her, her family had been large and enough effort was made for her to appreciate her life and those less fortunate that she did not take as wholeheartedly to the regimented life of court. That and her fondness of Childish mischief bled into her mastery of glamour. Unlike her peers she did not simply seek to understand the greater mysteries of the world and the Dreaming, she wished to experience them, and to play a fair few pranks along the way.

The young Changeling was charming enough however that this slight alteration from the behaviour expected of her was treated as a quirk of her personality, an eccentricity that made her company all the more enticing, rather than a scandal to be crushed. Her willingness to discover herself was even useful for the Household. While Commoner Retainers are more than capable, sometimes it is useful to have one of the Sidhe in location to guide matters. In her human life, Cara prepared the means for her to be able to delve into these long trips of discovery, while maintaining the lifestyle to which she was accustom. The young woman, supported by her family contacts, started out as an actress and model, the former predominantly in matters of theatre, the glamour in her voice now doubt pushing her performances well into the higher tier of what is possible for humankind. As her mortal career began to ascend, this coincided with the opportunity of a true quest she had been looking for. Some time following the Evanescence, a dark mirror occurred, far more localised, but all-encompassing. The human city known as Los Angeles was beset with a surge of Banality, a font of disbelief so strong it banished all Changelings from the city and shattered their Freeholds, only the greatest remaining in their dormant state, the life of their glamour flickering low. As with any strike of Banality, the eradication of the Changelings likewise clouded their memory within the minds of other Changelings. All that remained was the pang of loss. When the human Cara Fennic was offered her first role in Hollywood, Cereiella leapt at the opportunity. She would venture to the land gripped by Banality, restore the Freeholds and recover the lost Changelings. She would restore Los Angeles to glamour, surely the youngest Changeling to ever undertake such a task since High King David united the Commoners and Nobility once more.

NPCs:

Several Commoner Changelings who have travelled with her to restore the LA Freeholds.
To be written.

[Ruby]

Name: Eva
Age: 300+ (Appears late 20s.)
Species: Kindred
Powers: Auspex, Celerity, Presence, Dominate, Fortitude, Thaumaturgy
Clan: Toreador
Generation: 5th through diablerie.

Biography:

A descendant of the lost Mayan tribes, daughter to a tribal shaman father who dabbled in tranditional magic and healing arts. Eva has never gone into detail about what happened, but to those closest to her she has mentioned that she watched her childhood home burn as the sun set on her childhood. It wasn't long after that the Spanish took her from a field of fruit trees. They demanded navigation and translation, to say nothing of what else men demand of young women. But after her family's demise in shadow and fire, the child Eva was at the time just could do nothing else but play along with the Spanish.

By the time she snapped out of it, she was on a ship at sea. Eva rallied others taken from the lands around her home, and eventually they escaped even as the Spanish ship burnt and sank. The details of the story remain fuzzy to her, but she remembers being the only one to make it to land. She remembers watching three others she escaped with drown in the black warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. She wound up on what would become Galveston Island, where she stayed at a local coastal fort of earth and timber. The men were little kinder there than the Spanish had been, and Eva moved on quickly.

Eva falls in with several local tribes, and it's through them she learns of other Spanish moving through the territory only but a year after leaving Galveston Island, headed North. The Spanish are shocked to meet a woman who can speak local tongues, foreign tongues, and enough of their own Spanish to understand. Though the Spanish notes that the "native woman" was initially shy and hesitant, she presented a unique boon to ther expedition, and the leaders of the Portola expedition decided they were better off with her. After swearing that no one would be allowed to hurt her, Eva began her role as the go-between for the Spanish with the natives they encountered on their way to California.

In California Eva has a direct hand in establishing Spanish mission communities all over southern California, but most notably San Diego and Los Angeles. This fact plays an immense role in Eva's control over the Free States, as her influence can literally be traced back to the origins of many cities. Her first meeting with the Kindred of the area was a trick of fate, more than a planned and plotted event. She was traveling with a Spanish friar when a wind storm forced them to the nearest settlement: the rancho of Don Sebastian Juan Dominguez, unaware of 5th Generation Toreador on the run Christopher Houghton.

As was his custom, Houghton would develop a crush. Both from Eva's power of presence and personality, from her charm, but of the stories she told--of her escape, of her survival, of her helping the Spanish to setup so much of California already. As the night went long the two talked of what could be made of the valleys they overlooked in moonlight now. Of what could be; it was there, that night, that the original idea of Los Angeles was conceived. Before the sun rose, Houghton embraced Eva, convinced she was his missing piece. While others close to Christopher would come and go, Eva would stay with him, the mother figure he never had, and never had to fear.

Los Angeles grew into a major city, and before long the Kindred duo were looking for other outlets. Neither is sure who was first, Christopher or Eva, but they both agree that once the other introduced them to motion pictures...that was it. They had found their new calling. Los Angeles and it's surrounding areas they would leave to lieutenants and mortal pawns, stepping in when needed, but from then on the majority of their attention was on this new artform. It was on "Hollywoodland"--or Hollywood, as Eva famously shortened it one evening. What followed was the Golden Age of Hollywood.

In the mid-1900s the Anarchs came. Christopher fell for some of the Anarchs, had soured on his childe, the Camarilla Prince Don Sebastian. So the Don fell, and the Anarchs set up a Free State--completely unaware of the Kindred powers that were already supporting them from the shadows. Of a sort, anyway; quite frankly at the time Eva didn't care. The Anarchs, the Free State? That nonsense belonged to Christopher, as far as Eva was concerned. Where he became distracted from Hollywood, Eva only doubled her efforts, becoming hyperactive in her involvement with the day to day, and long term, operations of Hollywood. Her only distraction was in the early 70s--and that was thanks to the exploding porn film industry in Van Nuys, well within her LA domain.

Eventually Christopher's paranoia and aggression got the better of him. When Los Angeles turned to war after lupine and kindred alike went after Don Sebastian, Christopher came dangerously close to exposing himself--and by extension Eva. It created the first squabble between the two since the earliest days of Hollywood. Instead of heal and move on, the divisions only deepened. After the incident elder Kindred in LA began to die, and a new series of violence errupted. This time Christopher went public, and declared himself Baron of Los Angeles.

It was betrayal and violation to Eva. Their secrecy was their bond, and he had finally violated it due to no reason other than his own paranoia and madness. When Christopher attacked her own Coterie and friends, Eva was forced to act. The Kindred Civil War of the Free States began, and ended only when Eva diablerized Christopher Houghton. Forced with a decision of letting chaos break out or assert her dominance of Los Angeles, Eva refused to step forward. While the Kid and her's power base is consolidated by her and her's, their doesn't seem to be a plan by Eva to do anything with all that influence and power.

Eva has currently taken on the persona of a recent model turned 12th Generation Toreador, and can be found in all manner of havens and hangouts across the Los Angeles area. From bars in Santa Monica to hotel lobbies along Beverely Hills to house parties in the Valley. Some have noted her beauty, but some others have dismissed her as just another pretty face in a town full of pretty faces. This way no one seems to mind having her around, even if no one seems to pay her much more than token attention for brief periods, leaving her to reflect on the images and voices suddenly filling her head, whispering to her through blood and ages about Gehenna, and about him.

While Eva floats around LA incognito her Coterie remains vigilant. Each of it's members had taken governance of one aspect of Eva's dominion or another, and in her absence they have simply kept doing what it is they have always done: Mateo, the sole survivor of the LA Tremere Chantry, works LA County and state officials and keeps tabs on the magical side of things. Andre, a once upon a time LA gangster turned US Marine turned LA Brujah does what he's always done best; act as force modifier for Eva with several of LA's largest gangs secretly in his pocket along with the private security that can be seen in a few of Eva's properties around LA but most notably have turned Catalina Island into a fortress. Rachel, a former Camarilla Ventrue and before that former lawyer, runs much of the business empire under Eva as well as monitoring a network of spies and informants. Yanci, thought to be Eva's lone childer, manages Hollywood in the absence of both the Kid and now Eva.

Each member of the Coterie have stepped up into larger roles, though each is aware of what Eva is up to, though not always the exact details. There are even hints that there may be another one or two of the Coterie still hiding in Los Angeles.

NPCs/the Coterie

Yanci Carolina

Toreador | 7th Generation

The product of Catholic abuse on a native woman. Raised in captivity for much of her young life under the control of a twisted Priest. After her mother snapped and attacked that twisted Priest, Yanci's young life began to spiral out of control. The Priest killed her mother and began a long series of "punishments" for Yanci to answer for the "crimes" of her dead mother. When some of the other older women at the Mission tried to step in, the blood shed only continued. The violence and blood had broken something in the Priest, and that would leave Yanci in a cell for most a year before the Spanish gave way to the Mexican, and the Mexican caught up with the little Mission in what would one day be known as Southern California.

Eva came with the Mexicans, and the Mexicans were happy to let Eva deal with Yanci and the old women of the Mission. When the Mexicans and Eva departed the Priest was dead, Yanci and the old women of the Mission directed to a nearby Rancho for shelter and employment. They stayed at the Mission until a few years later when Yanci would see Eva again, this time under moonlight and after burying the last of the old women. Yanci's life ended, and her unlife began. What followed was as gentle a beginning into the Kindred existence as Yanci can imagine their being. California was wide open and easy pickings for Kindred, and there were few enough of them back them. While Eva would stay at the Rancho of Don Sebastian with Christopher for long stretches of time, Yanci would learn to roam farther and farther.

She began, then, to lay the groundwork of a network of contacts from every level of society within California. Yanci's young unlife was filled with connecting people and groups, both natives and outsiders, and the girl would blush if the full scope of her role in bringing about the United States into California was known. The right whisper, the right connection, the right amount of trust with the right people; Yanci was a natural at networking and working those networks of people for desirable outcomes. She became invaluable to her sire and grandsire once the duo conceived the artistic vision of what they would tongue-in-cheek refer to as "the City of Angels."

When the duo started their second great project, Hollywood, Yanci was tested like never before. Hollywood was people and networks, but these people were different than the Californians Yanci was used to. Though it took her years and years at Eva's elbow, Yanci finally began to learn what it took to achieve similar results in Hollywood. Though various humans can claim to have created it, the field of Talent Management, managing Hollywood talent in such a way to optimize their talent and studio investment, was very much so the first Talent Manager in Hollywood. By then Eva was already talking about a global movie making effort. Though Christopher Houghton disagreed, Eva began to receive visiting Toreador from other parts of the world, most notably Italy, creating a back channel of establishment Kindred from Europe and a new avenue for Yanci.

She would spend much of the decades after WWII mostly based in Italy with filmmakers such as Federico Fellini, watching American films at the time and trying to guess which ones the Kid had influenced and which ones Eva had influenced. After a few years the difference between the two began to be as wide as a Michael Bay film and a Quentin Tarantino film of modern nights. In the late 60s Yanci would return to Hollywood, finding a very different kind of situation than before. The Kid and Eva's working relationship had frayed to the point where the Kid withdraw from Hollywood and began attaching himself to various Anarch Barons and Princes and the kind of Kindred politics that went in the face of everything he and Eva, and by some extension Yanci, had been building all the years together.

It was artistic betrayal in favor of Kindred politics, and the original sin that would lead to Eva diablerizing Christopher the Kid. Soon after the Coterie became a thing with the addition of the Ventrue Rachel and the Brujah Andre. When Mateo, the Tremere, joined them later it felt as if he had always been part of their little group. The Coterie grew closer and and more directly involved in the power structures of LA and SoCal over the next 50 years, as Christopher the Kid grew less and less connected to reality, let alone managing affairs. When his madness had fully manifested the Coterie acted in self defense, and Eva ended it.

The resulting fallout has seen each member of the Coterie not Eva work overtime to keep all the plates spinning. Yanci finds herself managing Hollywood like she once managed golden age studio stars. She's busy, but if there's any part of SoCal life that is insulated from the current chaos it's the glitz, glamour, and money of Hollywood.

Andre

Brujah | 9th Generation

A young black man who had a life not unlike other black Brujah that originated in the United States at the time; a former slave turned soldier in the American Civil War. Andre reckons it has something to do with the nature of the American Civil War; the kind of bloodshed and violence rarely seen in the history of the planet. While he would only later learn of the Kindred manipulations during the Civil War, nothing about the conflict felt "right" or "just" to him during those living days. It was only after Andre and a handful of his remaining black unit protecting a vital supply line from a Confederate attack, a heroic effort that would lead many a Union officer to see black troops as more than manual labor, that life would begin to get weird for him.

His unit was the only real family he'd ever had; the other slaves he'd been raised with were as bad as they were good, more than happy to snitch on you or blame you for something they done if it meant you got whipped and they got extra food. In the war his unit looked out for each other, even their white officer wasn't no bad man, and did what he could do for them before he was injured. Although their unit would be reinforced, their was always another Confederate charge on the supply line. The Confederates enjoyed fast, mounted, attacks. Andre, in particular, had gotten good at spotting them early. Some joked he could sense 'em, that he could sense any coming fight.

It was in the middle of the night that Andre would be embraced by his sire. Andre would lose his sire in the mountains of Tennessee, presumed dead after coming into conflict with Garou. He would drift south, from smuggler's cove to mining camp to hunting lodge, always dragging along the edge of society until he would finally submit to curiosity and enter into the city of New Orleans. It was in New Orleans that Andre would come into contact with Crispus Attucks and begin his training as a spy, though Andre's natural talents were always with fighting and small unit tactics. Through Attucks he would be introduced to Jeremy MacNeil and Marguerite Foccart, and would eventually follow the former when they heard of anarch uprisings out West.

In Los Angeles Andre found a home. Though Jeremy and Marguerite would get swept up in their dramas, Andre found himself happy to embed himself into black communities; something the two white Europeans who looked like characters off a romance novel cover could never do. He would then find ways to ingratiate himself to other minority communities, from Mexican to Asian. He sparked up an interest in martial arts, but left it at idle interest at the time while he began to see what was becoming of minority communities and how they were isolating in their own neighborhoods. Like how his Union army unit had become a family, so too would the minority community gangs become a combat family.

After WWII Andre began to cultivate the gangs of LA, while other Brujah worried about revolts and Kindred politics, Andre kept his focus and began to expand his operation by taking in returning WWII G.I.'s and their new training/knowledge hard earned on the battle field. Andre began paying attention to nearby military bases, and in shadowing a military training exercise out of curiosity, he would run right into the Toreador Yanci. The girl talked him out of any conflict; she was no threat unless he harmed her. Andre made a joke about not being scared of a Kid. Yanci invited him to Malibu, where he would meet Yanci's sire, Eva.

Eva and Andre spent days talking about Los Angeles, what would become of it. Eva envisioned a day when the gangs and minorities would get their Hollywood spotlight. Andre laughed off the idea almost immediately, but the Toreador's vision was so strong, so fleshed out, that after the week was over at her beach house even he had to admit it sounded possible. With a shake of hands, the two decided to join forces. While Jeremy tolerated, maybe even liked the Kid a bit, Eva gave MacNeil a wide berth. Over time Andre left MacNeil's camp and joined Eva's, quick to point out to his former traveling companion that Eva was not the Kid, and the gulf between them was widening.

In the late 20th century, Eva's ideas of minority spotlight became a reality. Rodney King changed the entire equation, and by the time rap game began to explode, Andre was already doing what he could to keep the gangs sharp but the bloodshed from inflicting too much damage for their own cause. During the 80s he had garnered an interest in Private Military, and was able spend time learning new training and tactics and weapons, himself. With Eva's money the two would begin several PMC companies through puppets and ghouls, the final layers to a "combat network" that reaches from street gangs to PMC units as well armed and trained as most Special Forces units in the world. One of these units is visible from time to time on Catalina Island, and it's believed they control the local police on the island, as reports indicate it's nearly impossible for a Kindred to get on the island and remain there without being isolated and ejected by the police, or if it comes to it, the unmarked commandos in black.

Rachel

Ventrue | 9th Generation

Rachel Fields very much remembers her life. She had a happy childhood and a privileged upper middle class upbringing. She excelled academically and at first considered she may make her life in the field of analytics. It was a trick of fate that saw her witness a race crime and decide to seek a more proactive career, rather than something as reactrive as data analysis despite her love of math. It wasn't until college at Harvard that she realized she could largely do both: she could become a lawyer and litigate for various analytics firms. Shortly after graduation she assisted in the creation a predictive model for mid-level consumer markets.

From that point on, Rachel was tracked. She liked to dress in "timeless" modern fashions. She composed herself very honorably, and was determined to make a productive mark on the world to further society, not to drain from it. She quick witted, intelligent, and even natured. Between her law degree and her specialty in analytics, there was even greater interest in the girl. The first interest she got after her law school graduation was as a legal assistant with the NSA, helping to navigate complex agreements by the NSA and tech firms within the MIT atmosphere.

Then one night it all changed. She entered her loft apartment and found people in fancy corporate clothing waiting for her patiently. There was something about them Rachel never did like, but something in the back of her mind told her to keep it quiet, to listen and determine from the information and facts what the best course of action was. Her visitors were amused yet had no patience for her to say yay or nay; they required her expertise and contacts. The Ventrue elders present allowed the Ventrue's, and by extension the Camarilla's, chief analytics mind Thaddeus Carter embrace the girl. Though newer he was more accomplished than many Kindred far older and was of the blood of Hardstadt.

Thus began a beautiful work partnership. The predictive models the two created from Camarilla data and intelligence have helped the Camarilla immensely in North America and all over the world. The more they worked, the more renown Thaddeus and Rachel found themselves achieving. They wrote the new playbook on how the Sabbat operated and how best to beat them back. As much as Thaddeus seemed to appreciate the favor given to him by Ventrue elders, Rachel found herself not caring. If Camarilla and Sabbat had been dancing this dance for as long as they had been, Rachel failed to see how even a "new playbook" would end the conflict. She wasn't interested in that dance.

Out of appreciation for their partnership Thaddeus supported Rachel when she asked to leave. The Clan decided for her it would be best if she relocated to Vancouver and assisted the Prince there. Rachel gained a profound education in Lupine/Kindred relations during her time in Vancouver, although she found the Ventrue Primogen in the city to be tiresome, and eventually she simply left for Seattle without any permission from those above her in the Clan. While Alec Cross and she got along famously and the relationship allowed Rachel to get close to tech giants like Apple and Google and Facebook, she spent more than a few years in Silicon Valley before meeting a Kindred that seemed unlike any she had ever met before.

The Kindred was a model, or a sorceress, it was hard for even a mind trained as well as Rachel's to follow the vague story and at times confusing, or conflicting, details of the story. Yet never once did Rachel find herself doubting the words of the Kindred woman she had met. When several Hollywood movie stars appeared at the hotel bar Rachel had met the Kindred woman at and the stars instantly went to greet this mystery Kindred woman, Rachel's curiosity forced her to ask plainly: Who are you? What are you?

In her time with the Ventrue and Camarilla, and it's rigid structures, a Kindred like this woman seemed surreal. So by the time she got the story of the woman, from early California to early Los Angeles to Hollywood, and a name, Eva, Rachel had decided where she wanted to be and what she wanted to do. Rachel would visit Eva in Los Angeles, and immediately begin helping the woman by assessing her legal staff and seeing where they could improve. High upon Catalina Island where they watched the sailboats in the waters just off the island look like twinkling stars in the night's sky Rachel and Eva spoke about Hollywood, and it's future with the very tech giants Rachel had just spent years getting to know and working with here and there.

Although Rachel informed Clan Ventrue of her intentions, she has never heard back from them. When she has it has been non-responses, committing to neither casting her out of the Clan or giving her any kind of permission. The most they've done is express disappointment in her choices, and extend to her that they have confidence that she is not going to divulge any sensitive information she may have from her time working with her sire and their project regarding the Sabbat. As such Rachel occupies an immensely bizarre position with Clan Ventrue: someone with intimate knowledge that walked away from the path the Clan put her on and yet has been allowed to simply keep walking.

Some suspect this really is because of what Rachel might know. Others suspect it's because of the high profile relationships with Kindred and Kine of North America that she's developed. The wisest, however, point to one relationship in particular: Eva. The Camarilla, and especially the Ventrue, have long acknowledged Hollywood's role in maintaining the Masquerade. They have an appreciation for the great works that have been done, and especially keeping with the Traditions. Yet no elder is fool enough to think for a second the Camarilla doesn't wish they could add Eva, or her works, to the selection of tools at their disposal. Perhaps Rachel is a way to do that. Prehaps Rachel is really more of a Camarilla spy than a wandering Ventrue.

Maybe time will tell.

Mateo

Tremere | 10th Generation

One of the few survivors of the Los Angeles Chantry since he was not present at the time of the mystery attack upon it that took nearly all members of the Tremere Chantry. Since nothing was taken or destroyed the sudden dissappearace of the other members of the Chantry left a mystery that Mateo tried to investigate, but either he simply lacked the knowledge or there were precious few traces left of the killer or killers to be investigated. Although Clan Tremere itself was hesitant to send in any help since the Free State already had a reputation, had already taken the lives of many Tremere, and was descending into violence even as Mateo reached out.

Mateo found himself reaching out to Anarch leaders for any assistance, but they either played coy or didn't care. Only after asking around did someone appear to him; three someones. They sat down at a table he had sequestered himself to in the back corner of a dive bar Mateo had grown to favor. Just sat down like they belonged, as affable and charming as any Kindred he had ever seen. Two women and a man, and almost immediately they introduced themselves: Yanci, Rachel, Andre. They knew who attacked his Chantry, but in telling him, they explained, they would have to tell him the whole story.

That was the evening Mateo became one of the few Kindred in the world to know about the truth of Los Angeles and Hollywood, about Christopher and Eva.

Mateo is the childer of Lucas Halton, a 9th Generation Tremere and the former Prince of Houston. A 7th Circle High Apprentice at the time of the attack on the Los Angeles Chantry, Mateo spent much of his life in Mexico as a son, brother, and medical student at various universities. It was traveling in Texas when Mateo sat in on several 'mystical parlors' on Galveston Island, and there he first met Lucas. They spent much of the evening making sarcastic commentary at the expense of the 'mystical' charade they were bearing witness to that evening. Lucas would talk Mateo into staying on Galveston Island, sparking a friendship that would culminate in Lucas embracing Mateo a year later.

Mateo's initial unlife was difficult, and he would find many of his fellow new Apprentices committing suicide as they struggled with the cold reality and hard demands of Clan Tremere. But Mateo had both intellect, talent, and enough interpersonal skills to survive until he found his footing. From there he became even more of a devoted academic in unlife as he was in life, being allowed access to various paths of Thaumaturgy to see which he had the most aptitude and talent for. Much of his unlife remained the paths and his study of them until he was promoted a few times, Lucas calling on Mateo to assist in the guiding of what would become one of the largest cities in North America with Houston.

At the loss of his sire, Mateo was asked to transfer to the Los Angeles Chantry. A dangerous proposition, it was explained to him, given the nature of the Free State and the fact that the Los Angeles Chantry had to exist as an "unofficial" chantry. Mateo was happy to have a new role after the loss of his sire, and soon settled in just fine at the Los Angeles Chantry. It took him longer than he would have liked to settle into the city, he found it far more unpredictable than Houston and South Texas. Mateo was pleased that the Tremere of the LA Chantry were mostly open-handed with knowledge and encouraging.

The sudden attack broke blood bonds, such as they had been broken when his sire was lost. Mateo felt too alone, too isolated, in the wake of the attack. When the three Kindred sat themselves down as his back corner bar table, it was a mixture of dread and hope he had felt. The trio offered him a place to stay, a safe house of theirs they could let him borrow for as long as he needed. The large male, Andre, assisted Mateo in relocating many of the Chantry's secrets to a secure location. Andre invited him to meet the other member of their coterie, and Mateo agreed. Far up in the Hollywood Hills, behind a white stucco wall and black gates, on a canyon road that winded this way and that for miles, they arrived at a large house that seemed to Mateo to be all glass walls.

He met her in front of one of those walls of glass; the one in the massive, sprawling, sitting room with the sunken floor and the Hollywood style. Then and there was Mateo finally confronted with the bare truth: there would be no justice for his Chantry. They would not move on the Kindred behind the attack, they as a group were too close to offending party, and doing so would incite the kind of conflict that could easily break the Masquerade. All Eva could offer him were answers and friendship, and one day, she promised, justice. Mateo thanked her and left that night. He would return in following nights, spending time with the mystery Hollywood coterie. It was a high, though the coterie worked to influence and control Los Angeles and Hollywood with an impressive dedication they were fun, they were kind even to their ghouls.

It was bizarre. It wasn't long before Mateo found himself smiling more, and enjoying conversations that lasted all night. When Mateo made the decision to leave Clan Tremere it was because he had found a new belonging in the mystery coterie of Hollywood. Mateo and Eva's friendship would deepen greatly as he began to teach her Thaumaturgy, their library of artifacts and knowledge growing in time. Mateo would even be taught a few things himself; the Path of Technomancy would become an obsession and specialization of his, giving Mateo a new role in the city. The Free State had become a haven for hacktivist former Tremere, and now Mateo had the resources and network to keep track on all the various coteries and cells in and around the city.

Mateo stood with the coterie as Eva came into conflict with Kid, and was there as he saw Eva give the Kid final death and the Tremere of the LA Chantry some measure of justice.

Gwendalyn Vance

Mortal Actress | 24 Years Old

While it's hard to tell exactly what her position is within the group, one thing is clear: Gwnedalyn Vance is a mortal member of the clique. In true Hollywood fashion, Gwendalyn Vance started out as a small town girl lost in a small town, go nowhere kind of life. Though her parents were, more or less, loving and well adjusted, nothing would stop their daughter from her dreams of Hollywood. After graduating high school, and majoring in Drama at a nearby small private college in the Pacific Northwest, Gwendalyn took her old Honda and made the trek to Hollywood.

It took her a little less than a month to get attention, even if it wasn't the kind of attention she was hoping for. At a party held by industry wanna-bes and grifters, Gwendalyn was drugged by a 'producer' in film, really a YouTuber trying to make the jump to online porn videos. Gwendalyn was so far gone, she doesn't remember walking out into Echo Park traffic, or nearly being killed by a passing car. When the wanna-be tried to drag her out of the street, telling concerned pedestrians to calm down, he was her boyfriend and she was a drug addict, it was either chance or fate that Eva caught a glance of the girl when passing by.

From that moment, on, the connection between Gwendalyn and the elder Kindred was intense. The most impressive thing to Eva about the girl? Gwendalyn refused any Hollywood favors. She wanted to audition on her own, she wanted to scrap and claw to every unspeaking extra in a bad commercial part she could get, with hopes and dreams for more one day. Ironic that a struggling, working actress that also works as a waitress would become so close to the Kindred that created and run Hollywood from the shadows.

In time Gwendalyn came to know what Eva was, and to meet the rest of the Coterie. When Eva entered torpor after diablerie of Christopher Houghton, Gwendalyn stayed in touch with the group, and from time to time still saw them. She got a speaking role in a failed pilot a year later, the cruel sting of the pilot getting passed on by Netflix stung, it was recently awakened Eva who appeared to comfort the girl. In their first evening together in too long a time, Gwendalyn offered herself to Eva...not sexually, but as a meal. Though initially reluctant, Eva admitted Gwendalyn was very much her 'type': a serious artist at heart and a great beauty. Since that night Gwendalyn has become Eva's favorite mortal, and they don't go a week without seeing each other.

Ghoul, blood doll, is hard to tell. Eva seemed intent on embracing the girl, before Gehenna, and now it's anyone's guess what the fates have in store for the girl in the end times.

[Fiber]

Grace

Name: Grace Liu (current code name)
Age: 43, looks like she’s 43
Species: Mage
Powers/Skill: Spheres From best to worst: Correspondence, Mind, Entropy, Forces, Life, Time
Arete: 5

Appearance:


Personality: Grace is a true believer in the Technocracy and its mission for a safe and superstition free humanity. She is well versed in the formalities of the Technocracy’s culture and shares the cold and rational outlook common within its ranks. However, she is also chronically stressed as a result of the demands of her job, and more willing to take a pragmatic approach to the enforcement, concentrating on the big picture and spirit of the rules rather following policy by rote. When dealing with the public she initially uses a friendly demeanor, projecting an almost unnatural kindness, but she finds it difficult maintain this when things get contentious. In formal technocracy settings she falls back into the default bureaucratic personality of unquestioning loyalty and obedience, but outside that she is more relaxed and isn’t afraid to mince words, even being comically blunt at times. Grace doesn’t relax much, and tries to avoid prolonged bouts of introspection.

Biography:
Grace’s birth name is Margaret Yu; that identity has long since been abandoned. From an early age she excelled academically, almost equally in the humanities and the hard sciences. Her awakening as a mage happened in her college years; then she was something of a free spirit, looking for knowledge from both traditional and nontraditional sources. She was determined to know more about the world and more about herself, for the former she devoured books and changed majors constantly, for the latter she turned to more esoteric methods, like meditation and psychedelic drugs. This brought her to the attention of the Technocracy, who began observing her. Her psychedelic explorations also lead her to make friends with some members of the Cult of Ecstasy, having respect for their quest of avoiding staticness and self-improvement.

The Technocracy took a gentle approach to recruiting her, slowly explaining the conflicts behind the scenes and guiding her through it all. By contrast, the Ecstatics told her nothing, just waiting to see what she would discover on her own. They believed in letting her learn to help herself, even when she faced trauma from the failure of her first seeking. She resented them and devoted herself more deeply to the scientific paradigm, and then the Technocracy made their formal request for her to join.
She saw the decision to join as making a choice between personal excellence and a greater mission, one for the benefit of the world. When she made the decision to join she had only one request, one they were happy to honor: she wanted to be unconflicted, wholly committed to the cause, without any risk that her uncertainties would rise again and jeopardize her mission. They obliged and removed her memories of her time with the ecstatics and any lingering doubts she had, to this day she doesn’t know what happened to any of her former friends. After that day, she became the woman she would be from then on, Grace Liu.

After considerable training she was assigned a position within the NWO, away from field work. She proved excellent at cataloging information and analyzing the intel on reality deviants gathered by the Technocracy’s vast bureaucracy, but over time she came to worry that her talents were being wasted working as a glorified librarian. Enlightened personnel were a rare resource, and they were especially valuable on the front lines of the conflict. Sensing an opportunity for advancement, she became a field agent, and was assigned to the Southern California region. The massive amount of media meant that the Syndicate exercised heavy influence over Technocracy operations in the area, NWO presence was undermanned, overworked, and usually on the losing end of territorial fights with the Syndicate. Turnover was excessively high, and soon enough Grace found herself the NWO field operative in charge of all of Los Angeles County. The work is stressful and unrewarding, especially with recent shakeups, but she has stayed in the position longer than anyone else so far, and considers it a success if she can just stop any major trouble from being noticed by masses. One of the few duties she actively enjoys rather than merely tolerates is mentoring younger agents, like her subordinate Julie.

NPCs:

Julie

Julia Stapledon

Grace's subordinate within the NWO, recently awakened and inexperienced. She grew up in abusive survivalist cult and is very happy to be out of it now, still getting a grasp on normal living. Her cover identity is as a journalist/science youtuber, she performs this role with much enthusiasm.

[Bloodrose]

Morgan

“Never be cruel, and never be cowardly.” - The Doctor

Name: Morgan Holloway

Age:Appears early/mid-twenties. Actually one hundred and thirty-two.

Clan: Malkavian

Disciplines: Auspex, Presence, Dementation.

Generation: 10th.

Species: Kindred

Appearance:

Morgan

Morgan is a curvaceous, pear-shaped woman, with fair skin, and soft blonde hair. Her emerald eyes are particularly dazzling, and she has a strong jaw.

Large portions of Morgan’s body are covered in burnt tissue, and warped scars, which her embrace never healed. Huge red marks dominate her right thigh, and much of her right arm is also burnt. The flesh on her right hand is coated with angry red and yellow scars, and the nails in her pinky finger are charred black, and have partially fallen out.

Personality:

Morgan is, mostly, good-natured, but isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, should she need to. She is a determined, steadfast woman, who believes zealously in the cause that she has thrown her un-life behind. Unlike many kindred, she considers the lives of Kine to be sacred, and detests those who treat humans as disposable.

She battles constantly with the derangements of Malkavians, and fights to keep hold of her sanity.

Morgan suffers from PTSD, specifically relating to the death of her sister, Mary, and the fire that killed her. She struggles with intrusive thoughts, and flashbacks, which have become increasingly severe, since her embrace. She is far more fearful of fire than even most other kindred, and is petrified of cramped, enclosed spaces. Morgan’s PTSD has become entwined with the bane of her clan, culminating in her struggling with hallucinations and disembodied voices pertaining to the fire.

Biography:

Morgan Holloway was born to poverty, in London, during the Victorian era. Her childhood was defined by hardship and want, with Morgan and her sister Mary being left to fend for themselves, after their father abandoned them, and their mother died of Scarlet Fever.

Both sisters grew up doing whatever they could to get by, and would come to work as women of the night. They shared a small apartment, in Whitechapel, which was where the events that would come to define both Morgan’s life and un-life took place.

The Whitechapel apartment was broken into by a gang of savage Sabbat brutes, who took great enjoyment in antagonising and torturing the girls. Once they had both been bled, their attackers fled from the building, but not before smashing an oil lamp on the floor, and setting fire to the apartment.

Morgan just about managed to survive the encounter, albeit badly burned, by clambering through a window, and falling into the streets below - which earnt her many-a-broken bone - but the fire claimed Mary’s life.

Morgan was overcome with grief and hysteria, which saw her locked away in a lunatic asylum, which was where she crossed paths with her sire; Doctor Lange. Lange took a macabre interest in Morgan, and ended up embracing her into clan Malkavian.

Morgan later overpowered Lange, killing him, before escaping into the night, which would lead to her eventually crossing paths with Henry Laghari, the leader of one of England’s rising Anarch Movements.

Morgan quickly became enamoured with the Anarch’s, and their righteous cause. With the help of her new comrades, she managed to get a better grasp over her derangements, and felt hope for the first time since her sister’s death. Morgan threw herself into the fight against the Ivory Tower, growing to become fierce and formidable freedom fighter, who sought to liberate all kindred from the cold grip of despotic elders.

Although she would never recover from Mary’s death, Morgan Holloway had found new family, amidst the Anarch’s of London.

It was during this time, skirting through London-by-Night, that Morgan became friends with a young kine, called Calantha Teohari.

Calantha became Morgan’s link to the mortal world, and she fought to keep her friend separate from her battles with the supernatural. They grew to become best friends, which made it even more heartbreaking for Morgan when Calantha was embraced by the Angel, and was instrumental in the massacre of her Anarch comrades, including Henry Laghari.

What followed was a bloody game of cat and mouse, with Morgan and Calantha chasing each other across the globe, in a grisly, drawn out battle.

In the year 2020, this has lead Morgan to LA, where she has fallen in with Los Angeles’ Anarch movement. Although Morgan spends her time fighting the good fight, Calantha is constantly at the back of her mind.

Calantha

“Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell.” - Lady Macbeth

Name: Calantha Teohari

Age: (Usually) Appears late teens (seventeen - nineteen). Actually one hundred and twenty-seven.

Clan: Tzimisce

Species: Kindred

Appearance:

Calantha

Much like most of her clan, Calantha’s appearance is everchanging. She has been short, tall, thin, fat, fair-skinned, dark-skinned, and everything in-between. Although she sometimes takes a somewhat androgynous form, Calantha favours a feminine appearance, and refrains from blurring gender boundaries to the extent that many Tzimisce do.

Currently, Calantha accentuates her vampiric features, by making her fangs permanently pronounced, and sharpening her characteristics. She has given her ears a bat-like quality, and pulled sharp spikes of bone through her pale flesh.

Her hair is long, and dark, like flowing shadow, and she has a quality to her that might be described as alien, or elfish.

Disciplines: Animalism, Vicissitude, Auspex.

Generation: 9th (Through diablerie. 11th upon embrace.)

Personality: Inquisitive and bright, above all else, Calantha Teohari is something of a genius, with a burning desire to learn, and to amass more knowledge. Unfortunately, although her inventiveness remains, her kindness and compassion were burnt away, through a combination of the horrific torture she suffered at the hands of The Angel, and her years spent serving as a member of the Sabbat.

Calantha now actively draws enjoyment from inflicting suffering and pain in others, particularly her unwilling test subjects. She has grown more and more sadistic over the decades, largely due to the fact that she developed a fondness for embracing, and then diablerizing, serial killers, so that she can collect their twisted souls.

Biography:

Calantha Teohari was born in the Victorian era, as a child of the Teohari Household, a family of secretive sorcerers, who had extensive ties to the Cult of Bacchus. Calantha was raised in a loving household, who rejected the conservative dogma of the age, and encouraged her budding curiosity. Although the Teohari operated in the shadows, and hid their true nature from the world, they schooled Calantha in their traditions from a young age, striving to give her the most fulfilling and liberated life possible.

As a young woman, Calantha became close friends with Morgan Holloway, a strange and mysterious, yet ultimately kind-hearted girl, who seemed only to appear at night time. Both out-spoken and warmhearted souls, it did not take long for the pair to become inseparable.

Then one day, the Teohari Household was torn apart by the servants of a depraved monster, called “The Angel”, and all but Calantha were butchered.

The Angel kept Calantha alive for its own amusement, inflicting disgusting torture upon her. She was torn apart, and put back together again, over, and over, and over, by monstrous acts of flesh crafting, until her spirit was as broken as her body.

After weeks of appaling torment, the Calantha Teohari which the Angel came to sire bore few similarities to the one which it had captured.

In a sick act of pettiness, the Angel sent Calantha to spearhead its crusade against London’s underground Anarch movement, of which Morgan was a member.

Over the next few decades, the Angel groomed Calantha as its apprentice, believing her to be completely and utterly subservient to it, until the day she overpowered it, and drank its soul.

Time passed, and Calantha fled to the “new world”, with Morgan on her tail the whole while. She developed a new favourite pass time; tracking serial killers, embracing them, and then diablerizing them, just as she had the Angel.

Eventually, Calantha became acquainted with the West Coast Sabbat, whom she became an enthusiastic member of.

Although she outwardly serves the Sabbat, Calantha is only truly loyal to herself, and uses the Sword Of Cain as a means to further her own dark, and depraved ambitions.

[Hellion]

Nicole Stathos | Gangrel | 13th Generation

.
.

Who do you trust?
Tell me who do you trust?
I see 'em coming at us
But when the molotov drops
Tell me who do you trust?

Name: Nicole “Nyx” Stathos

Age: 26
Actual: 26

Species: Kindred (neonate)

Clan: (Urban) Gangrel

Disciplines: Celerity | Obfuscate | Protean
Note: her Sire’s former Sabbat affiliation has granted the above disciplines

Generation: 13th

Appearance: Standing at five-foot-four with a weight proportionate and lean muscle, Nicole had always been considered “small but tough” throughout most of her life. She’d been a very physical person, whether it was in work or play, and her shorter than average stature continued to push her to challenge everything.

Her hair, once long, wavey, and beautiful in her mortal life, was reduced to nothing. Shaved down to the scalp out of a fit of rage, after realizing a deep wound given to her by an assailant post-Embrace left one side of her head partially scarred. A spot where hair would never grow properly again.

A tomboy for the most part, typical clothing for her had always been more or less “streetwear”, or at the very least, tshirt, jeans and sneakers. Very rarely did she ever dress up for an event, unless it was absolutely necessary.

Personality: Confident. Outspoken. Polite. Genuine. Compassionate. Just a few traits that could sum her up. Always putting those she cares for first, Nicole would rather live a life where others are the center of her focus. However, don’t ever mistake her friendly disposition with weakness, as she will quickly remind you otherwise. Emotions can run high with her at times, especially in cases dealing with her struggles of immortality and adjusting to the unlife, however she does her best to repress those thoughts and tears in order to move on.

Biography

.
“Your body is dying...pay no attention.”

The unforgettable quote from Interview with the Vampire resonated -oddly enough- within the woman’s otherwise agonized thoughts as she remained curled up in a fetal position on the cold, filthy tile floor of an unfamiliar kitchen in an equally unknown apartment. A place she will most likely never forget. A place she should have never found herself anyway in the late hours. The darkness. The horrible smell of trash, old bleach, spoiled milk, blood, and death. But not fresh death. Rather a creature whose body was rotten from long ago and far past its expiration date. The room had been full of them only minutes before, but now it was only...the silence. All but her heart, as the pumping slowed to a halt, and the once mortal coil she lived with for twenty-six years continued its transformation into something entirely more impressive. Perhaps even more monstrous. What was happening on that night? And more so, what had happened to the large man who caused this shift of lifestyle? A paradigm that was once laid out for the young woman, now turned to a path of uncertainty. The attackers, who had come out of nowhere, resulting in a scar across the woman’s face that may never heal.

And the creature...the hairy beast who saved her from a gruesome death.

How does one find themselves in such a situation?

It only makes sense to go back to the beginning.

-----------

Situated between the megacities of San Francisco and Los Angeles, and bordering Yosemite National Park, Nicole was born to a middle class family in the relatively sleepy town of Fresno. Daughter of a retired police captain, and a flower shop owner, the girl was - at times- standing before a crossroad, wondering just where to go with her life. She respected both of her parents occupations, as law enforcement and entrepreneurship were no easy tasks, however, after graduating highschool, it seemed that her father’s line of work had the most influence during her life and the Fresno Police Academy was the next major step on her journey. Was it something she dreamed of? Not necessarily. But she was never quite sure what her dream was, and simply settled for familiar territory.

Fast-forward seven years, arduous training, political bullshit, misogynist leadership, and generally gathering as much street knowledge as possible, and Nyx found herself in Los Angeles, or more specifically, West Hollywood, working undercover for the LAPD’s narcotics department for a few months. New to the division, but not the life of a police officer, the woman certainly proved capable enough in cracking a number of smaller pending cases that had otherwise baffled the local precincts. Perhaps the chaos and massiveness of Los Angeles simply needed a fresh perspective from a small-town girl, or perhaps, there were greater forces at work. Either way, Nicole was given the chance to strike at the heart of a blackmarket operation, as a meeting with the suspected ringleader was set into motion, with the young woman going as the “potential buyer”.

A few days before the meet -and simply wanting to unwind after a long day- Nyx met a few friends and coworkers at a quaint pub in Fairfax on Melrose Avenue, hoping to drown the stress and anxiety she felt at times on the job. It wasn’t the best idea for a cop, but it sure sounded great at the time. While sitting at a small table near the back corner of the pub, chatting it up with the others, Nicole couldn’t help but glance across the room, almost as though a subtle voice compelled her to do so, as she nervously curled a lock of her shoulder-length auburn hair around an ear. It felt...right. The feeling of possibly knowing the young brunette who sat at the bar nursing some sort of refreshment and exchanged eye contact. Within a few moments, Nicole excused herself, asking the others if they wanted anything from the bar, before heading over there, solely focused on the beautiful woman with the intoxicating smile. Very few friends even knew much about her personal life, especially when it came to relationships or sexual preference, but it all didn’t matter at that moment. There was only her and the mystery woman, and Nicole was intrigued. Stepping up to the bar next to her, she ordered for her friends, to at least keep up the appearance that she wasn’t just strangely drawn to a random female. Small talk or otherwise, they both spoke, Nicole finding herself smiling and blushing more than she had in a long time, caught off guard by the compliments and subtle flirtatious gestures from the woman who called herself “Eva”. After what could have been a solid five minute conversation, Eva handed Nyx a black business card, with a beautifully crafted lavender-tinted “E” emblazoned on the front, with parting words to contact her if she needed anything.

Nicole didn’t quite know what to think of that -just meeting her and all- but she smiled and nodded, before heading back to her table with a new pitcher of beer in her hands and a contemplative expression. Her friends gave the woman their own suspicious looks as to wonder what was going on between the two. One could only imagine.

The Animal I have Become.

The evening of the meet put Nicole in the heart of Park Mesa Heights, one of the roughest neighborhoods in South Los Angeles, and one of a dozen or so areas where cops were found brutally murdered with very little trace of the culprits. Unexplained shit was the norm it seemed these days, so Nicole wasn’t surprised that her backup -two unmarks- were mostly reluctant to take the job considering where the meet was taking place. But, early intel reported very little gang interference that night, so they had to take the opening while it was still possible. With backup flanking both sides of the condemned tenement along 15th Street, Nicole made her way to the second story apartment, as instructed via the dealer’s email, stepping over piles of trash, sleeping, drunk, or high vagrants, and dead rats before knocking at the door which opened within moments.

Greeted by a tall, muscular, bearded man dressed in mostly leathers and covered in tattoos, Nicole followed behind and locked the door per his request. The place was in shambles as one would expect from a building that had been considered “unsafe to occupy” for years, but it looked as though plenty of undesirables took shelter regardless of the concerns.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” The large man stated, crossing his arms. “I’ve been watching you for awhile, and I know all about you.” He paused for a moment, before allowing a smirk to cross his lips. “Officer Stathos.”

Nyx wasn’t prepared for what had just happened, and her body tensed, her poker face giving away more than she probably hoped for. How the fuck does he know? Was there an insider feeding this shithead police-sensitive information? But he couldn’t know that much. Clearly it’s a bluff.

“Look, I don’t kn-”

“Don’t bother denying it, Nicole. I have literally every piece of intel on you that goes all the way back to mom and pop’s home in cozy Fresno.” He shrugged, while his voice remained even-toned and nonthreatening. “The bottom line is, you’ve got guts, you’re a good cop, and I want you.”

The woman cocked her head slightly, and was just about to say something, until he continued.

“No, not in the way you’re thinking, my friend. You’re not my type.” He snickered, taking a few steps closer. “More like, joining a family who will stick by you through thick and thin.”

The woman wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so she simply didn’t, but rather backed toward the door. Locked. Fuck.

“Now I know this is all a little unorthodox, but I assure you it’ll be over before you know it.” The bearded man kept his arms crossed as he stepped closer.

“Look, just stay the fuck away from me!” She exclaimed, slowly reaching for the 9mm tucked behind her.

The other simply shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that.” He responded, and before the firearm could be presented, supernatural speed positioned him directly at the woman’s side, knocking the weapon from her hand and pinning her against the door with strength that felt like the weight of a garbage truck had pressed down against her torso.

“You can struggle...” The man growled, his eyes glowing a subtle amber as he pierced her own frightened gaze. “But it’ll only make what’s coming next all the more painful.”

“Wait-”

Before further protest, a sharp pinch surged through the flesh on her neck, the muscles tensing, causing the woman to recoil and attempt to pull away from the iron grip of the large bearded man. But the short-lived pain quickly turned to a pleasurable experience as her body slowly relaxed, and the blood being siphoned from the open artery flowed freely and with little resistance. Her mind, body, and soul would all succumb to the song of the kindred. The Kiss. The Embrace. What felt like an eternity had only been a few moments, but the vampire who would become her Sire carried the woman to the center of the living room and laid her down onto the floor, before opening his wrist to allow his new Childe to feed. And feed she did, without much hesitation in fact, as though the very lifeforce which coursed through his veins called out to her. Beckoning her to become one. One flesh. A pact that would be unbreakable until Final Death.

In a sudden turn of events, the front door of the apartment was kicked in and off its hinges, and three figures -silhouetted by the light of the street ambience- rushed in, catching the Gangrel off guard. The lead assailant, a hefty dark-skinned brute with a shaved head and gold teeth snarled baring fangs as he leapt with inhuman speed at the bearded vampire, knocking him against the adjacent wall. The large Gangrel recovered quickly, landing on his feet and springing forward with ebony claws out and rage in his expression. The altercation between the two seemed to go on for what could have been mere seconds at their rate of acceleration, with growls, hisses, and the crunching of bone and cartilage with each exchange of punches and kicks.

And there was Nicole, her body slowly going through the agonizing physical and psychological transformation of vampirism, was of little use in an otherwise vulnerable state.

But, it mattered not, for as quickly as the fight started, it ended, with the Gangrel being held by the other two attackers, and the leader pulling a large iron rod from his coat and placing it over the heart of the bearded one.

“How did you find me?” The Gangrel hissed through clenched teeth.

“No one dips out on the Sabbat.” The dark-skinned man growled before driving the rod through the other’s chest, eliciting a blood curdling howl before his body went limp. “Take that punk-ass outta here.” He spat. “I’ll deal with his bitch.”

The woman’s body continued to react to the vitae introduced into her system minutes early, even as she stared up at the man looming over her with a poisonous grin, trying to formulate words of help or to plead for her life. She had no idea what was transpiring at that moment. Was she drugged? Had she been hit by something? Her head throbbed, muscled convulsed, and veins burned with a fire from a thousand suns. The Gangrel’s own blood was killing every cell in her body, reforming organs and tissue into something else. Something...monstrous.

“Pathetic lil dog.” He shook his head mockingly. “Not even worth my time, but can’t leave any loose ends.” He said, pulling a military grade tactical knife from his coat. “And yo a fuckin’ huge loose end. And don’t think your friends are coming. Nope. I’d say they're out for the count. For good.” A wry grin crossed his dark lips. “Fuckin’ mortal pigs.”

“But-ah, I’m gonna take a lil souvenir before I slice yo pretty ass up good.” The dark man leaned over the woman and grabbed a handful of her hair, running the blade across her scalp as Nicole’s own hand grabbed on his wrists. Strength was slowly forming in her muscles, but not enough to do anything worth keeping the stranger from cutting away a few locks of hair from the side of her head.

“Fuck you!” She vomited out the words as blood streamed from the corners of her lips, feebly attempting to punch her assailant in the head with her free hand. One. Two. Three. The punches did nothing as the dark man smiled, taking his own hand and raking clawed fingers across part of her face and head, which caused the woman to scream in pain as the inherent poisons aggravated the wounds.

“Ev’ryone has their kinks.” He chuckled, hovering the tip of the blade over the exposed and bloodied throat of the woman. “Mine just happens to be causing pain-”

But before the vampire could finish, he sniffed the air and quickly turned his head in surprise only to notice a creature, whose stature reached the ceiling, looming behind him. Although it was too late, as the hairy beast thrust it’s large clawed hand forward, grabbing the head of the Sabbat creeper, and slamming him against the floor with a force that sent a rumble across the apartment. Again and again the Werewolf plowed the head of the other against the splintered hardwood floor until the body went limp, and no longer was the vampire a threat.

The towering creature allowed a low growl to slip through it’s huge muzzle as it merely stared at the female neonate laying at its feet, her own eyes glared back with a mixture of confusion and rage.

“You’ll need this, and I suggest you get the hell out of here soon.” The beast said, tossing a blood pouch which landed next to her before effortlessly hoisting the dead vampire up and over its shoulder and heading out through the door.

“Ah...and let Eva know that my debt is paid.” It concluded, disappearing into the darkness.

And so we end where this began. On the floor of a place unfamiliar to her, staring through eyes that did not belong to her prior to the Embrace that changed everything. The blood pouch had been ripped open easily enough, and a woman who’d never thought drinking blood of any kind would be a treat, guzzled the two pints down as though it would be her last. It began it’s mending of wounds, although the scars on her face would never truly heal fully. And it didn’t take long for at least the hunger, the rage, and the instinct to want to rip something apart to subside as the vitae ran its course, nourishing as best it could. Extinguishing the beast within that so badly wanted to claw its way out of the darkness.

Not today Satan. But maybe tomorrow.

Hands trembling, Nicole sat up and reached for her phone, calling both men who were to be the backup for the operation that was clearly a total cluster fuck. It wasn’t even real. It was all a sham, and the woman fell for it, hook line and sinker. There was no answer from either cell, and while shaken and confused beyond belief, she needed to know, and so she stood and made her way out of the apartment complex to where the unmarked cars were to be positioned. And there they were. The cars. The corpses of both officers. A bullet to each of their skulls. Their lives ended due to a big joke.

And Nicole was the punchline.

She wanted to cry, but could not. Tears that were once something familiar to her had disappeared. There was nothing but agony and guilt. She reached into the car and grabbed the police radio, calling out for emergency assistance due to two police officers down. The whole operation was a bust. It didn’t matter who knew about what anymore. It was all a setup. Who could she go to? Sure as hell not her Captain. Nicole couldn’t stop shaking. It wasn’t the hunger from her new unlife, it was fear of the unknown. Fear and uncertainty of anything anymore. The initial transition from mortal to kindred was no easy thing for the psyche to wrap around. None of it should be what it is, but it happened. Although...what happened? What was happening to Officer Nicole Stathos?

That night fear compelled her to flee. To run far from where all of this had gone down. And so, with a heavy conscience she leapt into her car and peeled off into the coolness of the night. Back to her apartment. Back to the familiar turf of West Hollywood.

[Mole]

P.L.

𝓟𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝓛𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒏

☨

Kindred │ Malkavian │ 12^th Generation │ Neonate

Auspex │ Obfuscate │ Dementation │ Bipolar & Anal Retentive

𝓟ersonality

Although most Malkavians tend to be loners willingly, Peter seemed to stray from that path as someone who was just a loner simply because he had no idea how to make friends under the state of which he was. Through the years, the failed attempts mounted some more insanity as he forces himself through the hopelessness and becomes even more awkward to be around. He has managed to procure three retainers over the course of things. On occasion he requests at least one to accompany him while he rests during the day as some sort of comfort object, which he generally cherishes quite obsessively. And, like all Malkavians he is a jokester. It could be his jokes that actually make him the most off-putting (one does not joke about eating vampires, and Peter becomes excruciatingly frustrated trying to contain such manic jesting), but from Peter’s point of view, his jokes are really just there to help the outside world understand the truth.

𝓑iography

Peter Lapin was only a small child when his family immigrated from the over turned Imperial Russian regime. Bloodshed and starvation had slaughtered the country in waves of anarchy and chaos. However, Peter has no concrete recollection of this hectic event as he was shuffled by his father, a high standing military General Major in the Russian Calvary, and his mother, a Petersburg Society Princess, by boat from Russia to America. As “White Russians,” his family was welcomed by the United States government. However, the older and significantly less wealthy generation of Russian immigrants were not at all as welcoming towards the influx of displaced Russian aristocracy planting new roots into the American soil. There was a defeatist mindset that set the tone in the Lapin household as his father took up low-wage manual labor and toiled amongst Russians that had nothing but disdain for his class’s attitude when under the Imperial Russian regime.

It was years into the settling of the Lapin family into the vineyard fields of California when Peter’s parents started noticing Peter was behaving in an abnormal manner. It seemed like something that had happened over night, or perhaps, it had been gradual and had somehow gone unnoticed until just yesterday. He as in his later adolescent years, which did warrant some kind of excuse—a cutting of apron strings, so to speak, but both felt something deeper was causing the sudden shift in behavior. They also had no particular way of confronting the situation as the guilt of their distinguishable reputation had caused much rejection placed on the family, and the need for Peter to uphold his behavior was rather unbending in a chilling way. Nonetheless, his parents ignorantly decided on working towards begging for their son’s forgiveness, hoping that an open heart would bring back the young man they thought they had raised. It was one thing to begin holding the burden of the death of their very own Divinely Crowned Emperor, but to see the distaste in their son as their respect continued to be stripped away from them was another thing. Of course, they didn’t have an abundance of time (due to the growth in the family and long hours worked) to make any huge or lasting alterations to how Peter was reared, and so, the behavior preceded until one day, they never heard from him, again.

Behind the veil of what was tempting Peter to act out started off as a small bribe of rebelliousness that slowly formed into the meeting of 11th Generation Malkavian, Major Russell Bell. Perhaps it was the odd intelligence and stereotypical light-hearted dark humor weaved into the Russian culture of his family that made the Malkavian take notice of their sturdy, young boy, peddling his feet through the dark farm roads one night—naively looking for non permitted adventure or something otherwise known as trouble. He didn’t find any such thing before making his disappointedly relieved way back home, but the trouble definitely found him. Russell spent several years off-handedly studying the boy before making any decision to make himself known to the mortal, and when he did become known, he simply made the boy his ghoul. He was roughly the age of sixteen or seventeen when it happened. Peter can’t really remember how old he was when the first drop of vitae touched his tongue. He also does not remember the taste as he’s more concerned with the taste of mortal vitae, particularly of the human variety.

However, he does remember something about a Sabbat attack that left him injured to such an extent, Russell decided to Embrace him, become his sire. It was definitely one thing to be drinking a monthly drop or two of Malkavian vitae every month, but it was a whole different animal (if that is what one would call it) to become one let alone live as one for eternity. Peter made it through the Embrace. “Crazy Jane” maybe helped him, or maybe it was Russell’s nursing him for a while before the Embrace, but whatever it was—nothing was the same. There was no trying to look through the world from a different angle to make things seem normal or close to normal or even remotely normal. Normal wasn’t even a concept he could grasp. There had been maybe a smidgen of hope that he’d get used to this state, but he quickly forgot what he was even hoping for as time went on. Everything just was, and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

The beginning of being a Malkavian was like being in a strange cage of deranged voices that were sometimes quiet, sometimes whispers, sometimes hums, sometimes coherent words and sometimes just static They seemed to come and go and effected his mood and changed the way the wind blew. As disturbing as everything as the incoherent blob of reality smothered in front of him was, he managed to hold onto some “humanity” through this random reoccurring and comforting thought of how he could now see that everything was connected in a way no one had expected and therefore, he was granted the opportunity to be living a rare truth that not very many could see or respect. The Embrace also had left him further mentally crippled with what was then known as Melancholia, but in modern day, it is commonly known as Bipolar Disorder. He may have lost his humanity and succumb to the beast had Russell been an irresponsible Sire as many Malkavian are, but Russell managed to teach Peter for ten years before releasing him to the Prince as a member of the Camarilla. During those ten years, amongst other things, Russell helped Peter fight the beast, especially during the depressive episodes that halted his feeding until the Beast began to notice. He also helped Peter learn to cap the Beast during the highs as emotions and passions would easily excite him and rules stopped abiding to that pridefulness networking through his brain.

Another derangement that had befallen him had occurred through the realization that he was now trapped outside of the reality he once knew. The odd humanly memories of how Goddamn awful he had been to his parents and siblings and friends, and the part where he wouldn’t be able to see them, again. His mind circled around this prospect for months until something finally snapped. It snapped during some ambush of hunters trailing on Russell on him when the stress and fear and hostility of the situation just triggered a sudden regression in his behavior. His mind caved for some childish state of thinking, frozen by fear as his hands cupped his ears and body hunched into an eye shut fit of toddler-esque mental shut down. This wasn’t a permanent regression, but the major part of the disorder that would flair up under stressful situations. On its average utility, Peter found himself retentively anal about being clean, only to find himself in some complete mess (example: the obsessive need for having fingernails that do not have dirt underneath them are cleaned until he was bleeding and there was no hope for making them actually clean).

Peter generally tries to stay out of the drama of the Masquerade, which isn't always easy as a Malkavian. However, as push comes to shove, maybe Russell did do Peter some good because with all the chaos running amuck, the strangest sensation for duty has Peter's attention. The attention is, of course, an incoherent mess of wonderment and terror, but it is there. And, Peter has no will power to fight against nor ignore it.

NPCs

Sire

➺Major Bell, Russell was a soldier in the Continental Army and consequently Embraced on the battlefield after falling to enemy in the Battle of Monmouth during the American Revolution. As vampires (especially in this Malkavian’s case) sometimes do, they migrate to different locations for one reason or another. However, prior to Russell’s journey from the East Coast to the West Coast, Russell had the unofficial title as the clan’s whip. He also had the honor of getting revenge over the murderer of his Primogen shortly after he was elected into the position as Primogen. It was for this act, the Prince granted him Right of Creation.

Allies

➺Big Joe is a mortal drug dealer who has bribed a policeman or two or three or more and also has access to some other nifty gigs, like that one time he helped Peter get rid of a dead person without the Prince knowing.

Domain • Herd • Retainers

➺Deliroe, Victor - '41' year old technician
➺Deliroe, Melanie - '39' year old stay-at-home wife and mother
➺Deliroe, Annie - '8' year old elementary school student and daughter.

Domain - Deliroe House

E.P.

𝓔sther 𝓟uniceus

☨

Kindred │ Ventrue │ 8^th Generation │ 800+

Dominate │ Fortitude │ Presence

𝓟ersonality

Cradled with the pompous peasantry of the Dream and clothed with the woven tapestry's of the truth's beautiful antiquities, Esther aligns her instrumental tune to the otherworldly harmonies with a gracefully pensive and distant ease of derision. Esther is steadfast in her beliefs and passive amongst conversations that try to sway her objective thoughts from her own knowledge of seeking. She prefers filling herself with the golden riches of history, and the past becomes ever more favorable in Esther's eyes as the secular lenses of modern society continuously kaleidoscopes into a crumbling entropy of foul smells and post-modern chaos.

She has little use for the workings of society and has given-up caring for coherence since the Romantic period, which was not as highly as elaborate or decadent as the lovely Baroque period. The intelligence of the World had dimmed its path in the likeness of the Enlightenment, and here she was, too pristine in her reflection to make small gossip about the dying world that the Camarilla was trying to preserve. However, it was true, this life was precious, each with its very own internal universe. Unfortunately, Esther can barely read the map of her own universal existence, lost to the soulless winds of the Embrace.

The Kindred's own journey has trained Esther to keep her nose nobly where it belongs, proven to be a much more efficient time spent of immortality, and thus, her dismissive, uninterested state could also be described as carelessly snobby, which is not too terribly far from the truth. In fact, it has been very well proven, she will not hesitate to bite when duty calls, as is tradition of her nature. For such reasons, she is seen with respect as an eloquently trusted keeper of secrets in certain parts of the Camarilla. However, playing puppeteer has never fancied this Ventrue. She prefers to be the one who purchased tickets to the show, sitting quietly in the shadows of the audience with her evening purse and date — judging the act.

𝓑iography

During the wake of the Long Night, the Sun was gleaming behind the triumphal arch of New Rome, offering a warm entrance of refuge from the setting Sun of the West as the Dream prospered in the haven of the smokey incense and reflective grandiose splendor like a golden halo in the midst of the Dark Ages. It was the end of the 11th Century when the illuminating manuscriptured Monastery of Studius was sliding from the centre of Byzantine religious poetry. However, despite the disposition, during this ending era of glorious hymnography, Esther Poniceus was born to a noble family, graced with prosperous wealth and an abundance of lavish privileges. Her parents raised her with great strictness through private tutors for education and the arts, grooming her in hopes of a more prominent future than the one they inherited from their ancestors. The same treatment was granted to her other siblings, dressed in the same vestments of honor and truth. Above all, the Poniceus family was taught the importance of upholding the beautiful, and in such a time, it was hard to miss the ancient beauty that embellished their furnishings and lifestyle.

The crude of their living was received as a merciful gift of Confession and the ever-flowing miracle of the Eucharist. There were threads of hope, sewn into silk garments that held true to Esther's heart that one day she might be chosen to be Empress if her prayerful life could be magnified. However, as time seemed to pass, fleetingly in perspective amongst aristocrats, there seemed to be no significant worth in holding her material riches so close to her heart. The fine scents and soft weaves were illusions of what was yet to come, as taught by the scholars of the Roman Empire. The only warmth she could find was from the burning flames that flickered on the Holy Table and the skip in her heartbeat when the taper-bearer Rodericus Terzi illumned the Divine Litrugy on the path walked by the hypodeacon. No riches in the world could express the burn of her rosy emotions flushed inside the embroidery of her head covering when she watched him light the candles.

Esther's prayers were not unnoticed by Rodericus. Perhaps it was her patterned attire, richly dyed and fitted for regalia, binding her to the costumes of the mosaic saints depicted on the walls of the Church. While mutual matrimonial love existed during he Dream, Esther's privileged lifestyle condoned any sort of romance between the two neighboring parties involved. For the Poniceus' family, Rodercius was not as wealthy of afamily and sharing Holy Matrimony with him was the antithesis of how Esther was raised. For the Terzi family, a covenant had been made that Rodercius would denounce the world and wear the monastic vows of a new name while abiding his remaining time inside the teachings of the Monastery of Studius. The two disciples were adamant not to part from each other but also determined not to be disobedient to the will of their parents, most often associated with that of the Divine Will. Both conjured a plan for Esther to cross-dress and join the Monastery. And that is what they did. At the age of sixteen, Esther disappeared from her home to took up living as a monk, side-by-side former Robericus for three years.

In 1204, the Crusaders destroyed the Monastery. She watched as the murals and pillars holding the city together were pillaged, alongside many of her brothers and elders that dwelled in the monastic family. The Esther was not spared during the Lasombra attack. She tried to find Rodericus before making her way to the Cathedral for protection. However, she failed broken-heartedly in both attempts and was capture, and for the first time during her monastic struggle, it was discovered that there was a female living abreast the monks, untouched and unsoiled.

She was miraculously saved by an Elder Monk who having gone to protect the Library of Saint Jean Studius, Elder Thaddeus, a Ventrue, bestowed some sort of mercy upon her as a young virgin, attempting to fend off the hungry Crusaders who had maimed and heavily wounded the nun before attempting to deflower her. Elder Thaddeus was willing to die protecting the Library, but it must have been Esther's astonishing rendition of expose that turned his attention to save the rarity from perishing. The obedient Kindred, having willed her mortal life as a nun for a romantic relationship that would never blossom in the likeness of Marriage was righteous in purity and blood. There was no doubt in his mind that she would make a worthy Ventrue, full of dignitas and noble respect for the etiquette of the Clan:

Elder Thaddeus instilled in her the knowledge that she had saved him the night of her Embrace; yet he had also died that night in Face for having withdrawn his aid from the Library of Saint Jean Studius. She was not to disrespect him in any way, shape, or form. He was her Sire even after Final Death. Thus, her training was founded on the obedient hierarchy of which granted her First Death. He taught her the Truth and opened her eyes to the powers of the Undead. Elder Thaddeus thickened her knowledge and skin with trials and tribulations, all to be expected of him as a Ventrue Sire. He unveiled the lies she had been living as a human and stripped her cassock for more worldly beauties that resounded trinkets of delicate lace and frou-frou intricacies of the historical ordination that was paving the carpets in the World of Darkness. However, underneath her feminine assuage, a masculine boldness was pressed under her thumb: For the love of Rodericus, under the dearest Obedience of Elder Thaddeus, she would honor the Dark Father, through Enoch the Wise.

After her acceptance as a Ventrue, Esther made her way to the Empire of Nicea to live under Anna Comnena and made herself useful with the calligraphic education from the Monastery of Studius, by corresponding and helping transcribe the traditional manuscripts sought forth by John III. This skill later resurrected itself for her after the shattering death of the Marble Emperor John Paleologus Constantine in 1453 and the awakening from the Dream, when Esther continued pursuing the dead Cainite Dream, theorized as a Third Rome gloriously under Moscow’s gold, shining forth like the halos of New Rome during the Darkness Ages and helped the Kindred against the Lupine. The Ventrue traced her works with the literary genre of hagiography in pleasure to the Toreador (as her secret honor to Mi-ka-il's desertion of Western Rome) and preserved the art through the Enlightenment and sacredly scribing her political career eventually with the Russian's new found love of ballet and then as the Russian-American Company recorder who covered the details of the Camarilla's workings in North America on Kodiak Island (infamously known for Abbot Symeon Ivanovich Yanovsky's misinterpretation of the hagiography of Saint Herman of Alaska spread by of Valaam Monastery).

A year after the War of 1812 fueled between The United States of America and the British Empire and the end of the Russo-Persian War, she was captured by the Society of Leopold, under the guise of Inquisition of the Jesuit Order, imposing themselves on the heretics of the Russian Orthodox Church — as Esther reported incorrectly. There were many others taken captive and imprisoned Mission Dolores, California and eventually martyred. Esther escaped with several others by an acquaintance of her sire. The Kindred's alternate identity was "Ivan Kiglay." The Ventrue is still unsure of what his real name is, but there was something unquestionably stern about the Malkavian's presence that made inquiring further on his truth would be disrespectful and thus a strike against Elder Thaddeus.

Ivan and Esther took refuse in Fort Ross for some years. Ivan claimed that there would be a Rebellion that would oust the Kindred Princes in Russia; the golden opportunity would be snuffed by an iron shadow. His presence was needed in the conducting of political affairs in Fort Ross as the Russian presence became more influential. When Don Sebastian became Prince in 1870 of San Pedro, Los Angeles, Esther parted ways with Ivan, finding more dignity in the artistic developments conspiring south of For Ross. It was in Los Angeles that Esther resided under the Camarilla with anthological literacy and helped flourish the City of Angel's poetry scene through her Ancient hymnography skills. She has weaved herself through the music culture, keeping strictly to the fundamental classics that have helped pave the foundation for several celebrities in the pop light. Esther also has a strong hold in connecting the past to the present and operates several museums in Los Angeles. Despite the Civil Wars and political upheavals, Esther has kept to the shadows as opposed to exercising her Ventrue lust for power. There is a time and a place for everything, and as an Kindred, Esther has found that doing everything at once takes way too much time for such a short immortality.

NPCs

➺ Grigoriev, Alexandra - Esther's Retainer, Ghoul, and daylight operator of her Domain. She is carrying on Yuri Grigoriev School of Ballet (see below) legacy.

➺ Grigoriev, Yuri - Esther's Childe. Esther embraced him several years ago. His whereabouts are currently off the scene of the Yuri Grigoriev School of Ballet. He is in communication with the Federation of Russia through the Russian Orthodox Church, holding ties with Patriarch Kirill.

➺Hanks, Tom - Esther's Ally. He is a famous American actor and filmmaker and is known for his comedic and dramatic roles. He attends the same church that Chester Charles Bennington and Chris Cornell attended.

➺ Kiglay, Ivan - Kindred friend to Major Russell Bell, the Malkavian Clan Whip and also, Sire of Peter Lapin (see below).

➺ Lapin, Peter - A Malkavian she has been bound with duty to protect in respect to "Ivan Kiglay."

➺ Miracle Mile - After the opening of Disneyland, Esther acquired the Neighborhood. Miracle Mile offers Esther a hand in shadowing her Ventrue powers as part of her domain.

➺ Rosu, Skander - A Toreador with a liking for business with Esther.

➺Yuri Grigoriev School of Ballet - The Domain operated by her Retainer and Ghouls who teach. (see above).

O.A.B.

𝓞ren 𝓐ndre 𝓑erry

☨

Kindred │ Brujah │ 8^th Generation │ 400+

Celerity │ Potency │ Presence

𝓟ersonality

As a definitive being, his life revolves around one word. That word is wit. It comes to the Kindred naturally, and quite frankly, he enjoys every moment of it. Unlike many of his species, turning to their elaborate backstories of power and gain, the dark skinned villain prefers to keep it simple for the stupid folk out there. Yes, he could brag about all his conquests and admirers and the dark glories won within the Masquerade. However, he has always patiently endured the long-suffering struggle of giving a positive spin to the world of darkness and stylized his being not around murder and madness but the simple word, wit. It is perhaps for this reason, his maybe great-grandson became one of Russia's most famous authors -- Alexander Pushkin.

𝓑iography

When the proliferation of arts and sciences attempted to brightened and adorn the already magnificently enlightened Russian Empire, Oren "Andre" Berry found his way from Africa to the land of the Golden Onion Domes and raised under the roof of the Emperor's household as his Godson. At the time, his name was known as Abram Petrovich Gannibal. However, he had not been a kidnapped orphan from Africa by any means. He had been a newly turned Kindred from the Horn of Africa by the hands of a Brujah named Josiah Abede, and Russia was his first demand under his sire. Andre's prosperous admiration under the nobility helped spearhead the Brujah Council as the centuries progressed. When the Revolution of 1917 failed to allow the Brujah the proper lead, Andre found himself backhanding many other Brujah during the quarrel, including his Coterie Pyotr Andreyevich Tolstoy.

The Iron Curtain unveiling the stage for the Communist regime over Russia offered a new proposal for the Brujah's relations within the Soviet Union and the Masquerade, to leave the Giant Bear and head to the coast of California, where he helped spark the Speak Easies of the Roaring 20's during the Prohibition. The shift proved to be unusual for him, coming from a more pompous background to a suddenly relaxed but rigid Western style of living. The booze proved itself lucrative in expanding his palate of underground workings with the Union as a continued Anarch.

During World War II, he helped bring Kindred from the Old World to the New World. Domains were strained because of this process, and he fought in the Second Anarch Revolt in 1944 after Jeremy MacNeil arrived in California. Andre refuses to admit anything in regards to the death of Don Sebastian and might mention having shaken the hand of Jeremy MacNeil once or twice. In reality, he helped whip the Free State and acted as one of the secure fronts. Unfortunately, that front was invaded by none other than Salvador Garcia. He fled with the rest of the Anarch Baron's entourage, and has recently just come back into town. He has raised a Kindred ears, but it's not like he really knows what happened to the infamous Brujah. He only shook his hand once or twice, and face it, looking at his track record, it's really just his wit that anyone needs to mention and perhaps, his love interest in someone a little closer to the Kid than he will ever be -- Eva.

NPCs

➺ Popov, Kisa - Originally a young girl in the USSR who was raped by her father and put into a psyche ward after being forced to get an abortion. After the abortion, she carried around a doll, convinced it is her daughter. She was embraced by a Doctor in the psyche ward and later abandoned to a Tzimisce who later escaped to the United States to work on experiments involving and not limited to MK-Ultra and Project Artichokee. They came to Houston for business with the University of Texas Psychiatric System and the Houston Space Center, where Kisa became the Malkavian Whip, after they took her doll and use it was hostage to control the Kindred. She also met Andre during her time in Houston, and he witnessed her rising through the ranks of the Camarilla. She has little to do with the Anarch kindred, but finds that she inattentively gets pulled into his own world of darkness from time-to-time due to her Russian lineage. He loves pulling on her leash and mocks her every time for cooperating as a messenger for him.

➺ Puniceus, Esther - Esther helped rewrite Andre's background history as Abram Petrovich Gannibal.

➺ Tolstoy, Pyotr Andreyevich - Andre's Coterie and writing comrade. Both helped with the Brujah Council and are still keeping up to-date as long time penpals, slipping through every loophole of the Anarch and Camarilla.

➺ Lapin, Peter - A Malkavian he has started putting under his wing after making contact with Esther Puniceus upon returning to Los Angeles.

[Bloodrose]

Violetta

Name:

Violetta Kyborowski

Age:

Appears mid-twenties to early thirties.

Species:

Kindred (Clan Ventrue)

Disciplines:

Dominate, Fortitude, Presence, Potence (gained through diablerie).

Generation:

7 through Diablerie (8th upon embrace).

Appearance:

It is unusual for Vi to be seen smiling. She often wears a cold, grim expression, whilst an unwelcoming look burns in her steadfast gaze.

The scourge dresses stylishly, but not to the point of ostentatiousness. She favours a sort of elegant minimalism.

Not particularly tall, or brawny, Violetta stands at average height, and boasts a fairly ordinary build. Her hair is cut somewhat shortly, and her petite form is coated in a myriad of eccentric, twisting tattoos.

She carries herself well, maintaining the resilient posture of a staunch business woman.

Vi

Personality:

Vi is a cold, steely woman.

Whereas many entrepreneurs favour charm, and allurement, this kindred’s weapon of choice is fear. She terrifies her prey, using pragmatic precision to strike fear into the hearts of her enemies.

She has the fierce determination of a warrior, and the dispassionate practicality of a schemer.

Violetta does not preen and perform, as many at elysium do. She has no interest in flimsy platitudes, or banal niceties. She carries herself with relentless determination, and has earned herself a reputation as someone who is not to be fucked with.

Biography:

The Kyborowskis are old blood, deeply ingrained into the pedigree of the slavic world. Before the second world war, the Kyborowski’s were a distinguished revenant family, in service to the Tzimisce Maria Bassevi.

Bassevi met her final death at the hands of the Third Reich, and the Kyborowski clan was shattered into withering disorder.

Vi’s family migrated to the UK in 1947, following the Polish Resettlement Act. Violetta herself was born in England, in London, and grew up as the youngest sibling in a large, raucous household.

As a young woman, Vi’s first “proper job'' was selling weed, for some of the petty local gangs. It was during this time that the future-Ventrue came to realize that she had an aptitude for business, and a keen entrepreneurial mind.

She would shortly pursue a more legitimate career, using her profits to support herself, whilst she obtained a degree in business studies, which swiftly served as her gateway into a career in banking.

Violetta excelled at her job, via a deadly combination of backstabbing and plotting. Within two years of starting her career at Bradford and Bingley, the young woman had become the managing director of her branch of the bank.

Shortly after, Vi was brought on-board as a senior-analyst, at Grimoard Asset Management. Unbeknownst to the up-and-coming business tyrant, the hedge fund group was an instrument of Anne Bowesley, the ventrue prince of London.

Whilst working at Grimoard, Violetta caught wind of attempted corporate espionage, by infiltrators working on behalf of the firm's competitors. Vi responded mercilessly, using connections from her days as a drug dealer to have the moles framed as sexual predators.

It was this devious ploy which drew the self-proclaimed vampire queen of London’s gaze upon Violetta, and quickly lead to Vi’s embrace, at the hands of the prince of London.

Having been enthusiastically accepted into the ranks of the Ventrue, Violetta continued to demonstrate her cunning and commercial-acumen. Vi was swift to secure herself a reputation as an avaricious, and hard-hearted hunter.

Violeta spent many years enjoying the unlife of a scourge in London. Queen Anne’s cutthroat attitude towards unregistered kindred in her domain meant that many unfortunate refugees were considered to be fair-game by the Camarilla, if they fell outside of the Court of London’s protection.

This ruthless environment was ripe for exploitation by the Ivory Tower’s more bloodthirsty up-and-comers, and Vi thrived within it - quickly expanding her power and influence, at the cost of untold unfortunate souls.

During her stretch as a scourge of London, Violetta thwarted a plot by the anarch agitator Alessandro Luzzago against the Ivory Tower, decimating his coterie in the process. It was during this time that the young ventrue adopted her sire’s predilection for diablerie, and drank Luzzago’s soul.

Eventually, having grown increasingly impressed with her childe’s initiative, Queen Anne assigned Vi to work directly beneath Cyril Masters, the ventrue sheriff of East London, and master manipulator of the city police.

Vi was still working as a bounty hunter for Masters when Operation Antigen sprung into action, and the Second Inquisition launched their attack on the Kindred of London, during 2012.

As London’s Ivory Tower fell, Violetta fled to the US, joining the West Coast Camarilla, and Vannevar Thomas’ crusade against the Anarch’s. As a prominent member of Thomas’ court, she reports to Teach, the Camarilla-aligned Brujah sheriff of LA.

[ReedeThe23rd]

Herr Hofmeister

Name: Luther Hofmeister
Age: Actual Age of Approx. 800 years, Physical Appearance Age of 30
Species: Kindred, Clan Tremere
Powers/Skill: Uses Auspex, Dominate, and general Thaumaturgy like many of the Clan, but places particular emphasis on Thaumaturgy's Paths of Movement of the Mind, Conjuring, and the infamous Lure of Flames.
Generation: 8th

Appearance:

Luther stands at an average five foot ten inches and with a proportionate, if undefined, body shape and muscle tone characteristic of a healthy bookworm. His hair has rested in the same careful cut trimmed and shaped around his head since the days natural blood flooded his veins, with a carefully-sculpted beard defining his upper lip, jawline and chin in a similar fashion.

For normal wear among the Kine and those Kindred not of the Clan, Luther dresses in a finely-tailored, Austrian-made three-piece suit consisting of a blood red collared shirt, and matching black tie and trousers. His usual footwear are firm, polished leather jackboots, and he regularly dons a long, gray double breasted coat. A ring bearing the symbol of Clan Tremere adorns his left ring finger.

When among others of his Clan and blood, his outfit becomes much more traditional. A set of flowing red-gray robes give him the usual scholarly appearance expected of the Warlocks, if a bit old-fashioned for many of the newer members.

Personality:

Luther Hofmeister is an old Kindred, and it shows. He carries himself with wisdom, authority, and a healthy dose of arrogance characteristic of all Elder Kindred. He does not consider himself to be wholly above all others, however, and has high respect and courtesy to those who have proven themselves capable, reliable, and hard-working. He has a personal fondness for those who show themselves to be open to study of the mysteries of the universe, whether they be Kindred or otherwise, and adores sharing trivial knowledge of the occult arts and mystic sciences with those of similar ilk, though the secrets of real power remain with him.

When it comes to Clan Tremere, its ilk, and their secrets, he's a vehement loyalist to the bitter end. He continues to practice their customs and traditions even in the face of the collapse of the Clan, and his wandering across the globe is as much a catalog of the status of the Tremere in various corners of the world as it is a quest for knowledge and survival. The pyramid hierarchy may have had its blood bonds broken, but in the mind of Herr Hofmeister, it is alive and well.

Biography:

Luther’s history stretches back to the Middle Ages, to the very beginning of Clan Tremere. Unlike the other Kindred clans and bloodlines, the Usurpers tie their history to another supernatural element of the night, the Mages of the Order of Hermes and their former House Tremere followers. Luther’s foray into the supernatural began here, as one of the last members inducted into the ranks of the Mages of House Tremere, and thus one of the last Embraced into the numbers of Clan Tremere. The conversion to Vampirism took from House Tremere the source of their original Hermetic magic, the spiritual Avatars that allow a Mage to work their forces. With the physical death of their bodies, the Mages of Tremere also experienced the loss of their Avatars, for the soul connection forged could no longer exist without a soul.

This loss is something that has driven Luther’s career ever since. Having been a member for only the briefest amount of time before his Embrace, the loss was sudden, and has clung to the edges of his mind for nearly a millennium now. As the newly-founded Clan studied their condition and learned to manipulate the powers of vampirism, many in the Clan desired to find a way to either use the powers of their condition to forge new connections to Avatars in an attempt to restore their magic, or to emulate their lost abilities through the use of Vampiric powers such as the signature Thaumaturgy discipline the Clan had developed. Among those who worked Thaumaturgy in an attempt to recover or replace their lost magic was Luther, and this desire quickly helped him climb the ladder of the forming Tremere Hierarchy.

Over the centuries, Luther would begin to study and help shape several of the Paths of study known to Thaumaturgy users. Over time, the Paths would begin to diverge from traditional assumptions about Blood Magic, and begin to resemble the magic lost to the Clan years ago. The abilities of telekinesis, conjuring matter from thought, and even creation of fire became known to Luther, but still the connection to a new Avatar eluded the Kindred of Clan Tremere.

As the modern era grew ever closer, Luther’s studies kept him more and more involved in the chantries of Europe, with his conventional understanding of the global environment horribly outdated. Perhaps this is why the attack on the Vienna Chantry in 2008 by the Second Inquisition took him by such shock. While many Kindred of the Clan met their final death in that attack, he was able to slip away undetected, and begin to make a retreat across the lands.

In the twelve years following the attack, Luther’s journeys took him first across Europe, and then over the Atlantic to the United States, all the while stopping at any and all Tremere Chantries and havens he could uncover or remember, gathering records and forging contacts within the survivors and remnants of the Clan. As he ventured, he quickly grew to understand the world as it was now, and how to handle situations he never would have imagined in older nights or while cooped up in Vienna. As he trekked across the US and learned more from the American Tremere, he found himself drawn to the city of Los Angeles, one known for changing hands rather often. But between the battles of the Camarilla, Sabbat, and Anarchs, there was always a constant. The Tremere Chantry of LA. The next, and possibly last, stop on Luther’s journey.

Stalks-The-Booze

Name: Stalks-The-Booze, goes by Mitch outside of Garou-savvy circles.
Age: 40 in both looks and reality
Species: Werewolf
Powers/Skill: Favors Gifts that aide survival on the streets and general sewing of chaos and havoc. He's also one of the lucky Bone Gnawers with a long-lasting possession to their name: A rusted, hollowed-out Volkswagen Type 2 that doubles as a place to sleep. Don't ask about the fuel, though.
Tribe/Auspice: Bone Gnawer Ragabash

Appearance:

In his natural Homid form, Stalks-The-Booze is a gruff middle-aged man of vague Slavic descent, who hides his defined face under a shaggy, grimy mane of long black hair and beard. His large, wiry build is hidden behind dirt, grime, scars, and a hunched posture that belies his six foot three height. His only outfit is a hodgepodge of patchwork trousers, worn and rugged combat boots, and at least three coats over a ragged turtleneck. A winter beanie cap lines his head, and every pocket and groove seems to store a myriad of seemingly-useless items of questionable value, though one staple is a hip flask that seems near-bottomless whenever he drinks from it.

In Glabros form, Stalks-The-Booze's hair and beard grow even longer and more ragged, which helps hide some of the more monstrous features of the form that teeter along the edge of the Veil. His layers of clothes help accommodate for the increased muscle mass and tone as well.

In Crinos form, his clothes and human hair give way to the standard werewolf form, covered in shaggy, knotted gray-black fur. While many of the Garou War forms take the shape of hulking beasts that could tear a car in half, Stalks-The-Booze's War Form is a fair bit more agile and limber of build, lending to the nature of the Bone Gnawers and the Ragabash as sneaks and stalkers of the dark.

In Hispo form, Stalks-The-Booze resembles a massive prehistoric Dire Wolf, though with a similar bent on agility and stealth like his War form. The fur of this form begins to take on more of a gray hue, with much of the black being relegated to his head and back.

In Lupus form, Stalks-The-Booze's limber build and gray-black fur give him the vague, if not wholly convincing appearance of being more of a wolf-dog hybrid than a pure wolf. Only the dimwitted, poor-sighted, or careless would completely buy such a disguise, but many would be surprised at just how often it works.

Personality:

Stalks-The-Booze is almost the perfect definition of a Bone Gnawer Ragabash, or at least what those familiar with the terms might expect. A drunk, homeless bum with a penchant for theft, vandalism, destruction of property, and a spirit that's more than a bit too in-touch with the Wyld. Stalks-The-Booze is well aware of the type of personality he gives off, and he leans into it hard.

To those he doesn't have a vested interest in, he's just a mangy wolf-dog who cackles like a hyena, sticks his muzzle where it doesn't belong, vanishes at the first sign of trouble, and reeks of hard liquor. To those who've earned it, he's a shrewd spymaster, cunning fighter, wise critic, and a master boozebrewer.

In his own heart, he's an unconventional thinker who feels the best savior of the Garou Nation, and humanity as a whole, is saving the supernatural world at large from the humans themselves. To him, every human who's ever staked a Leech, burned a Witch, or excised a Spirit is a hole in the veil that needs patching, and if that means working with Leeches, Witches, and Spirits to do it, then by Gaia and Rat it'll be done.

Biography:

Before his First Change, Mitch was already fitting the stereotype of a Bone Gnawer rather well. A high school dropout making ends meet by selling recycling cans and scrounging junkyards, it's a wonder the Gnawers didn’t already have him around as Kinfolk before it happened. But it's easy to lose track of one man in the streets of LA, especially when he hasn’t yet transformed into a hulking wolf-monster. But when he does, it’s like a neon sign saying “Come get me!”

The Tribe found Mitch in the scrapyard of one of the city’s train depots, tearing a pair of guard dogs to ribbons. After the Garou equivalent of an argument, they finally brought him back to his natural Homid form, and dragged his unconscious body back to Tribal grounds. After waking him up with a boot to the head and a splash of god-knows-what, they gave him the rundown and introduced him to his family.

It wasn’t long after that they set him upon his Rite of Passage, and it was certainly one befitting the Tribe. The goal was to strike a blow at one of the corporate holdings of the Wyrm-controlled Pentex organization. The target was a massive triple-trailer transport truck full of King Breweries-brand Wyrm-tainted booze. Mitch and his first pack needed to find a way to dispatch the cargo before it made its first dropoff. What should have been a simple case of “Hijack the truck and drive it into the bay.” became a whirlwind adventure of “Drive across the city chasing this damn truck.”

It was during this trial that Mitch picked up the same trusty van he still operates today. Having just lost track of the truck, Mitch rushed his pack to a nearby car graveyard, where he jump-started an abandoned van, loaded the pack inside, and began tracking down the truck in question. Cutting through alleys, weaving through traffic, and using the guidance of a friendly spirit, they managed to follow the truck to a dockside convenience store.

It was there that the pack quickly stopped the delivery of the first shipment, the pack’s Theurge worked a Gift to drive any existing Wyrm spirits from the drinks, and a cinderblock on the gas pedal drove the now-clean shipment into the waters of LA’s oceanfront. Upon returning to the tribal grounds with the driver’s company ID as proof of their feat, celebration for passing the Rite was dolled out, and Mitch became known to others of his kind as ‘Stalks-The-Booze’ for his efforts in tracking the cargo truck.

In the years that have passed, he’s worked his way up the proverbial totem pole of the local Sept, taking the position of Warder and thus garnering a bit of room to work and operate independently, directing younger warriors and operatives in the Sept while working his own plans and schemes. His unconventional views on cooperation with others of the supernatural spawned from this, and as a long-term cover to those he doesn’t want prying in, he quickly took up the guise of a drunkard, learning many a Gift that help summon food and drink for a ‘party’ atmosphere, using the back of his van as a makeshift home distillery, and even making a fetish out of a dinged up, old hip flask to infinitely refill itself(unbeknownst to others, it’s only full of booze when someone that’s not Stalks holds it)

As the new decade opens, and the city once again becomes rife with conflict and strife, Stalks-The-Booze begins working his plans into action, hoping to rally together both his Sept and other creatures of the shadows to strike against those that would see them all destroyed.

[Lightning Fast]

Mihail Dobrescu

Name: Mihail Dobrescu (nicknamed “Count Blockula”)

Age: 21

Species: Human (Hunter)

Powers/Skills: Around-the-basket finishing, rim protection, defense. He is working on his three-point shot, but it is not quite there yet. He also speaks four languages: English, Hungarian, Romanian, and Vlax Romani.

Generation: N/A

Appearance: The first thing one will notice about Mihail is that he is tall. At 7’1, he is definitely one of the tallest people in Los Angeles, which is saying something given the city’s population. He has very short dark hair, blue eyes, and long, lanky limbs. While clearly athletic, he moves in a manner some might find clumsy. When not on the court, he can be seen wearing a navy blue tracksuit, or a casual t-shirt and shorts. Though his salary affords him some luxuries, he is used to the austere life of rural Romania, and so doesn’t have much drip to speak of except for a nice watch and a silver ring which belonged to his father. The ring bears a Romanian Orthodox crucifix and is allegedly magical, though Mihail is not sure what it does or how it works.

Mihail wears #45 for the Los Angeles Lakers. His jersey has sold very well in Romania, though until recently he was less well-known in Los Angeles.

Personality: Mihail is a fairly relaxed and friendly individual off the court, though somewhat shy around large crowds of fans... he is not used to the attention. Since his rediscovery of Los Angeles’ own World of Darkness, he’s been a lot more on-edge, and has few people to talk to about it aside from his mother. Mihail has a competitive streak, and is no stranger to multilingual trash-talk when engaged in a contest of physical skill. Although the glitz and glamour of the NBA haven’t changed Mihail too much, he perhaps enjoys the nightlife more than he ought to.

Biography

Mihail was born on January 1st, 2000, in Brașov, Romania, not too far from the birthplace of Vlad the Impaler himself. The Dobrescu Family had been prestigious vampire hunters dating back to the 1300s, and so Mihail knew about the World of Darkness from a young age. Despite the supernatural bonafides of his vampire-hunting father and Romani mage mother, his parents had no interest in the young boy pursuing the family business. The supernatural world was dangerous, and they did not wish to force the responsibilities of a hunter or mage onto the young Mihail. It was unavoidable that Mihail grew up aware of supernatural beings, but he was largely indifferent to their existence.

Perhaps due to some blessing given as a reward for past deeds, or some distant giant-blooded relative, there had not been a Dobrescu man in the last three hundred years who had not grown to be at least 6’8. The young Mihail was no exception. Despite the sport not having much of a following in Romania, Mihail naturally took to basketball. By the time he was 15, his skill and athleticism led his highschool to two local championships, and he’d received offers from American athletic prep schools.

But, as tends to happen with the supernaturally-inclined, tragedy struck. After two consecutive blocks from Mihail sealed a particularly close game against a divisional rival, Mihail and his mother Malina returned home to tragedy. Mihail’s father had been butchered in gruesome fashion, his body left crucified in the front hall in some sick mockery of religious imagery. Written on the ground in blood was an oath of vengeance, vowing to exterminate every member of the Dobrescu Family line in retaliation for all the vampires killed over the centuries. Malina and Mihail sold their property and fled the country shortly thereafter.

After finishing his last two years of highschool at a midwestern athletic prep school and attending two years of college at Duke University, Mihail declared for the 2020 NBA Draft. He was selected late in the first round by the Los Angeles Lakers. After a short stint in the G-league, Mihail began to find success as a rotational power forward and center for the reigning NBA Champions.

Roughly two months ago, Mihail had his breakout game. With the Lakers down by 21 points at the start of the 4th quarter and the stars out due to injury, Mihail was given significant minutes for the first time. He recorded twenty-two points, eleven rebounds, five assists, and four blocks in just twenty minutes of total game time. He played for the entire fourth quarter, bringing the Lakers back to eventually win the game 111-106. For his efforts, local media dubbed him “Count Blockula” due to his Transylvanian heritage.

Though he cannot explain this publicly, Mihail despises the nickname because he believed that when he came to Los Angeles, he would be done with vampires and the paranormal entirely.

He was wrong.

NPCs

Name: Malina Nechita
Age: 45
Species: Mage
Powers/Skill: Divination, crossbowmanship, healing

A thickset, 5’7, generally cheerful Romani woman. She is a pianist, and weaves wards against evil into her enchanting melodies. The lounge bar where she performs is a hotspot for upper-crust supernatural types, mostly fey, who appreciate the extra protection she provides. She keeps a silver-tipped hand crossbow hidden on her at all times. Don’t worry, she’s licensed to carry.

Unlike Mihail, who does his best to avoid the World of Darkness, Malina actively engages with all sorts of magical (non-vampiric) creatures.

Various Members of the Los Angeles Lakers Organization: Because he is a rookie with England as a fourth language, Mihail generally has a closer relationship with the younger players on his team. Mihail will try to be polite when asked about his more famous teammates, but is understandably tired of constant questions about them.

[Ezekiel]

Geneviève Pointe du Sandrine Dieudonné

Name: Geneviève Pointe du Sandrine Dieudonné
Age: 232 / 18-21
Species: Kindred
Clan: Toreador
Powers/Skill:

Auspex: As something of an agent of infiltration, Geneviève posseses a very keen sense of auspex, especially when she calls the vitae to enhance her ability to do so. One of the blessed kindred to whom far greater details than clan and power can be revealed through the skein of the blood vision, it is a skill that Geneviève has used to great use over the last pair of centuries.

Presence: How much of Geneviève’s eye catching drawn derives from her rural French beauty and how much from the power of the blood? The line is, as with many Kindred of the Rose, blurred at the best of times. A more subtle wielder of the art than some, it is never the less the most developed of her disciplines.
Celerity: While no expert elder, Geneviève is capable of reaching speeds not entirely registerable to the human eye, although she does not tend to sustain this for long.

Flush of Life: While not a a discipline in of itself, a quirk of her bloodlines and her strong connection to humanity has given Geneviève a very convincing control over the Toreader trick to appear one of the Kine. Most of the time her heart beats and she physically breathes, despite the lack of need to do so.

Generation: 10th

Appearance:



Personality:

Geneviève would be what one would consider kind by the standards of the Kindred, holding close to the Path of Humanity despite her general doubts about both kine and kindred as any kind of moral arbitraitor. Growing up as a devout Catholic, some concern for a greater power or sense of duty remains with her which is what she clings to for guidance, even with the knowledge any good the Church might have done has long been subverted by the warring factions of the Kindred. She retains a sense of levity and mischief as a further shield against losing herself, her general nature of which might often have her mistaken for a member of Anarch society on the West Coast. While no great fan of the elders pulling the strings behind the Camarilla, she is ultimately loyal to the sect, having personal reservations about the revolutionary fervour of the Brujah and Gangrel, while ultimately finding it more important for 'sensible' kindred to band together and halt the rise of the Sabbat than ripping eachother apart over a sense of freedom she does not neccesarily believe exists.

Biography:

Born in the rural french community of Pointe du Sandrine, on the southern coast of France, largely left behind by the enlightenment of the Renaissance. Geneviève was the daughter of the town mayor and carpenter’s eldest daughter, hardly the high echeclons of nobilty but certainly considered the wealthier folk of such small communties within which most of the French peasentry existed.

While this resulted in a far more bearable, if not entirely always comfortable, childhood, it made matters entirely worse once the flames of revolution sweapt through the countryside from the pyre of Paris. As with many of the particular strata of middle class associated with the Anciene Regime, such as the village priest and bondsmen of the distant nobility, her family suffered from the radical violence of the Reign of Terror after more conservative adjustments failed to placate the French revolutionaries.

Geneviève herself, at this point already a young woman engaged to a local officer of the Army and something of a local hero, survived mainly through this association and her fiancee’s decision to side with the Revolutionary army. When royalists forces rolled through Pointe du Sandrine and such an alleigance became rather less fashionable, Geneviève mourned decidedly little for the man who had been able to cast aside her family so easily, but in turn expected to die for her own association. In a sense, she did, but not by any means she could have imagined.

Unknown to herself and most of France, the Revolution was being written not just across the public face of France but also in a shadow war between beings as old as the nation itself. Driven out of Paris, the beating heart of France and the Camarilla’s power within the nation, the Court of Love fought to reclaim its stranglehold on the nation. One such creature rode with the royalists who retook Pointe du Sandrine. The Toreador, Chandagnac, a loyal servant of the deposed Prince François Villon. As is often the case with the Clan of the Rose, what drew the Prince’s childe to Geneviève was the whim of attraction, not to the admittedly faire looks of the golden blonde ‘farm girl’ but instead the bitterly determined yet nihilistic soul fostering within her. When the Royalist forces moved on, resupplied via patriotism and plunder, Geneviève was taken with them, but she had seen her last sunrise.

Chandagnac was not a dismissive sire as many kindred are, but that meant little good for the new fledgeling. Authoritative in a manner which suited the time of bloodshed that France had sunk into, his sadistic steak inspired him to see to break the flame within Geneviève rather than foster the spark that had drawn him in. Despite being a member of elite Kindred society, the life he provided was not comfortable either. Through many means the Court of Love looked to retake their hold on France in military and then clandestine campaigns which lasted well passed the kine’s understanding of the Reign of Terror. She was an unwilling tool in Chandagnac’s efforts to, initially, restore the Prince to France, and then when the strings of power grew too distant, to impose himself upon the Kindred of Paris. His campaign would fail at its zenith, not from an outside force but from the Childe he had looked to break, his enemies lured to defeat him before his latest scheme could come about.

By this time, Geneviève had grown weary of both the kine and kindred of her homeland, particularly of the civil wars which had raged the entirety of her relatively brief unlife. Perhaps by chance, or perhaps by the call of bloodline, she found herself joining Prince Villon in exile in London. Her status as a childe forged in the heart of war appealed to the poetic sensibilities of the elder Toreador and she enjoyed a relatively well protected position in the Prince’s court, if somewhat inconsequential. This suited Geneviève quite well, who had little desire to dive into the cutthroat politics of the Camarilla simply for a greater grasp of power. London was on the rise, and much of kine society still interested the relatively fresh kindred, living several consecutive ‘lives’ engaging with different aspects of the increasingly cosmopolitan city. While Prince Villon would eventually return to the rule of his city during the Napoleonic Era, Genevive opted to remain in England, acting as a liaison between the resurgent Parisian Camarilla and their London based interests grown over the intervening years.

Over these years, Geneviève grew closer to a pair of kine, a playwrite and a spy for the burgeoning British Empire, eventually taking them on as her ghouls, although they were never so much her servants as allies, and twin anchors to the waking world of mortals. Unlike many of her fellow Camarilla, she did not simply see the world through the lens of Kindred politics, but also the changing shape of mortal nations, identifying, unlike her elders, that the nations of man were growing ever more able to act beyond the parameters expected of their undead underlords. As the scramble for the new world turned into a series of colonial wars, she became increasingly invested in aiding the Camarilla backed British and French empires to best the Sabbat influenced Spanish Empire from maintaining a stranglehold on the future. For a kindred she became well travelled, journeying to the limits of Camarilla control in the near and far east, while briefly spending time along the Eastern Coast of the United States during the early twentieth century, aiming to win support in both kindred and kine society for the war effort against the Third Reich and the elements of kindred society supporting it.

This duty neatly trailed into the hidden conflicts of the Cold War, the War on Terror and within the supernatural nights, the issue of the Second Inquisition. This latest matter has proven more than simply a duty, a reminder of the Reign of Terror which begun her unlife. A second stint in the United States has become necessary, this time further West, among the Anarchs whom remind her too much of the endless Assemblies of the Revolution, the Camrilla Elders who make the same mistakes she has been warning against since the days of the Late Renaissance and Sabbat madmen, all on the orders of a Prince for whom she has a fading personable loyalty.

NPCs: (Any well fleshed out characters you will likely control, feel free to do micro sheets for them).

[Apollosarcher]

"Sic semper tyrannis"

Name: Abraham, Gaius, Praetor, and many more.

Age: Over two thousand

Species: Kindred

Powers: Fortitude, Potence, Celerity, Auspex, Necromancy

Clan: Caitiff

Generation: 7th

Appearance: He carries himself upright and with a quick step, remnants of his days on the march for glory and conquest. His list of names and titles is long, so the short and sweet name of Abraham was taken after an old friend. His clothes clean and freshly pressed, he carries himself well but their a sadness in him and tiredness. He looks remarkably alive for a Kindred, though he carries an aura of man who carries the weight of the world. His body is fit and lean, a surprising amount of scaring dots his chest and his chin is a familiar scar of chin strap from a Legion helmet. With raven black hair and short beard, he looks the part of a young soldier and even has the manners and discipline to prove it.

Personality

Personality: Rugged, careful, and patient. One does not live two thousand years without serious consideration and planning, even as a kindred it comes down to skill and planning. Yet behind his eyes there is a burning hatred, for himself, for kindred, for all his misbegotten species. To the mortals he meets he a caring and compassionate man, yet against vampires especially those that lord and rule over he colder than artic wind. For he believes that the mortal world ought to rule over all, that men kindred, not werewolves, or magic should rule over those mortals beneath them. An eternal soldier, who refuses to stand for anything but the man he once was and hopes to be again one day.

Bio

Biography: Once, long ago in the city of Pompey, he was the man, the general, the soldier Gaius Aurelias Antonius Britannia. Praetorian, general, commander, explorer, but most of all son of Rome. He was enthralled by a leader, a general, and a good man, at the end of the Republic... The world was short on those. So he followed into war, first in the Legion then from the back of a horse his uncle in politics and him exchanged letters often. His uncle a friend of Caesar noticed his skill an competence, so under the tutelage of the man who would birth an empire Gaius would find himself a personal guard to the conqueror. Then they set for Britannia, Gaius remembers the way Caesar brought order and strength to those savage lands. Even gaining his first true glory slaying a tribal chieftain and earning glory in battle after battle. This is when he first caught the eye of his betters, the kindred of the era took note as they realized

Gaius became a general when they decided to march on Rome, to take what they were owed and to save the Empire from the greed and stupidity of it's ruling elite. Yet as this clever and capable young general fought and won, with no other ambition than to serve his commander and people. When death of the Caesar came, he wept and swore to avenge the death of his leader at any cost. When it was won he faced a choice Octavian or his uncle Marc Antony? So blood being blood he swore to follow his uncle, but Clan Ventrue saw the winds blowing and bet on Octavian. In a Skirmish in Anatolia with Gaius would meet his end. Yet fate is strange, Ventrue's warriors fell upon the General and though the mortals were brave and honorable they could not hope to win. A miracle of sorts came, a woman, Gaius himself remembers muttering the name Bellona for she fought like a good of war struck down his foes. Then without a word of explanations she took the wounded general into her arms and drank of his blood... Then gave of her own, before collecting weapons and armor then vanishing back towards the desert.

Gaius awoke in the coolness of night alone and thirsting for blood, he drained half a dozen cattle that night before starting to realized what had happened to him. He could not go home, so he vanished only appearing rarely he learned much of what he could from others... More importantly he learned of the Ventrue's secretive rule of Rome, the secrets of the world he'd never fully understood as a soldier. But he knew one thing when he saw it, tyrants ruling in secret like cowards. Taking the alias Praetor he donned his old praetorian gear he would silently strike again and again, he had no one to educate him instead traveling from Europe to Asia and into Africa learning bits and pieces. But where he went he brought his sword and a promise, to bring low those who their power to become rulers and despots.

It would take centuries for him to start to understand what he was, by then he grown to view this as an order from Roman Goddess of war. Bellona had commanded him, bring war to those who had so quietly and underhanded ruled he would bring war in all forms to those like himself an eternal war for the freedom of mankind. The Praetor learned more as he violently survived year to year alone, feeding off animals or asking humans to offer him the blood in exchange for service. He never took or demanded of mortals, no instead he consume his own kind. Upon learning that the blood of another vampire could nourish him and kill them, he turned to that as a solution. He walked many paths in his new state sometimes with trusted friends, others with childer, and sometimes at the head of forces.

The Dark Ages as they are known were a tough time for many, yet when forces needed to hunt and kill a vampire a full plated warrior would arrive. He would teach knights how to decapitate, the cleansing power of fire, and remind the strength faith can have should they truly be devote. One could say Praetor was not only outside vampire culture but actively culling it, yet unlike so many of his kin he depends not on others but on his own hands. He lived in wilds, traveled from place to place served in armies and more. He chose a life spent learning to kill man, beast, or kindred at any turn. Serving with knights, mercenaries, and more from one side of the world to the other he fought and bled Cainites where ever he found them.

When the Masquerade began he learned to fade in among them, princes would hire a Caitiff to handle problems then one day when he was close he would kill the prince and vanish. He had one simple rule to his violence, no harm to mortals and no feeding without permission few took his threats seriously one Caitiff alone? What could they do? Over the centuries, quite a lot. Though as he grew older his targets became more powerful and high generationally the only way to feed well enough to survive without the topor. Fighting in one war to the next, from one continent to another he would one day be remembered Abraham. Taking the name from a friend of an Abraham Van Helsing with whom he had once challenged the rule Dracula unsuccessfully. Now two thousands years of warfare later he knows the final battle is coming, he knows he cannot fight the topor for many more years unless he commits Diablerie upon someone a greater rank than himself.

So he chooses to face the end times sword in hand, spitting in the face of his enemies ready to die a final death in much the way he died his first death.