| Name: January Age: 1929 Look: Roman Man in Everyday Clothing Demeanor: Antiquated Stats ---- Blood: 2 Heart: 1 Mind: 1 Spirit: -1 Factions ---- Mortality: 1 (Marked) Night: 1 Power: -1 Wild: 1 |
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Intro
Who are you?
Gaius Hortensius Januarius. But most people call me January.
How long have you been in the city?
I'm not sure how long I've been here. The city was built around my resting place while I was asleep. I've been awake and active in the city long enough to set up a decent web though.
How do you keep your cravings in check?
There are a surprising number of people who are into vampires feeding on them in this city. I know a guy who points them my way in exchange for favors.
Who turned you?
I turned myself. I and a few of my friends performed a ritual to attain immortality. Those who survived became vampires.
What scheme are you invested in now?
I'm not usually one for scheming. I just amuse myself until I grow tired, then go back to sleep. But this time a have a pretty minor one going. Aliyah Schilling, the woman who has reintroduced me to the wonders of garum, is single and childless. I plan on changing that before I go back to sleep. The future of my garum supply must be secured.
Gear: A secluded apartment, a comfortable car, a smart phone.
Weapon: Sword (3-harm hand messy)
Debts:
• Someone makes sure you get fed regularly. You owe them 2 Debts.
• Someone relies on you for their fix. They owe you a Debt.
• Someone bears responsibility for you becoming a vampire. They owe you a Debt.
• Someone has reunited you with garum. You owe them a Debt.
• Someone saved you the trouble of fighting a quintet of demons. You owe them a Debt.
• Someone showed respect to your gods. You owe them a Debt.
• Someone is caught in your web. They owe you a Debt. (Burly Priest 1)
• Someone is caught in your web. They owe you a Debt. (Burly Priest 2)
Vamp Moves:
Eternal Hunger
Irresistible
Cold-Blooded
Someone makes sure you get fed regularly. You owe them 2 Debts.
Humani sanguinis, human blood. As a vampire, I have a taste for it and it's healthy for me to have myself a helping of it every now and then while I'm awake. Thankfully, a surprising number of people in Corvus Bay are into the idea of having vampires feed on them. You'd think I'd have no problem with that kind of quantity, but in truth my problems lie with quality. Just like how humans have a wide variety of foods, vampires have a wide variety of bloods.
Much like with humans and food, vampires prefer certain types of blood over others. They also prefer the aforementioned blood to not make them ill. That's why, like humans, an organization to grade and regulate blood has been set up. Once the blood has been confirmed to be drinkable, the owner of that blood is given the locations of secret nightclubs where can have themselves a good time while they wait to be selected as a drink by one of the club's vampire patrons.
Funnily enough, this whole process wasn't set up by a vampire. Rather, it was created by a pack of werewolves currently led by Lucas Ryder. Although he's a werewolf, Ryder has all the savvy of the very vampires he caters to. Once he took over his pack, the guy actually managed to get a pretty stable web going. It ain't as stable as a vampire's, but it's stable enough that I owe him two favors for coming to his clubs.
Someone relies on you for their fix. They owe you a Debt.
Anders Giroux, a young werewolf defending his patch of the city just like any other. And much like some of the more pessimistic lycanthropes, he's looking for a way out of the wolf life, or at the very least a way to control it so that he doesn't hurt anyone he cares about whilst the light of the moon brings out the beast, because apparently he's one of the unlucky lupi who can neither fight their change nor control themselves once the moon is out.
Anders came to me hoping for easy solutions, but sadly I had none to give. There were no easy solutions for his type of lycanthropy. The beast within him was simply to willful too bow to the normal methods of control. But that didn't mean he was beyond help. Just because there were no easy solutions, didn't mean there were no hard ones either. Even unruly wolves could be made compliant with enough effort.
So we came to an agreement. I would help him out with his control issues in any way I was able to do so and in return I could rely on him for help at a later date. Although after the corner store incident, I think I'll give his competence a little time to improve before I turn him loose on any of my problems.
Someone bears responsibility for you becoming a vampire. They owe you a Debt.
117 AD, the height of the Roman Empire. The year I was born anew. The year I became a vampire. In the dark of the night, I and thirteen of my friends undertook a ritual that year to attain immortalitatis. Seven of us died that night. Myself and the six other friends of mine who survived all did so as vampires.
To my knowledge, they're all alive and out there somewhere. It's hard for me to keep track of them. Especially when I spend decades at a time sleeping while they're up an about in the world. I've heard from all of them in the time since I woke up, but they're all scattered across the world, too far away for constant contact... Except for one.
Livius Ennius Quintus, or Quincy as he's referred to in the modern day. The one who discovered the ritual in the first place. He arrived in Corvus Bay a few years before I woke up. Quincy was always an envious guy. He was never satisfied with what he had, always coveting what he didn't own. It only got worse when he became a vampire. After that he fixated on something he didn't have and began taking as much of it as he could. Wealth, fame, power, horses, the list was as varied as it was endless.
Now though, he envies Mortality. This particular brand of envy manifested as a belief that as a vampire he was a vile and twisted abomination. As a result, he has embarked on a mad quest for redemption for what he has become. Normally I would have no strong feelings one way or the other about what my old friends get up to. But in this case, since his quest involves him owing me one to make up for leading me into vampirism, I'm supportive of his actions. Power to him, I say.
Someone has reunited you with garum. You owe them a Debt.
Garum, the ketchup of the ancient world. A finer condiment you could never hope to find. A taste almost as satisfying as humani sanguinis. Tragically lost on the tail end of Rome's glory days. Yet another victim of the fucking Christians and their campaign to ruin all that was good about the empire... But I digress.
Ever since the empire crumbled, I have been unable to find a single soul - in this world or any other in world I could reach - capable of making a batch of garum the way I so fondly remember it. And believe me, I tried. I scoured the globe from pole to pole. I broke through to the worlds of ghost, fae, and demon. I even laid siege to the Pearly Gates! But no matter what I tried, no matter where I went, no matter who I bargained with, never could I find the prize I sought. Eventually, my perseverance fell to bitter despair and the belief that never again would I know the taste of garum... But then I met Aliyah Schilling.
I was wandering the city as I sometimes do, when a familiar scent met my nose. The scent of fermenting garum. The good kind. Not that piscis crustulum all my searches inevitably turned up. I followed the scent. A few blocks and a hopped fence later and I'm standing in someone's back garden gazing down at a barrel filled to the brim with glorious garum. The scent of a properly prepared barrel of garum ready to be tapped, a scent I had thought lost to me for centuries, really took me back. I was so entranced by the sight, I didn't notice the presence of the homeowner until I heard her chanting a quick wisdom verse.
The homeowner, a wizard by the name of Aliyah Schilling invited me in for a little chat over a cup of a wonderful Ease of Mind blend. I introduce myself and explain how I came to be in her garden, and she takes it well enough. Not surprising given her already vast experience in matters of the supernatural variety. By the end of our chat, I walk away with my first barrel of garum in a few centuries shy of two millennia for a reasonable sum and a promise to keep my fangs out of Schilling necks.
Aliyah thinks I owe her a debt because she's keeping me safe from the those of the Thousand Churches who'd put a stake through my heart or from spellslingers who'd have my teeth for trinkets. Let them come. My gladius has hewn down their type before, and it will do so again. No, what I owe her for is the ambrosia she has returned to me. Now if only she'd accept my offers of immortality, or at the very least get herself a man. I've lost garum once. I can't stand the thought of losing it again.
Humani sanguinis, human blood. As a vampire, I have a taste for it and it's healthy for me to have myself a helping of it every now and then while I'm awake. Thankfully, a surprising number of people in Corvus Bay are into the idea of having vampires feed on them. You'd think I'd have no problem with that kind of quantity, but in truth my problems lie with quality. Just like how humans have a wide variety of foods, vampires have a wide variety of bloods.
Much like with humans and food, vampires prefer certain types of blood over others. They also prefer the aforementioned blood to not make them ill. That's why, like humans, an organization to grade and regulate blood has been set up. Once the blood has been confirmed to be drinkable, the owner of that blood is given the locations of secret nightclubs where can have themselves a good time while they wait to be selected as a drink by one of the club's vampire patrons.
Funnily enough, this whole process wasn't set up by a vampire. Rather, it was created by a pack of werewolves currently led by Lucas Ryder. Although he's a werewolf, Ryder has all the savvy of the very vampires he caters to. Once he took over his pack, the guy actually managed to get a pretty stable web going. It ain't as stable as a vampire's, but it's stable enough that I owe him two favors for coming to his clubs.
Someone relies on you for their fix. They owe you a Debt.
Anders Giroux, a young werewolf defending his patch of the city just like any other. And much like some of the more pessimistic lycanthropes, he's looking for a way out of the wolf life, or at the very least a way to control it so that he doesn't hurt anyone he cares about whilst the light of the moon brings out the beast, because apparently he's one of the unlucky lupi who can neither fight their change nor control themselves once the moon is out.
Anders came to me hoping for easy solutions, but sadly I had none to give. There were no easy solutions for his type of lycanthropy. The beast within him was simply to willful too bow to the normal methods of control. But that didn't mean he was beyond help. Just because there were no easy solutions, didn't mean there were no hard ones either. Even unruly wolves could be made compliant with enough effort.
So we came to an agreement. I would help him out with his control issues in any way I was able to do so and in return I could rely on him for help at a later date. Although after the corner store incident, I think I'll give his competence a little time to improve before I turn him loose on any of my problems.
Someone bears responsibility for you becoming a vampire. They owe you a Debt.
117 AD, the height of the Roman Empire. The year I was born anew. The year I became a vampire. In the dark of the night, I and thirteen of my friends undertook a ritual that year to attain immortalitatis. Seven of us died that night. Myself and the six other friends of mine who survived all did so as vampires.
To my knowledge, they're all alive and out there somewhere. It's hard for me to keep track of them. Especially when I spend decades at a time sleeping while they're up an about in the world. I've heard from all of them in the time since I woke up, but they're all scattered across the world, too far away for constant contact... Except for one.
Livius Ennius Quintus, or Quincy as he's referred to in the modern day. The one who discovered the ritual in the first place. He arrived in Corvus Bay a few years before I woke up. Quincy was always an envious guy. He was never satisfied with what he had, always coveting what he didn't own. It only got worse when he became a vampire. After that he fixated on something he didn't have and began taking as much of it as he could. Wealth, fame, power, horses, the list was as varied as it was endless.
Now though, he envies Mortality. This particular brand of envy manifested as a belief that as a vampire he was a vile and twisted abomination. As a result, he has embarked on a mad quest for redemption for what he has become. Normally I would have no strong feelings one way or the other about what my old friends get up to. But in this case, since his quest involves him owing me one to make up for leading me into vampirism, I'm supportive of his actions. Power to him, I say.
Someone has reunited you with garum. You owe them a Debt.
Garum, the ketchup of the ancient world. A finer condiment you could never hope to find. A taste almost as satisfying as humani sanguinis. Tragically lost on the tail end of Rome's glory days. Yet another victim of the fucking Christians and their campaign to ruin all that was good about the empire... But I digress.
Ever since the empire crumbled, I have been unable to find a single soul - in this world or any other in world I could reach - capable of making a batch of garum the way I so fondly remember it. And believe me, I tried. I scoured the globe from pole to pole. I broke through to the worlds of ghost, fae, and demon. I even laid siege to the Pearly Gates! But no matter what I tried, no matter where I went, no matter who I bargained with, never could I find the prize I sought. Eventually, my perseverance fell to bitter despair and the belief that never again would I know the taste of garum... But then I met Aliyah Schilling.
I was wandering the city as I sometimes do, when a familiar scent met my nose. The scent of fermenting garum. The good kind. Not that piscis crustulum all my searches inevitably turned up. I followed the scent. A few blocks and a hopped fence later and I'm standing in someone's back garden gazing down at a barrel filled to the brim with glorious garum. The scent of a properly prepared barrel of garum ready to be tapped, a scent I had thought lost to me for centuries, really took me back. I was so entranced by the sight, I didn't notice the presence of the homeowner until I heard her chanting a quick wisdom verse.
The homeowner, a wizard by the name of Aliyah Schilling invited me in for a little chat over a cup of a wonderful Ease of Mind blend. I introduce myself and explain how I came to be in her garden, and she takes it well enough. Not surprising given her already vast experience in matters of the supernatural variety. By the end of our chat, I walk away with my first barrel of garum in a few centuries shy of two millennia for a reasonable sum and a promise to keep my fangs out of Schilling necks.
Aliyah thinks I owe her a debt because she's keeping me safe from the those of the Thousand Churches who'd put a stake through my heart or from spellslingers who'd have my teeth for trinkets. Let them come. My gladius has hewn down their type before, and it will do so again. No, what I owe her for is the ambrosia she has returned to me. Now if only she'd accept my offers of immortality, or at the very least get herself a man. I've lost garum once. I can't stand the thought of losing it again.
