The Final Nights close in, the time of Ending draws ever sooner. Yet the Lights must always stay on, the music must always play.
Clinging to the Pacific, to the Sunset Coast, Los Angeles has unknowingly sat at the heart of a great experiment for its entire modern history. The Anarch Free State holds 'barely' to unlife as the self-described last home of all free Kindred, fending off efforts from the other Vampiric factions of the world to snuff out its bright, but short in Vampire terms, existence. Vampires, the Kindred, have walked among humanity since the dawn of Civilisation, but rarely since the earliest days have Kindred held sway over the beating heart of human culture as they have from the City of Angels.
Vampires are not alone in the Darkness, however, other beings, malignant and otherwise, stalk the darkness of the Final Nights. The prophesied end of days, the year 2000, never came, and the world has remained ticking along two decades later, but the fragile bonds are showing the strain. Even as the Anarchs watch their Camarilla and Sabbat cousins with growing paranoia, a far more ancient foe of all Kindred has begun to hunt the hunters, staking them up for the Light of Day to expose their sins, if there is even enough left of them to stake up at all.
As all Kindred, all beings know, chaos is a ladder, and for the first time in many years the Throne of Los Angeles seems within reach.
This game is set in the World of Darkness as according to the latest source on the matter, the 5th Edition of Vampire: The Masquerade. While there are small alterations to canon as with any game set in the World of Darkness this is the basis from which we draw from. The Gangrel have left the Camarilla, the Lasombra have joined, and the world survived the key date, the year 2000, that was meant to mark the end of all things.
The beings of the other gamelines certainly exist, but the lastest Masquerade edition takes precedent for establishing the current state of the world and what has/has not occurred.
Los Angeles is in anarchy. To some in the Camarilla this may not come as a surprise, this is what they have presumed to be the case since the foundation of the Free State, they do call themselves Anarchs, after all. This, however, is ultimately different. Over the last few decades the overall leadership of LA has been in question, changing hands from Princes to Barons and back again. Sebastian LeCroix was the last Kindred to having any real claim to praxis of LA, and he did so in the name of the Camarilla. Even then, the outer districts of the city remained firmly in Anarch hands.
Behind the throne, however, the ancient Toreador, known to many as simply 'The Kid' was the real power in LA, and indeed, much of the wider Anarch Free State. It was his influence, admittedly erratic at the best of times, that has kept the Shining Beacon of Hollywood from ripping itself apart in Supernatural frenzy. Recently, the Kid has failed, gone or dead, it matters little to the Kindred and Kine of the city of who few even knew of his existence. In his place, true Anarchy, and a throne of legend revealed and left empty.
Rivalry is not the only, even the greatest, threat to LA however. An ancient evil draws closer, awakening conflicts far older than the city, than the entire nation, weaving a web of intrigue that closes tightly around the Kindred and other beings of LA. The Glasswalkers, Garou with supreme command of technology and other arts of great power in these modern nights, have begun to work far more actively to seek out and destroy the Kindred they share the city with, and the human hunters of the supernatural have grown ever more powerful and accurate in their crusade. The Final Nights draw near.
OOC Hi there and thanks for reading! The above is a basic plot introduction for a World of Darkness game centred on Los Angeles during the current year. The world did not, as it happened, end in the year 2000 as many within the setting believed. This game ultimately centers around the Kindred (Vampires) of the setting but players are more than capable of creating other characters, be they ghouls, humans or other such unrelated, directly, to the Kindred. This is a largely 'open world' game within the setting of LA with a unifying threat and storyline. Expect both Garou (Werewolves) and very ancient vampires to play a part in this.
A general disclaimer as with any World of Darkness game is that game 'canon' is ultimately flexible and is more reliant on what the GMs believe suits the story. Part of the great joy of the setting is it's flexibility and that will certainly come through in this game. That said, 'canon' characters or variant of them are certainly open for players to pick up, just discuss it with me first.
Other such rules include an appreciation for the character of the rp, while it is freeform, there is an over reaching plot and a theme. We're talking clandestine creatures and beings of the supernatural in a grim reflection of our own reality, not unstoppable beings of ancient darkness free from all consequences. If you have any questions about that, feel free to pose them here or in our discord.
Character Sheet Name: Age; (actual/appearance) Species: (Kindred, human, werewolf, kuei-jin etc) Powers/Skill: (Including Disciplines/Equivalents for other gamelines) Generation: (If Kindred, or other gameline power ranking) Appearance: (Preferably a picture, can have written description as well) Personality: (Just a paragraph or so about how they usually conduct themselves) Biography: (A few paragraphs, or more, major events and the like) NPCs: (Any well fleshed out characters you will likely control, feel free to do micro sheets for them).
Character Sheets should be posted in the OOC or DM'd to me, then placed in the character tab when accepted.
“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 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.
“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:
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.
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:
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.
I've been trying to find the time to do a CS for this on top of my other RPs and moving apartments, and as much as I wish I had the time to be a part of this I can't seem to put anything together. If it's still accepting down the line I'd still love to join, and until then, wishing all you guys the best, but I'm going to have to drop for now.
“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 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.
“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:
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.
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:
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.
World of Darkness brings me back. Are we able to use stuff from Mummy: The Resurrection?
All the gamelines are ultimately open however there may be some which are more difficult to factor into the roleplay, I'd recommend discussing such things with us on the discord server :)
Age: 51 (The effects of aging have been nullified due to the Spell of Life therefore he retains the appearance of someone in their early-twenties ) Species: Amenti Dynasty: Sakhmu Hekau (Magical Path): Effigy
Powers/Skill: Dorian is an Amenti (also known as an undying), which is the outcome of the Great Rite where the spiritual remnants (Tem-akh) of a mummy from the Dark Kingdom of Sand binds with the recently deceased soul of a mortal who has Hamartia (or a hole within the soul). Unlike Vampires, Amenti are alive; as the have been restored to everlasting life by the Great Rite. Therefore, like mortals the need to eat, sleep, and breathe. Though, they no longer age and retain the vitality of a young adult. The physical vessel of an undying can be destroyed on this plane of existence like any mortal, but the Spell of Life ensures that they be resurrected. However, for an Amenti to experience true death one would have to either employ powerful spells/ rituals or expose the Amenti to a nuclear strike. In the hierarchy of the Amenti Dorian’s dynasty was determined to Sakhmu, which instills him with a powerful Khu (auru) allowing him to gain greater insight into matters than other Amenti. However, this powerful Khu makes him uniquely memorable even to mortals and it is impossible for himto go anywhere unnoticed. Effigy is magical path governing connections between things. Dorian can extend Sekhem (Lifeforce) to create small figures known as Ushabti to serve a servants, spies, or even soldiers. He can also craft a miniature replica of an relatively complex object (like a sword or a car) that can be turned into a full-sized object when activated.
Appearance: Before his re-emergence Dorian carried himself like royalty with an air of pretentiousness; he was a finicky and precise dresser, only clothing himself in the finest garments money could buy. His visage was usually plastered with a look of smug assurance or haughty boredom. However, since his impromptu sabbatical in Egypt something clearly changed about Dorian. He no longer walks with his nose in the air, he instead moves with unexpected humility and obeisance. The emotional mask he wore around others has given way to displays of genuine emotion. When he needs to exert power in an interaction, he does so subtly by speaking slowly and deliberately, slowing down the pace of the interaction, making others wait for him. If one were to stare deeply into his pale blue eyes, one could almost become lost in them; they are confident yet comforting. Despite the changes in his demeanor after his “trip” Dorian retained his alluring androgyny.
Personality:
Before his overdose and subsequent death Dorian lived a lavish lifestyle on his parent’s dime and certainly was not afraid to flaunt it; humility and humbleness were virtues unknown to him at the time. He found humor and pleasure in his cruelty towards others. People were disposable to Dorian, even those he is initially attracted to, there exists plenty of spurned lovers of his whom he rid himself of when the initial thrill of relationship subsided .The vastness of his parents’ coffers only fueled his persistent lack of ambition. Being narcissistic he was intrinsically afraid of failure and could not accept even the slightest piece of constructive criticism.; he exclusively surrounded himself with flatterers and bootlickers in order to never be challenged.
However, after readily accepting the offer of another chance at life as proposed by a Tem-akh he was fundamentally changed as his soul was relived of Hamartia and his eyes were opened to the reality of the world around him; everything…everyone was connected. How could have he been so self-centered before? Though as a mortal he never heard of Ma'at (the cosmic principle of virtue, justice and balance), it still beckoned to him and throughout his life he purposely ignored its call to instead pursue his vices. He joyfully wept at the thought of redemption. After years spent in Egypt after completing his Hajj Dorian returned to Los Angles with a new outlook on existence. His smugness was replaced with sincerity, his ennui with enthusiasm, his emptiness with fullness. His proverbial cup was running over with unbridled passion and boundless creativity. For the first time in his life Dorian had a purpose. He is a gentler wiser person than he once was. He is no longer a slave to his vices and addictions.
Biography:
Dorian was born into a life of wealth and privilege; the first-born son of a famous political family he was dotted on by his parents. The Amarinth political dynasty in California spans about a century in length and young Dorian was expected to carry on the family business per say. He spent his formative years having his every whim tended to by an army of servants and learning from the best tutors’ money could buy. He began drinking heavily and experimenting with heroin even before enrolling at Yale, and had an unsuccessful stint in rehab during his first semester. The responsibility for gaining a future political position was thrusted on to his more capable younger brother Oliver. Once he dropped out of university he was practically disowned by his family but was never officially cut off of his parents money in exchange for staying out of the spotlight.
With a practically unlimited budget Dorian retreated further into his vices died of and in a flophouse bathroom on the eve of his twenty-first birthday he succumbed to an accidental overdose of a mix of drugs including heroin, cocaine and amphetamines. He was for all intents and purposes dead. However, before his soul could be judged he was approached by a Tem-akh who offered to merge with him in order to give him a second chance at life.
When a tem-akh and a mortal soul join, the process is often traumatic for the mortal soul which temporarily cedes control of their body to the Tem-akh. The Tem-akh has control over the body and attempts to travel to Egypt to receive to receive the Spell of Life; this journey, is called the Hajj. Despite the low success rate the Tem-akh with help from those agents in the employ of the Ashukhi Corporation managed to reach Egypt to receive the Spell of Life and cement the bond.
Dorian Amarinth spent thirty years in Alexandria training and accumulating to his new eternal existence. He came to view the city as his second home, but Amenti are not expected to stay within the Web of Faith forever; reborn they have to leave the proverbial womb eventually. He was sent to help the Amenti and their allies gain a foothold in Los Angeles by driving out the minions in service to Apophis’ champion Set.
It normally appears to be a small hand-carved figurine of a Baboon, but Dorian can will the trinket to take the form of a living baboon servant. Once transformed the Ushabti would grow in size and would be indistinguishable from a flesh and blood baboon. He affectionately calls him Zaius.
Name: Oliver Amarinth
Age: 48
Species: Human
Occupation: Representative for California's 34th congressional district
The second-born son of a famous political family. Oliver attended military college at The Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina. Due to his stellar grades, he was accepted and graduated from Harvard Law School. The Amarinth political dynasty in California spans about a century in length and young Oliver was expected to carry on the family business in his brother’s stead. He always despised his older brother and was happy to overtake him as the prodigy of the family. When his lush of a brother disappeared all those years ago Oliver certainly shed no tears. After a few political setbacks at the age of 31 launched a successful bid for a seat in the United States House of Representatives. An intricate schemer Oliver worked with the various factions of Los Angeles to ensure his victory, though he is still unaware of their supernatural origins. An envelope recently arrived from a trusted benefactor while he was Washington helping to draft legislation, it contained a time-stamped polaroid of a figure resembling his presumed deceased brother departing a plane at Los Angeles International Airport; on the back of the picture written in black sharpie was a number to call. After a brief conversation Oliver was on a plane heading back to Los Angeles.
Name: Selim Basara
Age: 39
Species: Human
Occupation: Human Resources Agent for the Ashukhi Corporation
Selim Basara is officially listed as Egyptian National in the employ of Los Angeles branch of the Ashukhi Corporation; he allegedly works in the human resources department, but it seems he never has office hours. Selim Basara is Dorian’s official minder and bodyguard for the time being. He is not only there to help the Amenti gain a foothold in Los Angeles by driving out the minions in service to Apophis’ champion Set, but to also ensure that Dorian does not stray from the path of balance. A deeply religious man one can usual find him in the local mosque embroiled in a lengthy discussion with the Imam during his limited free time. He shares little about himself or his past, but it can be gleaned that he underwent some type of military training at some point during his life.
Name: Sings-In-Shadows
Age: 25
Species: Garou
Tribe: Bone Gnawers
Auspice: Galliard
Totem: Rat
Occupation: Leader of the "Diamond Dogs"
If the Bone Gnawers are considered the lowest rung of werewolf society then in hierarchy of those supernatural elements present in Los Angeles the "Diamond Dogs" would be the lowest rung of the lowest rung; even amongst other Bone Gnawers they are considered a joke much to the chargin of the leader of the street gang Sings-In-Shadows.
Sings-In-Shadows status as orphan given up at birth, is the lens through which he views society; despite his usual sardonic demeanor he intrinsically longs for connection and acceptance. Originally from Michgan he was shuffled around the state's Foster care system for years until he was placed in a youth detention center for petty crimes; in retrospect the youth's behavioural problems probably stemmed from his werewolf heritage. This rejection bred a lingering contempt for humanity and a society that he could never be a part of. He experienced his first change after escaping the confines of the reform school. On the run from the law he encountered a group of wandering Bone Gnawers amongst the dirfters he encountered; they sheltered him from the hardships of the road and took him in as kin. Eventually the group made it to Los Angeles where they incorporated themselves into larger Bone Gnawer community there.
It was purely by hapenstance that Sings-In-Shadows and the "Diamond Dogs" became involved with the Ashukhi Corporation; the group managed to intercept a correspondence meant for a rival gang offering them employment as emissarys and fact finders. Filled with previouly unknown charisma and charm Sings-In-Shadows managed to hoodwink the odd foreigners into using his gang instead.
As of late Sings-In-Shadows finds himself mesmerized by Dorian, who recently arrived from Egypt a few weeks ago. People seem naturally drawn to the mysterious figure as opposed Sings-In-Shadows whose curse drives most people away. He has been trying to talk to Dorian without his chaperone present in order to discover his secret.
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.
. “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.
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.
. “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.
