[CHAR] From the shadows [Based off Vampire the Masquerade] not accepting anymore players!

[TheDookieNut]

“"They gorged on the right, but were hungry, and they devoured on the left, but were not satisfied; they devoured the flesh of their own Kindred...”

Alexander Pascal

29 (44)
Toreador (Antitribu)
Celerity (2), Presence (1)



Alexander Pascal, formerly Nicholas Martin, had been part of the 'Free Love' movement when it had risen. He'd taken part in his fair share of drugs, as was the way of life. It was easy to say he hadn't ever expected the Embrace when it arrived. She had been beautiful. Beyond anything he'd seen before.
The night of his Embrace had started as a simple party, a cocktail of drugs and alcohol had clouded everyone's vision. In between the crowd of lucid bodies had been Her. Nicholas spotted her eyes first, liquid and hungry. She smiled and began to glide, stepping between people with indifference. She stopped before him and pressed cold lips against his. Nicholas didn't notice, his mind was already foggy, trance-like. Together they danced, ignored by the rest of the world around them. She kissed and danced before tracing the curve between his shoulder and neck.
Nicholas didn't really react to the pain, his mind still clutched whatever hallucinogen he had been taking that night; however as time went on, his fingers grew numb, his toes tingled and the world began to spin more so than it already was. He focused on the music, expecting this all to be a bad 'trip'. He could feel the bass thundering through his own chest and vibrating through the women in front of him, who at this point he was grateful was still holding him. His legs felt weak and the faintest sense of mortality crept into his mind. The women seemed to kiss her wrist, and in his state, he hadn't understood why. She pressed her lips against his again, her tongue slipping into his mouth as before. Yet this time it felt good, well better than before. Whatever substance she had given him seemed to cause some sort of ripple through his whole body. Despite the lack of strength he seemed to have, Nicholas, pulled her close and took whatever she was giving him as if it had been the single best drug he'd ever taken. The world span even more now but Nicholas couldn't stop. Soon he felt a strange feeling brewing in his stomach, a sort of madness, a hunger he couldn't quite understand.

Nicholas felt confused, and alone for a moment. He opened his eyes and looked about the crowd of people before turning his attention back to the women before him. Her piercing blue eyes haunted him and Nicholas couldn't comprehend his anger towards her. Yet his impulses kicked in and he lurched forwards, taking in the woman's shoulder as she had done to him. He bit hard, only taking in his newly found innate urges. He needed whatever it was she'd given him before. In a desperate and sudden struggle, he got exactly what he was hunting for. It was a downward spiral from there, easily one that would control his very life for the years to come. He didn't give the women her Final Death, but he saw very little of her when she finally decided she was done with him.

Nicholas performed the same act on another Kindred later in his new life, to the point of their Final Death; something he considered the highlight so far. He performed it twice more before leaving the coast and heading inland with an entirely new name as despite the pleasure, the acts he's performed were criminal in his world. To indulge in his mostly-illegal addiction, Alex has embraced a large number of new kindred, although all have been with the sole purpose of consuming himself. He became aware of what he appeared to Auspex users some decades ago, and with such news, he chose to drift, avoiding the Camarilla primarily out of fear until settling within the wider Sabbatt community of XXXXX.

[Nemmie]

Erinion Dva
25
Malkavian (dominate)
auspex (1), obfuscate (1), dominate (1)

Being born as a fourth child into a high class family left Erinion barely anything to wish for; new toys, clothes or gifts of all shapes and sizes were a daily occurrence for her. Being home-schooled her days were filled with lessons from highly appraised private teachers or kids her parents brought her to play with and although it seemed like a life one could only dream about, Erinion often found herself wishing otherwise. Her family’s ignorance usually made Eri sneak about, eavesdrop on her siblings and eventually cut her lessons; trips that earned her days of solitude and more often than not harsh words or beating from the hand of her father.

Once enrolled into college Erinion gave her best to fit in, but the years spend alone and the need to overachieve once again left her with barely any to no friends in her life – the vexing need to belong eventually grew into something more. Not thinking twice about it, Erinion reached back into the days of her youth and brought back an array of imaginary people, voices that kept her company.

The Embrace came suddenly. A late night stroll through the campus. A man. A man she thought she knew. A man she would swear was only in her imagination. The words he spoke were exactly what she wanted to hear - luring her further away from the light and ever slowly so closer to his open arms. And even though there was something in her mind telling her to turn away, to walk away that instance, Erinion knew he would never let that happen. She didn’t want to either. Even as his arms gently closed around her and she felt the cold skin rubbing against hers, it didn’t really matter – after all, couldn’t she indulge herself just this one thing? Words, so sweet, whispered, held her in place even after his sweet smile turned into something much more wicked.

The Waking was difficult. Showing her the ropes on how to feed Erinion’s sire left as abruptly as he appeared. Beside the voices she was able to hear to much more clearly now, she was left with but a memory of an amused smile of her sire – like he just made the prank of his life.

~

Erinion is a reserved individual who prefers to keep to herself. Spending most of her time tapping into the Cobweb and listening to erratic messages sometimes leaves her daydreaming for days. Instances like that usually create the need to be overly active – the frenzy often leading to hours spent chasing her hallucinations around the town, maniacal pursuit of finding her maker, or short and unsuccessful tries to make friends with humans that always end up in one or two drained bodies hidden away. Driven only by her thirst and emotions, Erinion’s behavior mostly changes depending on how thirsty or bored she is. A short gift of sire and his sudden departure left her with a lot of unanswered questions and the overwhelming urge to feel accepted – despite that, Erinion often shies away from any contact with her kind, displaying not only distrust but hatred towards the ones she perceives as individuals closely bound with their clan.

Derangements: hallucinations

Personal Goals: Achieve greater power over the Malkavian network

View on humans: Erinion sees humans as food. Food that provides entertainment as she sometimes tends to play with them, but nothing more. She couldn't care less about their state of affairs and the role of vampires in human society.

[Mokyute]

Margarita da Morto
206
Nosferatu
Animalism I, Obfuscate II


Margarita was a woman of beauty, before the Kiss and subsequent deterioration of her humanity. Patches of flaking and scabbed skin make wretched patterns on her body, and matted hair slicked back and tied in an attempt to control a mane of undeath support her little in social matters. Her teeth have mostly fallen out, save for a few incredibly pointed, yellowed fangs. Her smokey orbs betray no color any longer, as well as being disgustingly sunken into her skull. Her nose is nothing of the sort any longer: flattened against her head, all of it's cartilage having rotted away after the Kiss. Her bones are harshly outlined against her taught skin, having little fat or muscle to stretch over. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Nosferatu, however.

---

Sometime in the early 1800s, Margarita Castro was born into a family of money-hungry, socially affluent aristocrats. Having an easy, pampered upbringing, she found her niche in the arts quickly in her youth. Margarita took to the stage with a fiery passion, and was loved by the critics for her vocal technique and stage presence. After a decade of work, she finally made it big: her debut role of Lady Macbeth in Sicily. After closing their final show, she made the incorrect choice of joining her cast members for drinks at a local bar. One cup lead to another, and eventually she found herself utilizing the nearest alley to relieve herself (the bathrooms were full, or so she says). A skitter and sliding from around the corner lead to the biggest event of her life, and mortality. Leathery, smelly hands groped her face and body, silencing her whilst simultaneously dragging her wherever this unseen man wished her. Thinking she was about to be raped, Margarita kicked and punched wildly at the man's genitals and face, respectively. This lead to a swift blow to the shoulder, paralyzing her from the man's inhuman strength. She began to lose conciousness from fear and stress, eyes dimming either from the loss of light or fainting as she was slinked into the dank, dark sewer below. Little does she remember of the anteceding events, although an incredibly pleasurable plateau, followed by immeasurable pain is burnt into her memories.

When she regained complete conciousness, she found herself lying in what can only be described as an abhorrent shrine. Sullied sheets she laid upon, cascading curtains fell around the stained bed, and sweet smelling candles, hundreds of them, lined the vista's walls. A man, his back turned to her, crouched in a corner near the water's edge. Muffled slurping and crunching echoed off the sewer chamber's walls, which she quickly attributed to him. He turned to her after a few moments of her eyes on the back of his bald, scabbed head, followed by a guttural voice instructing her of what had just transpired. Suddenly, pangs of intense hunger washed over her and she realized just how empty her stomach was. Her sire barked at her to eat, and shoved the rat he was previously chomping on into her face. It was here that Margarita noticed her body had become languid and malformed. Long after this, and after all the shocks of early vampirehood had been experienced by her, she was guided carefully by her new sire to document secrets and information from the Sicilian aristocrats using her fame.

Breaching the 1900s, Margarita adopted the surname 'da Morto' as a grim pun to her mortality. Fleeing to the Americas by stowing on an immigrant ship out of Italy, and keeping said ship quite clean of rats during her voyage, she sought new life away from the cutthroat aristocracy of Sicily. Promises of opportunities for her to puppet some mortals into creating wonderful theatre drew her to New York, where she had minor success but eventually broke the Masquerade when her ghoul released secrets relevant to vampirism. Luckily, the War of 1812 weakened the Camarilla's hold on the East coast. This, combined with her Nosferatic tendencies, allowed her to evade serious punishment. However, the same is not to be said for the now-dead ghoul she left behind in New York. Seeking new horizons in the nearby sister-city named, aptly, Sattelite City, Margarita abandoned her pursuits, temporarily, of dipping her hands into the happenings of mortals. Instead, she focuses on finding power for herself to, perhaps one day, return to her primary objective of creating an integrated vampire-mortal theatre society. After all, wouldn't you save a lot of money on makeup if your monsters already looked terrifying?

---

A calculated and reserved being, Margarita da Morto is the typical noble-born woman. Keeping to the sewers, like her brothers and sisters in vampiric gift, her words and actions are always subtle yet pointed. Soft-spoken in conversation, Margarita finds herself obtaining much good information with her intelligent and careful direction of dialogue. Utilizing what little femininity she has left, the woman does her best not to offend other clans and Kindred by dressing well and keeping the pungent smells of her home where they belong.

---

Her personal goal is to reintegrate herself into society, through manipulation or otherwise. She views humans as little more than annoyance, as well as subjects for her artistic visions.

[Saarebas]

"The surface is a mere allusion, the true marvel is what lingers underneath."

Name
"Dawn. A true beauty to some, but a merciless death to others."

Gender
"I am beyond the constraints of such titles."

Age
Appears to be in very early twenties

Appearance
To describe Dawn's appearance is a rather tricky task as they constantly alter it in some way or another. Their most constant, or rather favored, appearance is that of a slenderly built individual with shockingly pale skin. Their hair is raven black and long, save for the left side where it is shaved close to the skin. Their eyes are usually a deep crimson red with the whites of their eyes being pitch black. They have a series of tattoos that cover their body, the most prominent of which is that of their clan symbol that is located over their heart. Their attire is what one would expect from today's youth, tight fitting pants, sleeveless tops, and countless piercings along with scarves and a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Depending on their mood Dawn is known to alter their body to loose their gender ambiguous appearance, adoupting either more masculine of feminine attributes.

Clan
Tzimisce
"Those true monsters that stalk the nightmares of Kind and Kindred alike."

Disciplines
Vicissitude
2

Koldunic Sorcery
1

Animalism
0

Auspex
0

Backstory
"I find the more I tell this story the ever more tedious it grows. I mean honestly why is it in these nights full of such wondrous beauty and achievement the only thing ever spoken of is the past? It is painfully absurd that so many put so much stock into it. What we used to be doesn't matter, why should it? The miserable kine that I transcended from wasn't worthy enough to lick the scum off of my shoe little alone be bothered talking about. It was such a sniveling insignificant creature, the thought still leaves the taste of bile in my mouth. The insect believed it was truly happy living its pathetic life, living in squalor in the slums of the city barely surviving by making money as a tattoo 'artist', and I use that term as loosely as possible. It is nauseating just to think about it, but it is to my fortune that this all changed with her. She was so beautiful, so refined, so... perfect. She, by some miracle, saw the sliver of potential that was in that horrid human and took such a great pity on it. She embraced that scum and gave birth to a being so much greater, me. Where that wretched kine was the dull, flavorless night I am the Dawn of a better day. I have spent years upon years under the tutelage of my sire honing my talents in the art of sculpting flesh and bone, Vicissitude. I now yearn to but my teachings to the test in this city, to make it truly beautiful."

Personality
Dawn on the surface is a sensual individual, almost on par of that of a Toreador. They have a fascination with the body, breaking what would normally consider personal space boundaries with little thought. They have an appreciation for art in all forms, be it music, painting, and especially body modification. But Dawn's true nature is much more sinister. They truly enjoy their undead state, they revel in their power, and they love manipulating both kine and kindred alike, both mentally and physically.

Derangements
Sadist

Personal Goals
To create the next great monster that will go down in legend

View on humans
Kine are merely blank canvases that await an artist, like myself, to turn them into something grand.

Extras
Dawn prefers to be referred to as a it or they rather than him or her.

[Xhala]

Nessa Lycoris

19
Brujah
Celerity(1), Potence(2)



“My life? You . . . you really want to know? Oh, ah . . .” She pulls her gun from the small of her back and balances it on her knee. “Ok, now I feel safe. Now I can talk: It wasn't easy, you know. Dad had the nasty habit of drinking too much and using Mom as a punching bag. I didn't realize what was going on until I was five. That was when they sent me to the neighbours to learn writing and reading so I'd could find work someday. The nice lady asked me if Mom was alright. That's what got everything started.”
She looks down at her gun, tilting her head to one side. “It wasn't that uncommon. What happened at home wasn't uncommon where we lived. As I grew older I grew furious and frustrated. I couldn't protect her – but someone would have to, right? One night I came home from work – I used to deliver newspapers amongst other things – and he was at it again. So I got in-between them, punched the bastard. Mom was screaming, trying to pull me back . . . and Dad just didn't care who he hurt. That was the moment my Mom changed. She started to get all secretive about some things. Clothes would disappear and money.” She smiles and looks up. “In the night she took me away, to a safe house. I have no idea how she managed to find it or establish contact, but she took me there. For the first time we always had a warm meal, a quiet evening , I had a great education and Krav Maga lessons for self defence. I rocked at that, I'll tell ya! We stayed there a few years until I grew too old to stay. When we moved back into that unforgiving area I was 16 and had seen how people should be treated. The violence tore me apart.”
The gun is raised, pointed at the floor and held in both hands. “Whenever I saw children or women get hurt I'd interfere. I couldn't stand it! And I knew how to defend myself! They didn't. Yeah, sure, one or two bastards died in the process. But who cares? It was necessary! At least their children can sort of grow up in peace. Yes, there's the gangs and drugs and all that lot – but if you ask me there doesn't have to be! What's wrong with dreaming of a better world and actively fighting to reach it?” She smiles, replacing her gun at the small of her back and rises. “But that's enough of me. I need to be some place.” With a wink she disappears through the door.

**********

Had she known it would end like this . . . Yeah, ok, she would have gone anyway! Lying in the pool of her own blood she looked about. The man lay a few feet away, not moving, not breathing, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. It was dark in the tiny apartment. The bastard had had a gun! With a moan she dragged herself to a wall. She was not going to die like that rat! She was going to die upright, at least sitting! It was hard and took some time. Even as the cold crept through her body she managed to sit up against the wall, the world slowly fading into a blur.
Flash lights at the door. Then it was burst open. Police? Yeah, seemed like it. A man knelt before her, feeling her pulse. “She's dead!” Nessa was to tired to protest. It was as she felt something pierce her neck that she managed to moan. Then something warm was offered to her to drink. She just had to swallow . . . but what was it? The taste was . . . intoxicating. They took her with them. So they weren't the police. The man carrying her seemed so compassionate! Nessa could have fallen in love right that moment. But she was dying.
It was the night of her embrace.

**********

Nessa is a friendly person why has her ideals and fights vigorously
to achieve them – no matter the cost. The greater good is what she's aiming for. A world of peace for children to grow up without having to fear their fathers. She's a fighter and very compassionate when it comes to children and woman. Nesse will do anything for her cause and recruits people who believe in it.
She has an open mind and is honest, to the decree that it might be too honest in the wrong moments. She also has a short temper when it comes to her ideals. Have a different opinion, but don't make it so clear to her that you don't accept hers. She can be vicious!

Personal Goals
Protect those who need protection, regardless if they are human, animal or belong to the cursed.

View on humans
“What I think about humans? Oh, that's simple! You were one too, weren't you? Why should we treat them as lesser race? You dare harm one and I'll be sure finish you in the blink of an eye. You feel me?”

[Treepuncher121]

Name:Cameron

Gender: Girl

Age:18

Appearance: Appearance

Clan: Caitiff

Disciplines: Celerity (3)

BackStory: Cameron’s last name was lost long ago around the 1800’s. She was the last of her family when a trader rolled into town. Everybody was spectacle of the trader, except Cameron. Every night she would sneak out and find the trader. Talking about various things and looking at different items he had. Then one evening she didn’t sneak out, instead he came to her. First she felt the warmth of his lips on her neck. Then in an instance everything went cold. She felt death. Then warmth again, new life sprang into her body. Suddenly she felt something new. A new addiction. She wanted blood. She could feel it. Cameron looked up to find her savior, but he was already gone. A wisp in the night. That night Cameron snuck into her parents room draining them of their life, then leaving to start a new one.

Personality: Due to the fact that she killed her family she went insane after realizing what had happened. Some days she is happy, some sad, some disconnected. Bipolar disorder was one thing that set in, along with hearing voices. These voices tell her who to kill and how. She listens to them.

Derangement(s): Bipolar, schizophrenia

Personal Goals: Cameron doesn’t really have any personal goals other than to protect the prince at all costs. She met the prince a while back when he saved her life from some hunters. She was new to the vampire society then and didn’t know what to do. From then on they became partners, where she helped him rise to power.

Views on Humans: Cameron doesn’t really have a view. The voices are always telling her mixed things. Such as: “Humans are fools”, “They are wise, listen to them”, and “They’re just meat! Eat them! Eat them all!”. Her opinions change rapidly.