Vampire the Masquerade RP (OOC, Closed)

[Morlodania]

Welcome to the World of Darkness, Childe, where all the myths and legends you've heard are real. Vampires, Werewolves, Ghosts, Wizards, Demons, Angels, all of them, and many more, very, very real, and very capable of killing you. Good thing is, you're a Vampire, a child of Cain, the brother of Abel. Yes, I'm serious, way back in the beginning, after Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden of Eden, they had Cain and Abel, brothers. Cain killed Abel, and God cursed him with vampirism. He was the first. He created three more, the second generation. Between those three, they created thirteen more, the thirteen Antediluvians, creators of the clans. After them, there have been many more generations, as far as the fifteenth, which is so far distant from Cain, they cannot sire. You're a Camarilla, those Vampires that think that Humanity, the Kine, would be better off not knowing the World of Darkness even existed. Between us, there are seven Clans. The Malkavians, those who are cursed, and blessed, with madness, able to see the world in a way no one else can. The Nosferatu, ugly, misshapen sewer dwellers with a kindred connection to all kinds of animals. The Brujah, rebels to the bone, disorganized, yet incredibly powerful in their own right. The Gangrel, wanderers, shapeshifters, and closer to animal kind then even the Nosferatu. The Toreador, artists, fashionable, picked from the highest of the high of the society of the Kine. The Tremere, the youngest clan, born of magic, capable of manipulating blood as a weapon, as no other clan can. The Ventrue, leaders of the Camarilla, capable of manipulating others beyond compare. You're a member of one of these, the same clan as your Sire. Yeah, I know what clan you belong to, and you probably do at this point, too. If you don't, you're Brujah, simple as that.

Anyway, you're a pretty young Vampire, newly turned, somewhere between the tenth and twelfth generations. You're still pretty powerful, but you're nothing compared to the older Vampires of the earlier generations. You're still a vampire, though. You have to drink blood, you burn in daylight, holy water, crosses, those kinds of things burn. Fire hurts a whole fuckton, stay out of it. Physical damage is weak, though. You can take a massive beating, what would kill a mortal several times over, and you'd just have to rest for a while before walking it right off. Bullets, swords, that kind of thing? Weak sauce. Werewolves, fire, the claws and teeth of another vampire? Those hurt, and will easily kill you. Stay away from them, if you can.

Onto the point of this message, I'm calling you, and several other young bloods, to London. Your sires have already spoken with me, and yes, they all agreed. I expect, on the twelfth of this month, for every one of you to be at the return address for this letter. If you're not, someone's coming to get you, forcibly. Also with this letter should be the equivalent of 10,000 Euro in your nation's currency for you to get here and grab... Whatever the hell you want to have with you when you get here. Make sure you're well fed before you arrive, because otherwise, you're sure to die.

Signed,
Jorgen Rodgers, Prince of London

That's the letter every player-character will receive before the RP begins.

Now, to the rules.
1. Don't godmod. Don't do something so insanely powerful it breaks the story. Yes, you're stronger than a human. No, you cannot move that mountain.
2. Don't metagame. You're not 10,000 years old, you don't have infinite resources. You can't just summon an army from thin air.
3. Posts MUST BE at least three sentences long, good ones. And they must be at least two lines long. Don't make a one-liner.
4. I AM THE STORYTELLER. My word is law. I am god. My co-ops are my archangels. Their word is law as well, unless I override it.
5. I AM THE STORYTELLER. I lead the story. Yes, you can introduce sub-plots. No, you cannot hijack my whole story. If you do, the universe (me) will get very angry at you.
6. Do not, for any character, post more than three times within a 24 hour period. This is regulatory to make sure that no player is left behind, as I have seen happen in too many RPs.

IC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=290426

Yes, you have 10,000 Euro, but don't spend it all in one place. You need to spend a lot of it on travel, for one. For two, you're going to need money in the story, so don't just burn it all on character creation.

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b] 
[b]Age (Total and since being Embraced, no older than 100 TOTAL):[/b] 
[b]Clan (One only):[/b] 
[b]Appearance (Pic and description if possible):[/b] 
[b]Equipment (Weapons, charms, anything that they'll have):[/b] 
[b]Skills (Anything you can do above the norm):[/b] 
[b]Biography (Be descriptive, please.):[/b] 


In the following posts, you'll see a bit more about the individual clans and Camarilla society as a whole. I can't fit it all in one post.
If you want to look up something specific, go here: http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Vampire:_the_Masquerade

[Morlodania]

Overview of Vampirism
Vampires are created through the Embrace; during the Embrace, a vampire drains a candidate of all their blood and replaces it with a small amount (generally a single drop) of their own. This causes the corpse to rise as a (very hungry) vampire, usually instantly (though those of the highest generations may appear to lie dead for some time before they awaken). The vampire who initiates the Embrace is the Sire; the new vampire is the Sire's Childe.

When a vampire is Embraced, their internal organs wither away, and almost all their body fluids are replaced by blood. The only exception being the stomach, which pulses with the blood that the vampire consumes. Vampires use blood (also called Vitae) for a variety of purposes; blood replaces most bodily fluids, so vampires will cry blood and sweat blood under certain circumstances. Blood is also used to get up and move; every night, vampires expend a certain amount of blood to rise. In addition, vampires can use blood to enhance their physical attributes and use supernatural powers called Disciplines. Blood is used to Embrace, as noted above, and also to create Ghouls. Finally, vampires can use blood to heal damage.

Blood is generally replaced by sucking it out of humans. While vampires can feed on animals, they do not enjoy the taste of it and older vampires will acquire no sustenance from it. The process of taking blood is euphemistically called the Kiss or feeding. Vampires do not have to completely drain a victim, although frenzying vampires are likely to do so. Vampires can hide the puncture marks of feeding by licking the wounds, making the process fairly subtle.

The Feeding process is highly pleasurable (arguably the only pleasure) for vampires, and is also extremely pleasurable for victims. Vessels who are drained regularly can become addicted to the Kiss.

Vampires change considerably after the Embrace. Physically, they are incapable of eating food, vomiting it up almost instantly, they have no need or interest in sex as the need to feed replaces all physical and emotional urges, although they can imitate the physical reactions of sex if needed. As a result of these processes, the vampire is paler and generally thinner than they were before the Embrace. Certain clans have more extreme physical changes, such as the Nosferatu.

Once Embraced, vampires are locked into a form of stasis. Apart from wounds (healed with blood), vampires are restored to their condition at the time of Embrace every time they rise up for the night. This physical condition eventually extends to their mindsets - old vampires find it very hard to learn new things.

In addition to the physical changes, vampires experience extreme intellectual and emotional changes. The vampire is now a predator, and has a raging id called the Beast. The Beast reacts to a variety of stimuli, notably hunger, anger and fear. The Beast continuously assaults the character, and if the Beast's demands exceed the character's own capacity to control it, will react in a Frenzy or Rötschreck. Vampires can permanently lose control to the Beast, entering Wassail, a state of permanent Frenzy. In this condition, all humanity is lost and the vampire becomes a mindless killing machine.

Vampires from every bloodline have superhuman attributes but in certain clans one of each may be superior to other clans or even have magic such as the clan Tremere.

Vampires are highly vulnerable to a some physical threats, most importantly sunlight and fire. Vampires burn easily, and will burn up almost instantly in sunlight. However, outside of these, vampires are very hard to kill - bullets do not cause much damage, and those who possess the Disciplines of Celerity and Fortitude are extremely hard to hit, let alone damage in combat.

When severely wounded, vampires can pass into a deathlike stasis called Torpor, which allows them to heal more extreme damage. Torpor can last for centuries depending on the circumstances, and as a vampire gets older, Torpor becomes a more attractive option due to social and personal issues often suffered by vampires of significant age or those who cannot cope with the changes in society. Some vampires have been in Torpor for millennia, such as the Antediluvians.

Every vampire has a Generation, numbered from 1 (Caine) to 15 in the Canonical games. A vampire is always one generation higher than his Sire, thus farther removed from Caine. Generation has a variety of effects - mental powers do not work on vampires of lower generation, and the lower a generation the more potent a vampire can become. Vampires cannot lower their generation except through diablerie, a form of vampiric cannibalism in which the diablerist consumes the soul of his or her victim.

Vampire Society:
Nominally, every vampire is Embraced into a Clan, which is a line of vampires tracing their ancestry back to a common Antediluvian. Each Clan has specific strengths and weaknesses, as well as their own distinct history. A vampire without a Clan is Caitiff, generally a second-class citizen in vampiric society.

Vampires belong to one of two major Sects: The Camarilla and The Sabbat. The Camarilla consists of those clans who are dedicated to preserving the Masquerade and (generally) their Humanity. The Sabbat are dedicated to the coming Gehenna and the superiority of the vampire species over humanity. It should be noted that the distinction is not between Good Vampires and Bad Vampires as much as between Bad Vampires and Worse Vampires (which is which depends largely on who you ask). The Camarilla and Sabbat are violent enemies.

In addition to these two Sects, several lesser divisions exist. Vampires who reject both Sects in favor of more indepedence are grouped into a loose community called Anarch. Several Clans are loyal primarily to their Clans, and are independent of the major Sects. In addition, there is a group of mysterious elder vampires, the Inconnu, who eschew all politics in favor of their own projects.

The Clans:
Brujah: Originally warrior-philosophers, the Brujah are now petty rebels, roughnecks and political activists. The Brujah are powerful combatants and charismatic speakers, but are more prone to succumbing to frenzy.

Gangrel: The Gangrel are nomadic vampires and the only ones who regularly travel outside of cities. The Gangrel are also shape-shifters with the Discipline of Protean, which has left them with a tendency to acquire animal features as they frenzy.

Malkavian: The Malkavians are a clan of mentally-ill vampires afflicted with a strange madness which varies between individuals. This doesn't mean that they aren't also insightful and highly intelligent, but they are controlled by madness from the moment of their Embrace, if not before.

Nosferatu: Nosferatu are hideously deformed by their Embrace, every Nosferatu is horrifyingly ugly. Eschewing other Vampires, they live in sewers and generally keep to themselves. Nosferatu are information brokers par excellence.

Toreador: The Toreador are obsessed with art and beauty, and are the clan that spends the most time around humanity. Toreador tend to get lost in art, becoming enraptured by beautiful things.

Tremere: The Tremere are a Hermetic order (originally from Ars Magica) who turned themselves into vampires to preserve their magic. It didn't quite work out as planned. Since the 11th century, the Tremere have risen from outcasts to one of the pillars of Camarilla society. Tremere are the most powerful practitioners of the Discipline of Thaumaturgy, but are also tightly bound to their highly organized and incredibly paranoid clan.

Ventrue: The Clan Of Kings. The Ventrue are the leaders of the Camarilla and are businessmen, aristocrats, monarchs, captains of industry, crime leaders and any other profession where control, social significance and power are required. They are the clan from whom the majority of Princes come. Ventrue are choosy who they Embrace and who they feed from: every Ventrue feeds from a specific type of Vessel, and only from that type of Vessel.

The Masquerade
The Masquerade is technically outlined in the Traditions, however until the 15th century this was commonly interpreted as not informing mortals of the niceties of vampiric society, how common vampires were or generally making too big a noise. The Tradition was openly flouted by several clans (notably the Tzimisce), while the vampires in more civilized society would often adhere to it more tightly.

All of this changed with the Inquisition, following the Anarch Revolt, when the true number of vampires became apparent and Rome started to have at the undead igne ferroque, the nascent Camarilla was primarily organized around promulgating and strongly enforcing a Masquerade. History holds that Rafael de Corazon's famous speech in 1450 made enforcing the Masquerade the Camarilla's primary policy.

The basics of the Masquerade are enforced through self-policing and harsh penalties. When a breach (colloquially, an "oops") occurs, the methods of repairing may vary, but somebody is going to be punished — and while it would be nice for that somebody to be whoever caused the breach in the first place, Princes are known to prefer an early morning dusting over a long thorough search.

Generally, a breach consists of any evidence of vampiric powers: feeding on blood, obvious use of Disciplines, regeneration in plain sight and the like. Certain things (such as ghouls) are considered potential breaches all the time — although in this case, its assumed that the domitor will take necessary steps.

Camarilla vampires are taught to blend in and to cultivate their Humanity in order to make imitating living people easier. However, when something severe happens, the Camarilla usually calls on the Ventrue, who have made Masquerade-patching something of a science. The Ventrue will apply whatever resources are necessary — cash, judicious use of Dominate, machine guns — to make the problem go away.

While the Sabbat does not itself have a Masquerade, it survives primarily through the Masquerade enforced by the Camarilla, and a similar "patch squad" managed by the Grimaldi ghoul family.

[Morlodania]

ACCEPTED APPLICATIONS:

Name: Jorgen Rodgers
Age: 700+
Clan: Malkavian
Appearance: Jorgen is 6 foot tall, with short dark brown hair and deep grey eyes. He has light, almost pale skin, and dresses in a fashion more suitable to a time around the 1600s.
Equipment: He's obscenely wealthy. He has whatever he wants or needs.
Skills: Malkavian 'insights', other skills one might see in someone so old, they could say they have seen the rise and fall of civilizations.
Biography: This is the most secret part about him. Even he doesn't know large portions of his own past, and with good reason. He's utterly insane, that's all you need to know.

Name: Stacy Firebloom
Age: Embraced at 19, total age 57
Clan: Malkavian
Appearance: Stacy is 5'8'' thin, yet shapely woman with lightly tanned skin and mid-back length red hair. She tends to wear nothing but long dresses.
Equipment: Stacy carries both a katana, which is sheathed attached to her right hip, as well as a revolver on her left hip. She also wears a gold necklace, with a small ruby in the center, that has great sentimental value to her.
Skills: Stacy specializes in Dementation and Obfuscate, while leaving Auspex to be desired in her skillset. She can manipulate shadows to become invisible, and can extend her insanity to groups of others, causing mass hallucinations on command if she so wishes.
Biography: Stacy is the only progeny that Jorgen has created in over 200 years. She had a simple life, living in London, and was actually a human servant to Jorgen starting around the time she was 17. She worked in his home, both as a maid, a cook, and simply a general worker around the house. Jorgen, however found that she was far too useful to simply let age away and die, so he eventually decided to put her through the Embrace. Since then, she has been Jorgen's right hand, following his wishes to the letter, and learning the ways of the Camarilla and of the clan of Malkav under him.

Name: Corby Corax
Age: 28 (Embraced at 25)
Clan: Gangrel
Appearance: Short black hair which refuses to stay down no matter what anyone does to it. Green/brown eyes. He is tall and lean. Definitely not a bodybuilder but neither is he weak for his size. He wears a black suit with a bow tie seemingly all the time which cover up his heavily tattooed frame.
Equipment:
A golden pocket watch from centuries long gone, a family heirloom.
A revolver which he keeps on him simply out of sentimentality.
Skills: Being a newly turned Gangrel, he can only turn into a raven for now. He has excellent eyesight and is exceedingly limber for his size thanks to his training as a boxer.
Possesses an odd knack for solving mental problems, similar to the bird he shifts into.
Biography: Corby was born in America, in a lovely house on a lovely suburban street where everyone got along just fine. Except Corby, he felt, disquieted by the endless peace and tranquility. He wished more than anything that something would break the boring routine of his childhood years. It happened day in, day out, wake up, eat breakfast, go to school, get home go to sleep. And then he got into a fight. At age 13 he got into his first fight, his father was less than impressed despite Corby being on the defense for the fight. Because he won the fight, he was labeled a bully and a jerk. Corby didn't care though, the excitement was exhilarating, and addictive. It wasn't long before Corby was spending time in a boxing ring every day, which was far better than the alternative of ending up in juvey. This way he was labeled as misguided and not a criminal. Funny how society worked. And so life went on. Corby took over from his boxing tutor and began to run the gym until 25 when he was Embraced. It changed his life entirely . . . As embracing generally would. His Sire taught him about the way of the Gangrel, wandering from city to city, learning to feed and leave with out causing national terror. He turned over a new leaf, his new, thinner body meant he no longer looked like a tough as nails boxer so he dressed fancy, black as usual but now it was a suit, not a tracksuit. He took quite well to his animal form, he had a knack for problem solving and finding openings, which had been his saving grace in boxing. As such he was well suited to his Raven body. The transformations came effortlessly after three-years of practice and he did not tire of soaring on pitch black, iridescent wings. Causing locals to point up and mutter about superstitions. Sometimes he even landed on someone's shoulder just to freak them out a bit.

Name: Josephine "Sophie" Marquis
Age: Eighty; sixty years since her Embrace.
Clan: Malkavian
Appearance: Here
Equipment: A pair of engraved push daggers, a Colt anaconda, and always a pack of Parliaments.
Skills: She is extremely well trained in Auspex, one of the three Disciplines generally attributed to the mad clan. To a lesser extent, she is also a student of Dementation, but at a cost of learning these two so well, she has largely forsaken Obfuscate to the point that it is near useless. As well, she also shares the insanity-inducing and -caused insights of the Malkavians, and is quite well inducted into the Malkavian Madness Network. She's a decent thief and street fighter, although the time spent dedicated to studying her disciplines leaves theses skills somewhat wanting.
Biography: Josephine Marquis lived a somewhat mediocre but eventful life in the years before her Embrace. She was a child of a French soldier, a veteran of World War One, and was born in 1934. Despite being only six at the time of the fall of France, she itched to participate in the resistance efforts, despite her widowed mother doing everything she could to halt that. Although it wouldn't be remarked upon until decades into her embrace, she as a child suffered from oppositional defiant disorder, and as a result of this did everything she could do resist any authority that people attempted to levy against her. This manifested itself in the form of several attempts at running away to join the Free French Forces, only to be found and returned. She started a resistance movement in her school, who "contributed" to the war effort by not doing homework en masse and stealing from the school supplies.

This behavior continued into her teens, post-war. She was always at the front of every protest movement against the government, from anti-colonialism to pro-communism. If the cause was subversive, she was there defending and advancing it, even if at times they contradicted. At the age of twenty, freshly dropped out of university and seeking to join a pro-communist militia, she was Embraced by a visiting American Malkavian, who had enticed her to join him in some anarchic fun. Unable to bear the strangeness of the Malkavian mind, she nearly broke under the pressure; she developed several new issues, specifically waking nightmares that haunt her vision and misophonia, or the hatred of sound.

She was whisked away by her Malkavian sire, who promised to help her alleviate the sounds that crushed her mind through training. And in that respect, he lied, for he took her to the bustling and loud city of New York, where he used her to play the great Jyhad against his fellow Kindred. But in another respect, his training did help; she learned to tolerate the sounds that surrounded her, even if they disgusted her to no end. No longer did she run in terror at the sound of the music that once brought joy to her soul; now, it merely made her uncomfortable, although she would still wretch and shudder whenever the noise grew too loud.

For a time, she broke away from her sire and joined the Anarch movement in Portland, where she studied further the Disciplines of her clan among the Malkavian Anarchs. It was there that she learned more of the Malkavian Madness Network, and through that she slowly became very understanding of just what it was to be a Malkavian. When she shared these insights with her fellow Anarch madmen, they only laughed, smiled, and winked, understanding every word before she even said it.

It was this realization that made her return to her sire in New York, far wiser than before, and also more compliant. She began to play the game the way it was meant to be played; uniting with her fellow Malkavians to toy with the world around her, the other clans and Kine barely even understanding the joke, let alone the reasons behind it. She learned the value of pretending to be more insane than one really was; she began speaking in riddles and rhymes, laughing with the other Kindred of her clan whenever another was confused by her words. Despite her insanity and youth, though, she was certainly a respected member of the New York Camarilla, even if she was only of the tenth generation.

It was very sudden, but entirely expected and prepared for, when she got the message from the London Prince to attend a gathering in that city. Her sire okayed her departure a week before the arrival of the letter, and she cleaned up any business she had left in New York even longer before that. Despite her insight, though, she had no idea why she was being called by Rodgers. Nothing had trickled down the Cobweb either, despite the Prince being a fellow Malkavian. Something important to the Masquerade and Camarilla itself, she assumed, must have been happening in London for such a large amount of childes to be summoned. Which, she assumed once more, meant that they were to be used as cannon fodder for the elders. A glorious prank, perhaps, but a dangerous one as well.

Regardless, she packed her few bags and set sail for London, all the while simultaneously fearing and appreciating what might happen upon her arrival, in between the images of sea monsters and the sound of the waves that haunted her nights.

Name: Vigil Elrech
Age (Total and since being Embraced, no older than 100 TOTAL): 23 total, 2 year since turned.
Clan (One only): Gangrel
Appearance (Pic and description if possible): Vigil is 6'1 with an above average muscular stature. He has dark brown hair and green eyes, although they change to blue when he shapeshifts. The right side of his face is badly scarred from fire burns and his have the remnants of flames licking them, reaching all the way to his shoulders. His transformation is an adult black cat.
Equipment (Weapons, charms, anything that they'll have): Black trench coat, Combat Knife, rune book(mostly for amusement), and a golden watch.
Skills (Anything you can do above the norm): Transform into a cat? His relation with the animal makes him remarkably quick, more so than other Vampires, and his jumping improved exponentially.
But he can't always land on his feet.
Biography (Be descriptive, please.): Vigil was born in Westphalia to a poor mother and father, but he never attempted to further himself. All days he had to himself were spent trying to catch wild animals, more so cats than anything. He had an unnatural like for cats, one time he even tried to sneak several of them in the house so they could sleep in a huge pile, but he was caught and severely switched. Of course he soon recovered and got back to grabbing up cats...he even tried cooking them food once on his own. He went into his fathers shed to get something to make the fire larger and spotted gasoline in the corner and, after taking it outside, leaned over the fire and turned his cheek to not hurt his eyes when the fire flared.

Rolling on the ground proved pointless for a good six minutes as his skin boiled, the flames licking him from his clothes as he is forced into a burning embrace of fire and pain. He finally manages to get the flames to die down, his parents not even bothering to come outside as he lays upon the ground crying out in agony. Moments later kittens and their mothers, walking towards to boy slowly, began licking his burns to repay him for his kindness. They saw him as one of them; he felt closer to them than his own parents. After heading inside to reveal his mistake he was switched by his father, smacked on the burned side of his face by his mother, and was called an idiot before being sent upstairs.

That night would be their last. The boy, after pulling his burnt skin away from the sheets they stuck to, went into the kitchen. Grabbing a dirty knife from the sink he crept into his parent room and, after covering their mouths one at a time, slit their throats. A group of voices in the background cheered him on, as they were the ones who set him to this task, so that he may 'be free' as they put it. As he left the boy sighed, the cats he had loved so dearly following him as they left his home. He was, for the first time in a long while, at peace.

They chased him through the streets. They chased him through the alleys, the passages, the winding stairs and the railroad tracks. The boy had lived so long with them, although he was no longer a boy at the age of 21, and now they suddenly turn on him. After becoming their human forms the animals he once loved hurt him; they made him bleed on his neck where they bit him. He covered the bite area and found himself stuck in a corner; they had him now. Men, women, and children who had in all this time never gone from kitten to an adult cat. He had never though about the age of a cat, as they told him that cats could live forever, and soon he would be able to as well. One of his favorites, the one who always looked after him,was a female cat about his age. She stepped forward from the crowd of about seven to try and coo Vigil; he would no listen. Sheseemed hurt by him running andcontinued to step forward, ignoring hispleas for her to step back. "It doesn't matter what you say anymore, Vigil. The deed is done."

Vigil was slowly calmed and, after a few minutes of warm embrace, he left with them to go with his family. At the age of 23, however, he left them for good.

Name: Alyah Eshe (Ah-lay-ah esh-ee)

Age (Total and since being Embraced, no older than 100 TOTAL): 22 (18 when embraced)

Clan (One only): Ventrue

Appearance (Pic and description if possible): A slender, almost delicate looking woman, stading about 5’6”, with shoulder length black hair. She usually wears clothing that is somewhat loose and easy to move in. Alyah has pale caramel colored skin, showing her half Egyptian heritage and giving her an exotic appearance. She has a more spritely body type, still displaying a bit of curves without becoming too large.

Equipment (Weapons, charms, anything that they'll have): Passport, small handgun, Egyptian bracelet, phone

Skills (Anything you can do above the norm):
She focuses her attention on the Ventrue's inherit domination abilities. She is quite young and is only able to plant suggestions within the heads of her victims and give simple one or two word commands that are hard to resist for simple humans. (See command and Mesmerize)

Biography (Be descriptive, please.): Alyah was born to an American mother and an Egyptian father who had uncovered an ancient Egyptian tomb and struck it rich. They moved to America for the more luxurious lifestyle and had a baby girl. Alyah was the only child of her parents and was raised in a house with maids and butlers to help her throughout her day. As she grew she learned that she enjoyed moving the servants about, like pawns in a game of chess, and it filled her with pride when they spoke respectfully to her, despite that she wasn’t even a third of their age. As she grew older her enjoyment for the activity grew and most servants both loved and feared her. If you pleased her she was known to reward them greatly; however a slight, real or imagined, was met with harsh punishment.
A few weeks after her birthday her father confronted her and said that there was one last gift he needed to give her. He presented her with a beautiful bracelet taken from the Egyptian tomb and gave it to her as a gift. Later that Evening a stranger appeared by her bedside and offered her a choice, join him willingly or as a slave. Alyah called for her parents but they wouldn’t responds and the man stepped into the light. The sight of him, with crimson stains around his mouth told the entire story of why her parents wouldn’t come. In a moment of desperation and anger she attacked the man and was subdued. The man kept her in her room for a month, gradually trying to explain what he was and why he wanted her to join him. His motives seemed somewhat pure and relatively simple and Alyah agreed to become a child of the night. She spent the past four years learning about the power of domination and how to manipulate others. As she learned she drifted between hate for the man that killed her parents and gratitude for her new life. However she has began feeling restless and needing a change of scenery. When a mysterious letter arrived she knew this was opportunity that had come knocking.

Name: Violante Balenciaga de Lizarduy
Age (Total and since being Embraced, no older than 100 TOTAL): Eighty two (50 since embrace. Embraced at 32)
Clan (One only): Lasombra (Lasombra Antitribu)
Appearance (Pic and description if possible): Violante
Equipment (Weapons, charms, anything that they'll have):
A heirloom rapier, A Main Gauche
A valuable pure silver necklace with an engraved ruby
Skills (Anything you can do above the norm): Thanks to the education given to her by her former Sire, Violante prioritized her mastery over the Obtenebration discipline, with Potence being given secondary, although neglectful, attention. She enjoys the psychological effect the use of her shadow skills have on people, and tends to overuse it, although she is extremely wary of showing her talents with other vampires nearby, as it revelas her procedence, usually frowned upon in the Camarilla. She doesn't even know how to use her Domination discipline. In life, she was a competitive fencer, so she has some skills with a blade, (augmented by the teachings of her late Sire). She is also an accomplished clothing designer, (this is a family trait. She is related to a famous basque fashion designer, and kept working with him for many years until his death), but most of her skills are related to complex political and courtly manouvers. She is no stranger to lying, or social manipulation.
Biography (Be descriptive, please.): Violante was born in Pamplona, Spain, in 1932, during troubling times in her motherland. Altough she was born into a wealthy, tradional family, she spent the main years of her infancy under the hardships of the Spanish Civil War, and had to suffer the shortages of food and goods that came after the end of the conflict. His father died in a battle, and her mother had to find work as a seamstress in a factory controlled by a wealthy man who came from the capital after the war. Eventually, her mother claimed the owner of the factory took her as a lover, and gave her money to satisfy her Mistress, although the truth was that the benefactor was a vampire that had taken her mother as part of his feeding herd.

He eventually kept playing with her mother until she became too old for his liking. He did stage an accident for her mother to dissappear and replaced her with Violante herself, by then 16 years old. Under his wing, Violante resumed her high level education, going to one of the prestigious opened universities of the Jesuit orders, and pursuing a succesful career as an athlete, lawyer, and artist. Not before long, she and her mother's former lover became a couple, and soon she had the revelation of why the man had not aged a day since they met for the first time. A powerful Lasombra renegade, Diego Ricardo Urrutia y Uzcátegui was an ancient vampire that had managed to survive the turbulent european history of the last two centuries, and had old friends and allies in a web of favours in both sides of the vampiric war. He had refused to take in the creation of the Sabbat, but remained neutral with contacts in both sides, being constantly wooed and seduced to take part either in favor of the Camarilla or the Sabbat. He kept Violante as his protegé as a ghoul for a pair of decades until he finally embraced her around the year 1964, when she had turned from a promising young lady into a full fledged talented woman.

First as her favored ghoul, and then as his Childe, Violante was in charge of keeping in place Urrutia's policies with the neighbouring cities, sometimes under Camarilla control, sometimes lost to the ravaging Sabbat packs. Meanwhile she served as ambassador and the main Harpy of Pamplona, she kept the streets of the ancient city free of conflict, maintaining her allies close and their enemies busy with fighting at each other. The conflict between the basque sabbat and the castilian old camarilla was resolved outside of the city's medieval walls.

The man that had survived centuries from assaults from his former clan mates and rival clans did not survive much, however. When Violante discovered that her Sire was already looking for a new replacement for his "favored lady" on a promising younger woman at the university that he secretly funded, and that Urrutia had plans to get rid of her and let the newcomer take her place at his side, she decided to betray her master. She let a new coming Sabbat pack to plan an ambush against her Sire, and gave them important data and resources for the attack to be succesful. She did not plan to join the uncouth Sabbat legionnaries, however, thinking of herself above those fanatical zealots.

The Sabbat, thanks to the betrayal, were able to ambush her powerful Sire and administer him the Final Death under a rising dawn. However, their victory was shortlived, as a pack of assembled sheriffs from different spanish cities surrounded them as they celebrated and annihilated them in turn. Needless to say, the Camarilla enforcers had come on Violante's call, letting her to maintain the secret about her betrayal by destroying her hired killers.

Of course, those same Sheriffs brought their progeny to the city and reclaimed it for the Camarilla, bringing a newly named Prince from a different city. Those same progeny formed the Prince's council and shortly thereafter decreed the expulsion of Violante from the city, fearful that her contacts and local knowledge would be eventually a danger for their own ambitions.

With her inheritance taken, and her belongings despoiled, she had to leave the city only with what she could carry. Soon after, and for reason unknown to her, she received a letter from the Prince of London. Although she could not discern the reasons for why she was a receiver of the letter, she accepted it as a new opportunity, and soon booked a night flight for London.

Name: Pytor Mazur
Age (Total and since being Embraced, no older than 100 TOTAL):  77 since embraced, 95 total.
Clan (One only):  Nosferatu
Appearance (Pic and description if possible):  Like all Nosferatu, Jonothan has a hideous facial appearance; his face, which has rarely been seen, is a maze of scars, loose flaps of dead skin which in turn matches the rest of his body, which is bulky but hunched over almost constantly due to living in the London sewers.
Equipment (Weapons, charms, anything that they'll have):  A sawn-off shotgun which he keeps concealed underneath his baggy clothes, a overly baggy hoodie and track suits which he conceals a variety of syringes, a few spare shotgun shells and various knives around as well as a dirty leather suitcase that carries his laptop.
Skills (Anything you can do above the norm):  Jonothan has only focused on two main disciplines, Animalism and Obfuscate and has completely disregarded Potence has he believes his cunningly concealed lair will prevent him from ever coming to harm. As for more mundane skills, Jonothan is also a self-trained computer, safe and code cracker which he uses to assist him in gathering information without leaving his sanctuary.
Biography (Be descriptive, please.): 

Pytor was born in Russia shortly after the of the First World War, which his father died in and left his mother to raise him alone until she died shortly after left and moved to the UK in 1920, fleeing the rise of the Soviet Union and the Bolsheviks. When in London Pytor and his mother joined the massive community of migrants in the East End.

It was on a normal day in 1937 that everything changed. Pytor had been working with a gang of smugglers for a few months to earn some extra money on the side of his normal job as a dockworker, when the police caught wind of the gang's illegal shipment of various weapons. The police raided the gang's warehouse during a meeting, and most of the gang was arrested except for a few who weren't present and Pytor who escaped into the London sewers.

Pytor wandered the maze of tunnels for what felt like a year to him with no sign of escape, until he spotted a flickering light in the distance. Pytor had found his Sire. The rather ugly man who squatted by the flickering light gave Pytor a simple choice; stay with him, and be 'changed' or leave and die. Not seeing any other option, Pytor chose the former, and was soon Embraced.

With his Sire, Pytor learned many tricks that would become useful in his future trade as a information broker while his Sire explained the details behind the Masquerade and other related matters. He worked as a information broker during both WW2 and the Cold War, selling information freely to anyone who asked through a system of dead drops throughout London.

During the late 50's, Pytor left his Sire to carve out his own network, which he did with great success and soon began to embrace various new technologies such as phone tapping before he continued selling information to whoever wanted it for various things before a he found a letter in one of his many dead drops.

Name: Renard Duperie (birth name: Robert Davidson)
Age (Total and since being Embraced, no older than 100 TOTAL): 34 total, embraced at 26 (8 years since embraced).
Clan (One only): Toreador
Appearance (Pic and description if possible): Short, lean and very flimsy looking. Renard does not exactly scream strength, though he is a Toreador and so has many who admire him in a carnal fashion regardless. Notable wears a lot of hats, particularly bowler hats. No major scars or markings, as such a physical imperfection would be a travesty and dealt with as soon as possible.
Equipment (Weapons, charms, anything that they'll have): Surgical equipment, case of silicon implants, many many small sharp knives.
Skills (Anything you can do above the norm): Renard focuses upon Presence. He so far has Awe and Dread Gaze down, but is working towards Entrancement. In the more mundane field, he is also an amateur plastic surgeon. He does not have a degree is anything whatsoever, but he does have skill in plastic surgery. He does not have as much skill in actual medical practice however, so the best he could do for an injured person is ensure that they died while looking absolutely fabulous.
Biography (Be descriptive, please.): Renard lived what he called an 'excruciatingly mundane and grey' life when he was still a mortal named Robert Davidson. He was an orphan, but he was a rather well-off orphan adopted by a middle class family. Whom more or less just let him do whatever. His only real skill and interest in life was body modification, which he believed was tied down by the oppressive mainstream perception of beauty and should be embraced as a path to physical perfection. As such, he trained as a plastic surgeon. He was semi-notorious in his circle of friends for his ability to direct scathing remarks and put-downs against those who bothered him, though he also had a firm grasp on how to use his social skills positively and was an extremely competent ass-kisser and suck-up. He eventually became a major influence on the social arena of his local area. This was when his soon-to-be Sire took an interest in him, as the Sire was currently enthralled by the body modification scene and saw it as the next big thing. His Sire believed that it would be a crime against art to let someone like Robert live a mortal life and die without reaching his true artistic potential, or at least that was what he said. In reality, it is far more likely that his Sire simply saw an opportunity to involve himself in what he believed to be the next big thing and decided to cash in. Regardless of the reasons behind it, Robert was offered an Embrace by his Sire.

His first response, of course, was to state that while he certainly found his Sire attractive, wasn't it a bit early to get physical? Then he had the concept actually explained to him, with his Sire informing him that he could either agree to the Embrace and become immortal to create his art forever or, well he didn't actually get to finish as the moment he mentioned becoming immortal Robert immediately agreed, not changing his mind even after having the entire process explained to him. And so, he was Embraced. This was also the point at which he discarded his old identity of Robert Davidson, stating that such a name had no poetry, and began calling himself Renard Duperie.

His relationship with his Sire was rather positive for a while, with his Sire explaining the Camarilla and Masquerade to Renard. Renard became moderately involved with Kindred politics, but largely followed his Sire's lead. Eventually of course, his Sire became interested in a new art trend and abandoned Renard to his devices. Renard simply tried to find his Sire one day and could not, though he found a note telling him that he was an 'artistic failure'. This was a bit of a low point, as Renard had pretty much come to see his Sire as a mentor. Thus, Renard was depressed and showed it. Many of his friends were concerned, but most did not wish to pry into his life. Then Renard got angry, and decided to embrace a new art form himself. This was a less physical art form than plastic surgery, but oh so much more widespread. Renard embraced the art of revenge, seeking out people who knew his Sire, no matter how loosely, and sabotaging their lives in various ways. A cruel word placed just right to get a struggling artist to open up her wrists and bleed herself dry, a flirtatious remark to a man with relationship struggles to invoke a reaction causing his girlfriend to think he was cheating on her with a guy, convincing a sexually active man that it would be an ingenious idea to slip some drugs into a girl at the bar's drink and have some fun (and then informing the girl's well-armed father of this event), and other such things. Eventually, the few people who remained were the closest to his Sire and fellow vampires. These people were largely untouchable, as while a few dead mortals is nothing major a dead vampire might cause some trouble. And so Renard returned to his depression.

Then, a letter arrived to him caling him to London. This posed an issue, as he still had some mortal associates who would find his disappearance somewhat suspicious. So, he tearfully ran out his apartment, attracting said associates to follow him, led them to a cliff, and then hid himself away nearby. People assumed he had jumped, though there were a few dissenters. The fact that no body was ever found got a few suspicious remarks even from those who accepted he had jumped off the cliff, but nothing major was ever done. Renard Duperie was dead, and Renard Duperie was on his way to London.

Name: DeDanaan Connelly (nickname: DeeDee)
Age: 98
Clan: Malkavian Antitribu
Appearance (Pic and description if possible): (Image)
Age- 98 years old
Apparent Age- appears 17
Date of Birth- circa 1900
RIP (Embraced)- 1916
Hair- Raven
Eyes- Green
Race- Caucasian
Nationality- Scottish
Height- 5'0
Weight- 115 lbs
Sex- Female
Equipment (Weapons, charms, anything that they'll have): She walks around with a tattered cat plushie, whom she calls Chesh. It talks to her in singsong.
Skills (Anything you can do above the norm): Because of drinking Brujah blood back when she was initiated into her old Sabbath pack, DeeDee has a certain amount of Celerity. Not a great deal but in moments of high stress, she can sprint incredibly fast. Faster than the blood of her clan allows her.
Biography (Be descriptive, please.): She's the embodiment of silence. Her story started with a piano, a school for the gifted in clammy England, and a man who loved the way her hands slid up and down the ivory keys. Why let decay and age take that away? Darren Somber embraced the 17 year old on the eve of her greatest moment. This shattered the young woman's mind into a million pieces, something that the old Malkavian relished and treasured.

Name: Mable Cornell Berg
Age (Total and since being Embraced, no older than 100 TOTAL): 93, 1 since embrace
Clan (One only): Toreador
Appearance (Pic and description if possible): http://ronewzakcleveland.files.wordpres ... -wide1.jpg Curly, chin-length white hair, fair complexion, thin, medium blue eyes, 5'4" due to stooping.
Equipment (Weapons, charms, anything that they'll have): One very fragile purple flapper dress. Large quantity of illusions. Some sheet music. Tortoiseshell bifocals. Medication for numerous conditions. 8452 feet of twine. 993 feet of thread (pink.) 4985 feet of fishing line. 5103 feet total of assorted yarn. 1 pair of scissors. 3 sewing needles, two self threading and one normal. 1 comic book. 1 crossbow. 6 wood "arrows" sharpened to a point and lacking a head. 18 normal arrows. 4 toothpicks. Locket requiring key (stored inside illusion) to open, containing photos of all parties mentioned by name in the bio except Mitchell and Dakota. One wallet, embossed charcoal grey leather. One wide-brimmed packable hat. One pair embroidered boots. Crude "breastplate" consisting of a hemisphere over a triangle of sheet metal (aluminum) attached (detachable) to a standard triangular bra, covering everything that the aforementioned would on the right side plus two inches in all directions). Assorted cosmetics. Five liters of blood, in soda bottles. Large backpack, with wheels, holding abovementioned minus the bra, hat, and boots. Two changes of outfit- all outfits zip up. Two are cotton, one is velvet.
Skills (Anything you can do above the norm): In order of skill level: Singing (can sing an opera with few mistakes), knots /macramé, stage magic, interior design, pranking, comedy, storytelling, botany (can identify common plants and most varieties of mint).
Biography (Be descriptive, please.):
Born in the early 1920s to a flapper, she grew up around performance art. As the Cornells couldn't afford to send her to college, she took a job as a teacher. She was pretty bad at the teaching part, but found that she was good at entertaining the kids by telling stories. One of her students introduced her to his brother, Arthur Berg, who was on leave from WWII; the two hit it off quickly, agreed to keep in touch, and honored that promise by exchanging over a hundred letters between the spring of 1944 and the summer of 1945. The two continued to court each other through the remainder of 1945 and were married in a small ceremony at Arthur's grandmother's house in the country May 10th, 1946. Arthur managed to find a job and remain cheerful during the 1940s, but in early 1953 he began drinking copious amounts of liquor and showing signs of PTSD. Meanwhile, Mable had had two children: Harry and Vicki. By '53, they were, respectively, almost six and four. Things got to the point where Arthur could barely hold down a job, and, in September of 1958, the point where he was fired. Worsening the emotional situation, Mrs. Cornell died in 1956. Things were very tight the next few years, as Mable repeatedly tried and failed to find a job, and she turned to her childhood passions- the arts- so that she'd have something to take her mind off of her problems. She started with singing, as that required no extra equipment and on her mother's advice she had kept up with it over the years, sneaking in scales and other exercises here and there to keep her voice limber. Now, she started practicing in earnest, attempting tougher and tougher pieces and succeeding beyond her wildest expectations. When her husband in a rare sober moment suggested doing it professionally and Harry, now ten, seconded him, she started asking around, getting in touch with her mother's old contacts, to see if anyone might be interested. Unfortunately, few were interested in giving a woman of her age (she had not aged well at all, due in part to stress) a highly public role (which was more or less alright with Mable, who feared public speaking), but there were some events which, as it was put, "could use a gal with a half-decent voice." While the odd jobs certainly helped to pay the bills, they didn't actually pay them, and, emboldened by her success, she started looking for something a tad more lucrative. Whe she didn't find anything that great, she did find a magician, The Magnificent Maestro, who needed an assistant, wasn't picky about appearance, and was willing to pay about a thousand a year; her voice was, in his opinion, "quite a nice bonus" and helped to net her the job. She took a while to understand the equipment, but once she did, she got good enough with some illusions to be able to prank her boss. Lacking a babysitter and not wanting the kids to for all practical purposes be home alone, she asked her boss if they could tag along, and he said that yes, they could, if they helped out. The kids weren't half bad at it, and he eventually decided to give them some funds as well- 25¢ per trick. Harry and Vicki put their heads together and came up with some crazy stuff, which impressed Maestro more than a bit, as did the novel uses to which Mable had begun to put his illusions.
Anyway, this continued for awhile, until in '66 Harry headed off to college. His other three grandparents had died in the meantime, and while the inheritances were small and minuscule respectively, combined they would pay for just under a year of college while a bit of extra singing would fund the remainder. This brought the situation home, hard. Not only Harry but also Vicki deserved a college education, and as things stood neither would get much of one. Tearfully, she explained the situation to Maestro, asking if he knew of anyone who could both use her skills and pay better and apologizing over and over. He didn't, but a friend of her mom's did: there was a TV station looking for... Well, for someone to add interest, and "you certainly add interest to things, dearie." Vicki, who was becoming quite attractive, remained in Maestro's employ, taking her mother's position as assistant; Mable meanwhile took the job, providing the Berg family with an additional $1500 that year. (At the age of 25, Vicki would start formal higher education; prior to this, she took seminars and the like. Maestro, who'd become something of a grandfather to her, was more than willing to provide transportation.) Despite her looks, Mable's infectious personality and wit boosted the show's ratings enough so that she was given a raise- $500 per year. And the following year, another $500- putting total yearly Berg income between Vicki's eighteenth and twenty-fifth year at around $3800 with Mable's singing.
In 1981, the far-flung Bergs gathered when Maestro died, having retired in '75 when he lost his assistant. Lacking other heirs, he left Vicki and Mable each $742 and half his equipment. When Mable's salary took a sharp downturn in early '85 due to network execs deciding that "someone who didn't look quite so much like a fossil" would be a better choice for her job at the same time that Arthur's health was taking a nosedive, she called up Vicki, whose liberal arts education hadn't been proving too useful in the job market, and suggested that the pair of them team up again; Vicki moved home, which was incredibly helpful for Mable as the two could split duties caring for the ailing Arthur. The younger woman called up her brother, asking if he wanted to join in; he personally was satisfied with his job as an engineer and his lovely wife Diana, but after his then-thirteen year old daughter Nikki overheard and begged for several hours to be sent to her "Granma, at least for the summer, which wouldn't be so bad, right Dad?" the aforementioned relented. Hence, for the next four years, the show was billed as "Masterful: The Maestro's Show Brought to You by Three Generations of Bergs" during the summer and "Masterful: The Maestro's Show Brought to You by the Bergs" the remainder of the year, and Nikki became known in her town for having the coolest summer job ever. Meanwhile, able to draw on most of their past successes and aided by Vicki's beauty, the pair started making quite a bit of money off the show; enough to cover most of Arthur's medical expenses. Harry and Diana, who held a job as a schoolteacher, chipped in to help with the rest, and Harry insisted on covering living expenses for all four with the excuse that, "It's board that I'm paying. This is better than any camp, and alluh those charge board. She's even making money. It's only fair. Besides, with things as they are..."
One advantage of this arrangement was that only two people, Diana and Harry, needed to rush to NYC when, after Arthur had his fourth stroke, a medical exam indicated that multiple organs had more or less stopped functioning and the Bergs were informed that he had a week, if that, left. He eschewed alcohol, that week, spending hours at a time talking to Mable, during which time the two fell back in love. He talked to his daughter, apologizing, mending old wounds, and got to know Nikki as she got to know him as more than "that grumpy man in the next room." For the first time when sober, he met Diana, and, nearly twenty years late, gave the happy couple his blessing, admonishing Harry, "Don't you ever do what I did. Your mother's a wonderful woman, and she deserved better. Deserves better. They both do."
Arthur lived for just under two weeks. His last words were, "I am so sorry."
Life went on after the simple but sweet funeral, but not immediately; Nikki, sixteen, returned home a few weeks early, with her parents, and the magic show, which had been interrupted mid-act, wasn't restarted until early November.
After Nikki headed off to college, the two were torn over whether or not to continue. (Vicki, nearly forty, had met someone who she rather liked- "a pretty doggone cute usher, Mom, and he's doing it as a volunteer." Besides, her experience with her niece had gotten her thinking about kids- of her own- and settling down. Just in case, she ...ed Ed the usher regularly. Nothing came of that as far as bundles of joy went, but the pair married in '93 and adopted Ellen May, 2 years old, the following year.) They did continue, for the next five years, especially after they realized that Nikki had planned to return during summer break, because, "Hey, it's a tradition, and I'd miss you." (Nikki graduated from college in '92 and became a police officer; she met a few cute people both in and out of work, one of them female. That resulted in a very interesting talk with her parents, and then further interesting talks with Vicki and Mable. While the former three were products of their era and Mable even more so, they had been watching as the world changed around them, and, while not terribly thrilled or comfortable with the situation, they accepted it. Mable did, however, strongly recommend "settling down with a nice man" and then frowned, as she herself had settled down with a nice man. "Oh, what do I know? I'm just your old Granma. I'm not really one for these newfangled ideas, but if it makes you happy... Just be careful. Don't marry a drinker, or have... Them give it up. Alrighty, dear?")
When Nikki was 22, a friend of hers found a kitten mewling on the side of the road, and she smirked, having just gotten an idea. One road trip later, not only could Mable and Vicki be accurately called "crazy cat ladies," Nikki had spent a few minutes hurriedly and mercilessly teasing them about that fact. The cat was male, and hence nostalgically named Maestro Arthur Berg.
After Vicki's marriage, Mable attempted to continue the show; while she was good, it got lonesome doing it alone and she had no convenient grandkids around to help, although Vicki and Ellen May (too young) frequently attended. The clincher was when she fractured her hip in '95: she chuckled, saying, "Oh, dear. Alrighty, I finally admit that I'm getting too old for this. Now, as I feel as though I've broken something, could one of you good folks please call an ambulance?" She entered retirement, which quickly became semi-retirement when a small radio station approached her about "erm, maybe doing a tiny segment for us, if you wouldn't mind?" She did not mind, and said as much, asking if a larger segment would be possible- it was, although "at this time we can't give you more money for it, but we wish we could." She took the job gladly- $1000 a year (although that was worth far less than it had been in the sixties), 3 hours on the air 4 days a week. In her free time, she started doing other things: she replanted the little garden that she had been ignoring for... Almost fifty years with a large amount of mint, which she'd always been fond of, and a few other plants; she took up macramé along with Vicki and Ellen, growing quite skilled; she studied upon assorted topics; she found a piano she could use, relearning how to play despite arthritis so that she could accompany herself, and she learned enough about interior design to tastefully redecorate- well, instruct relatives in redecorating- not only her home but Vicki's and Nikki's apartments.
In '98, little Ellen started school, "Gammy Marble" holding her hand and introducing first herself and then her granddaughter to each teacher while "Mommy" held the other and tried to get a word in edgewise.
(Meanwhile, Nikki had been having multiple relationships: one on-off relationship with a baker named Charlene who had been a suspect for a case and had kept in touch afterwards, and a few rebound type ones with assorted guys, most prominently Mitchell, a player in every sense of the word including those of minor-league baseball and flute. During an... encounter with Mitchell, something happened. Maybe the birth control had been forgotten, maybe it had failed. Anyway, when in early July of '99 she realized that she'd missed her period AND been throwing up every morning for weeks, she frantically called Vicki, asking what on earth she should do, as among other things her relationship with Charlene had been getting quite serious. Vicki frowned. "I think you should keep it." She went on to explain her reasoning. The adoption process wasn't easy, and if she ended up with "someone like... Charlene, correct?" then it was unlikely the pair would be able to have a biological kid. With present tech, it wasn't even possible. Not to mention, gay couples weren't too likely to get accepted for adoption... Nikki decided to keep the baby, and Charlene not only was thrilled, she voluntarily took care of Nikki and her cravings. Especially the latter. In the spring of 2000, the family surrounded the new mother(s), who at Mable's request named their son Caleb Arthur. He took his (biological) mother's name due to legal stuff, but would give it as Berg-Gonzalez and legally change it in 2013.
Around the same time, Vicki, who had found herself sans kid for eight extra hours per day, started looking for a job. She found a nice position as a librarian. It didn't pay well and served to fuel the crazy-cat-lady image which she was acquiring, but she wasn't doing it for the money and who cared.)
Things continued in this manner for awhile, with Ellen's receiving her first kiss being the main standout. Mable's health deteriorated somewhat from time to time, but typically picked back up.
A few thing occurred in 2005. First, on May 16, to the sorrow of all who had known him, Maestro the second died. In October of 2005, Harry Berg had a heart attack. He survived, but was informed that, unless he changed his eating habits, he wouldn't survive for too much longer. Not only did he change his eating habits, Mable, Diana, Vicki, Ellen (involuntarily), Charlene (who began baking with less fat, less sugar, and more nutrients), Nikki, and Caleb (also involuntarily) did as well.
(Vicki and Ed's relationship grew somewhat tense, in part due to the recession and Vicki's subsequent having to leave the job which she'd come to love; Ellen continued to date the kisser, Dakota, on and off throughout middle and high school. When she headed off to college in 2011, the two agreed to keep in touch and promptly fell out of touch.
Harry and Diana decided that they'd retire at 65 and travel for a year, and began spending some time each week looking at destinations.
Vicki and Charlene applied for a marriage license 1 January 2013, and were married a month later. Meanwhile, on November 7 of the previous year, Caleb called "great-ant Vicki" and asked for help surprising his parents with a name change on the day of their marriage. He figured they'd get the marriage license the instant the bill took effect, and, "They're kinda elab'rate. I give them about a month." It took some jumping through hoops, but the morning of February 6 Caleb legally became Caleb Arthur Berg-Gonzalez, which was just icing on the tasty, stunning, and uncommonly healthy wedding cake for the happy couple. Mable and Vicki drove down from New York, Ed in tow; Ellen unfortunately couldn't make it, but sent cheap replicas of marriage accoutrements from around the world. Of course, the fathers and mothers of the brides were in attendance, as were Charlene's three brothers, and the pair were married by a judge, female and a close friend of Charlene.)
Mable herself continued to live a sedentary life for the most part- until, in the spring of '13, a Toreador vampire heard her voice, did some research, and, that summer, Embraced her. The local Prince was quite upset and punished the vampire in question, but, being a fan, decide to permit her continued existence. Sireless, she was taught the rules of the Camarilla by that organization. Rather shocked, she quit her radio job and returned to her childhood home, cut off contact with her family except via email, started obtaining blood, mostly animal, from dealers, and, upon learning that harm was no longer permanent and her strength had been augmented, took up self-defense and archery.

CO-OPS:
Ceannairceach

[Morlodania]

--Reserved--

[Pinki3 Pon-3]

Name: Corby Corax
Age: 28 (Embraced at 25)
Clan: Gangrel
Appearance: Short black hair which refuses to stay down no matter what anyone does to it. Green/brown eyes. He is tall and lean. Definitely not a bodybuilder but neither is he weak for his size. He wears a black trench coat to cover up his heavily tattooed frame and a black leather glove over his right hand to hide the patch of feathers from his first Frenzy..
Equipment:
A golden pocket watch from centuries long gone, a family heirloom.
A revolver which he keeps on him simply out of sentimentality.
Skills: Being a newly turned Gangrel, he can only turn into a raven for now. He has excellent eyesight and is exceedingly limber for his size thanks to his training as a boxer.
Possesses an odd knack for solving mental problems, similar to the bird he shifts into.
Biography: Name's Corby Corax, odd right? Yeah, mother wasn't right in the head I'm sure. So me? What like a lifestory? Okay sure. Well . . . I guess I was a trouble child. My father left before I was born. I could tell you I hated him, but I didn't. He left because he thought I was too much responsibility, *shrug* maybe he was right. Anyway, my mother and I lived in the not so nice part of San Andreas. I skipped school and learnt to box. You're not gonna give me flak about that too are you? Look, I made it to grade 12 and dropped out when I realised I already knew everything there. I decided to devote my life to my boxing career despite the support and encouragement from my darling mother, but yeah, that's where I ended up. Day in day out training. Night in night out having the living daylights almost beat out of me. I'd like to say I was a massive hulk who broke a man's skull with one punch but I'd be lying, to be quite honest I was an underdog. I was smaller, not weak but smaller, the others knew it, they exploited it . . . Well so did I. You ever seen the look on a big bruiser's face when he swings a haymaker at your head and before he understands what is going on you're right next to him, one in the breadbasket, and then three jabs to the face, ear, eye, temple, and they were down. I enjoyed that look to no end. The look on everyone's face when I stood over the guy twice my size and chuckled before offering him a hand up. That was my life, plain and simple.

That was when it happened. I left the gym one night to pick up a friend. Coward wasn't there, as expected, nobody liked the night time, there were rumours of beasts with glowing red eyes. Like I gave a red-eyed rats foot. But that night I was followed, perhaps I knew from boxing, or from having spectators watch my back the entire time but this time I wasn't with human company. Of course there were others around. Gang members mostly, looking for a quick buck. Some fool thought I might be a good mug victim. Yeah, no. The rest of my night was uneventful. Returned to the gym where I slept now. Stayed up for some training. That was when I turned and saw him. He appeared as a black wolf and moved to pounce on me. I don't know when the change happened but suddenly he was "human" if I could call it that. He almost pinned me but I managed to side step at the last moment. He stood and swiped, I blocked and countered with a punch. Our deadly dance continued until he got deceptively close and buried his fangs in my neck. . . Damn it was excruciating. I don't know what he did but it was so painful I could barely speak. Instead a focused on repeatedly pummeling his skull, to no avail.

The agony continued for some time before he released me and vanished into the darkness again. A few specks of blood which clearly wasn't my own dripped to the floor as he left, filling me with a false sense of pride. I had wounded it. What I didn't now was that it had wounded itself and given me its blood just before I passed out. I lay on the floor slight and pale with no idea what was happening. Then a fire lit inside of me, a burning hunger, an insatiable thirst. I cannot rightly explain it but I raged out of control that first night, some beast inside of me awoke. I prowled the alleys and shadows, biting into, ripping through, breaking anyone that came within reach. I fed, I drank, it was one and the same. Until the sun began to rise. I stepped into the light and my left arm began burning. With an uncharacteristic snarl I dove for the shadows. My fighters instinct immediately came to terms with it, That hurts, don't do it again. I thought, rather plainly. It was clear the sun burnt me. I had drunk blood, I had fangs. If there was one thing growing up in the slums taught you was how to accept the impossible, your best friend died, you wished the family well, your love interest got raped you stopped her from committing suicide. Things were straightforward with no influence from higher society to cloud our judgement. I was a vampire it seemed. As insane as it sounded, what else explained it? I stayed the day in the rafters of the gym after having found the tuft of black, iridescent feathers on the back of my right hand. That night I fled the city.

It took longer than desired, as most things do, but I came to understand my powers after a while. I could . . . Shapeshift, if that makes sense. Only my hands so far but it was damn helpful. The night vision was pretty handy too.

A winter passed and I was wandering outside in the woods of some nearby village. It was nighttime. I knew I was on another's territory. To be quite honest, I didn't care. Well, not until he appeared and pinned me to a tree. He was a classical native american. His red brown skin a stark contrast to anyone else in the area. He paused before ripping my throat out and raised an eyebrow, "How many winters?" He asked flatly.
I had no idea what he wanted so I simply spoke my thoughts, "Not enough to learn." I said seriously as I tensed up for my retaliation. He released me and sighed deeply, "Welcome to the clan Childe, I shall be your teacher." He said and stalked off back in the direction of his home.

That was three years ago, now I could transform fully, into a raven. I loved the flight, the sight, the adrenaline of the hunt. Now, there was this. This letter summoning me to London. I could make the flight if I did it in steps but it would take me far longer than required. As loath as I was to do it, I would have to fly in a plane.

[Cylarn]

Could I perhaps join up as a human detective, who may serve in a support role to some of the other characters later on? He's not on a vendetta to kill every vampire, but I want him to unintentionally stumble across the existence of vampires. If not, I totally understand.

[Morlodania]

Name: Corby Corax
Age: 28 (Embraced at 25)
Clan: Gangrel
Appearance: Short black hair which refuses to stay down no matter what anyone does to it. Green/brown eyes. He is tall and lean. Definitely not a bodybuilder but neither is he weak for his size. He wears a black suit with a bow tie seemingly all the time which cover up his heavily tattooed frame.
Equipment:
A golden pocket watch from centuries long gone, a family heirloom.
A revolver which he keeps on him simply out of sentimentality.
Skills: Being a newly turned Gangrel, he can only turn into a raven for now. He has excellent eyesight and is exceedingly limber for his size thanks to his training as a boxer.
Possesses an odd knack for solving mental problems, similar to the bird he shifts into.
Biography: Corby was born in America, in a lovely house on a lovely suburban street where everyone got along just fine. Except Corby, he felt, disquieted by the endless peace and tranquility. He wished more than anything that something would break the boring routine of his childhood years. It happened day in, day out, wake up, eat breakfast, go to school, get home go to sleep. And then he got into a fight. At age 13 he got into his first fight, his father was less than impressed despite Corby being on the defense for the fight. Because he won the fight, he was labeled a bully and a jerk. Corby didn't care though, the excitement was exhilarating, and addictive. It wasn't long before Corby was spending time in a boxing ring every day, which was far better than the alternative of ending up in juvey. This way he was labeled as misguided and not a criminal. Funny how society worked. And so life went on. Corby took over from his boxing tutor and began to run the gym until 25 when he was Embraced. It changed his life entirely . . . As embracing generally would. His Sire taught him about the way of the Gangrel, wandering from city to city, learning to feed and leave with out causing national terror. He turned over a new leaf, his new, thinner body meant he no longer looked like a tough as nails boxer so he dressed fancy, black as usual but now it was a suit, not a tracksuit. He took quite well to his animal form, he had a knack for problem solving and finding openings, which had been his saving grace in boxing. As such he was well suited to his Raven body. The transformations came effortlessly after three-years of practice and he did not tire of soaring on pitch black, iridescent wings. Causing locals to point up and mutter about superstitions. Sometimes he even landed on someone's shoulder just to freak them out a bit.

Now, there was this. This letter summoning him to London. He could make the flight if he did it in steps but it would take him far longer than required. As loath as he was to do it, he would have to fly in a plane.

ACCEPTED!

Could I perhaps join up as a human detective, who may serve in a support role to some of the other characters later on? He's not on a vendetta to kill every vampire, but I want him to unintentionally stumble across the existence of vampires. If not, I totally understand.

No, you may not. Sorry, I just can't allow that, you'd be killed the moment you learned the players were vampires.

[New Cinoth]

Reserved!

[Morlodania]

Reserved!

Huzzah!

[Low bloods]

Name: Viral Mekerie
Age: 20. (Embraced at age 19 )
Clan: Toreador.
Appearance:Pail skin, 6' Ft tall, Long white hair that covers an eye, skinny, blood red eyes, wears trench coats and cloaks most of the time, with dresspants or jeans.
Equipment: Broad sword, a few packs of blood.
Skills:Use blood as a weapon. and has good strength and speed.
Biography:Viral had the slackers life as far as he can remember, even when he was bitten he could care less. He is easily overwelmed by money and often finds himself out of it.
He often steals things he might find interesting, but if cought he simply returns it and apologizes. He often gets in fights over it but is quick to escape and only acts out with violence if it is his only way out or to feed.
He is mostly interested music, art, poetry, and personalities, he often observes people and looks for there motives in a conversation.
So he was more than happy to get this letter, but was unsure of why.

[Morlodania]

Name: Viral Mekerie
Age: 19.
Clan: Toreador.
Appearance:Pail skin, 6' tall, straight Long white hair that covers an eye, skinny, blood red eyes, wears trench coats and cloaks most of the time, with dresspants or jeans.
Equipment: executioner's blade, a few packs of blood, and a .
Skills:Use blood as a weapon. and has good strength.
Biography:He recently woke up in a test tube of a science lab, he broke out and now just roams the land of the living. Slightly insane, but calmly and uncaring to the new world that awaits him.

How long ago was he embraced?
What does that period mean?
No, he cannot wake up in a test tube.

[New Cinoth]

I'll have this finished by tomorrow.

[Cylarn]

I apologize for pressing the issue of having a human character in a VTM RP, but what if my character was some sort of scholar or something who is contracted by the Camarillo whenever they need to locate vampiric artifacts. He most likely wouldn't be aware of the true nature of his employers, however. I am just curious if you will consider my proposition.

[Morlodania]

I apologize for pressing the issue of having a human character in a VTM RP, but what if my character was some sort of scholar or something who is contracted by the Camarillo whenever they need to locate vampiric artifacts. He most likely wouldn't be aware of the true nature of his employers, however. I am just curious if you will consider my proposition.

That might be possible, but given that it conflicts with my ability to run an all-vampire story...

[Ceannairceach]

Name: Josephine "Sophie" Marquis
Age: Eighty; sixty years since her Embrace.
Clan: Malkavian
Appearance: Here
Equipment: A pair of engraved push daggers, a Colt anaconda, and always a pack of Parliaments.
Skills: She is extremely well trained in Auspex, one of the three Disciplines generally attributed to the mad clan. To a lesser extent, she is also a student of Dementation, but at a cost of learning these two so well, she has largely forsaken Obfuscate to the point that it is near useless. As well, she also shares the insanity-inducing and -caused insights of the Malkavians, and is quite well inducted into the Malkavian Madness Network. She's a decent thief and street fighter, although the time spent dedicated to studying her disciplines leaves theses skills somewhat wanting. Among her other skills is courtly manipulation, which given her usefulness as a seer, tends to come easy to her. She doesn't enjoy the politics so much as the fun of chaos and destabilization, and often tends to work towards the goals of the clan, rather than anything personal.
Biography: Josephine Marquis lived a somewhat mediocre but eventful life in the years before her Embrace. She was a child of a French soldier, a veteran of World War One, and was born in 1934. Despite being only six at the time of the fall of France, she itched to participate in the resistance efforts, despite her widowed mother doing everything she could to halt that. Although it wouldn't be remarked upon until decades into her embrace, she as a child suffered from oppositional defiant disorder, and as a result of this did everything she could do resist any authority that people attempted to levy against her. This manifested itself in the form of several attempts at running away to join the Free French Forces, only to be found and returned. She started a resistance movement in her school, who "contributed" to the war effort by not doing homework en masse and stealing from the school supplies.

This behavior continued into her teens, post-war. She was always at the front of every protest movement against the government, from anti-colonialism to pro-communism. If the cause was subversive, she was there defending and advancing it, even if at times they contradicted. At the age of twenty, freshly dropped out of university and seeking to join a pro-communist militia, she was Embraced by a visiting American Malkavian, who had enticed her to join him in some anarchic fun. Unable to bear the strangeness of the Malkavian mind, she nearly broke under the pressure; she developed several new issues, specifically waking nightmares that haunt her vision and misophonia, or the hatred of sound.

She was whisked away by her Malkavian sire, who promised to help her alleviate the sounds that crushed her mind through training. And in that respect, he lied, for he took her to the bustling and loud city of New York, where he used her to play the great Jyhad against his fellow Kindred. But in another respect, his training did help; she learned to tolerate the sounds that surrounded her, even if they disgusted her to no end. No longer did she run in terror at the sound of the music that once brought joy to her soul; now, it merely made her uncomfortable, although she would still wretch and shudder whenever the noise grew too loud.

For a time, she broke away from her sire and joined the Anarch movement in Portland, where she studied further the Disciplines of her clan among the Malkavian Anarchs. It was there that she learned more of the Malkavian Madness Network, and through that she slowly became very understanding of just what it was to be a Malkavian. When she shared these insights with her fellow Anarch madmen, they only laughed, smiled, and winked, understanding every word before she even said it.

It was this realization that made her return to her sire in New York, far wiser than before, and also more compliant. She began to play the game the way it was meant to be played; uniting with her fellow Malkavians to toy with the world around her, the other clans and Kine barely even understanding the joke, let alone the reasons behind it. She learned the value of pretending to be more insane than one really was; she began speaking in riddles and rhymes, laughing with the other Kindred of her clan whenever another was confused by her words. Despite her insanity and youth, though, she was certainly a respected member of the New York Camarilla, even if she was only of the tenth generation.

It was very sudden, but entirely expected and prepared for, when she got the message from the London Prince to attend a gathering in that city. Her sire okayed her departure a week before the arrival of the letter, and she cleaned up any business she had left in New York even longer before that. Despite her insight, though, she had no idea why she was being called by Rodgers. Nothing had trickled down the Cobweb either, despite the Prince being a fellow Malkavian. Something important to the Masquerade and Camarilla itself, she assumed, must have been happening in London for such a large amount of childes to be summoned. Which, she assumed once more, meant that they were to be used as cannon fodder for the elders. A glorious prank, perhaps, but a dangerous one as well.

Regardless, she packed her few bags and set sail for London, all the while simultaneously fearing and appreciating what might happen upon her arrival, in between the images of sea monsters and the sound of the waves that haunted her nights.

[Morlodania]

Name: Josephine "Sophie" Marquis
Age: Eighty; sixty years since her Embrace.
Clan: Malkavian
Appearance: Here
Equipment: A pair of engraved push daggers, a Colt anaconda, and always a pack of Parliaments.
Skills: She is extremely well trained in Auspex, one of the three Disciplines generally attributed to the mad clan. To a lesser extent, she is also a student of Dementation, but at a cost of learning these two so well, she has largely forsaken Obfuscate to the point that it is near useless. As well, she also shares the insanity-inducing and -caused insights of the Malkavians, and is quite well inducted into the Malkavian Madness Network. She's a decent thief and street fighter, although the time spent dedicated to studying her disciplines leaves theses skills somewhat wanting.
Biography: Josephine Marquis lived a somewhat mediocre life in the years before her Embrace. She was a child of a French soldier, a veteran of World War One, and was born in 1934. Despite being only six at the time of the fall of France, she itched to participate in the resistance efforts, despite her widowed mother doing everything she could to halt that. Although it wouldn't be remarked upon until decades into her embrace, she as a child suffered from oppositional defiant disorder, and as a result of this did everything she could do resist any authority that people attempted to levy against her. This manifested itself in the form of several attempts at running away to join the Free French Forces, only to be found and returned. She started a resistance movement in her school, who "contributed" to the war effort by not doing homework en masse and stealing from the school supplies.

This behavior continued into her teens, post-war. She was always at the front of every protest movement against the government, from anti-colonialism to pro-communism. If the cause was subversive, she was there defending and advancing it, even if at times they contradicted. At the age of twenty, freshly dropped out of university and seeking to join a pro-communist militia, she was Embraced by a visiting American Malkavian, who had enticed her to join him in some anarchic fun. Unable to bear the strangeness of the Malkavian mind, she nearly broke under the pressure; she developed several new issues, specifically waking nightmares that haunt her vision and misophonia, or the hatred of sound.

She was whisked away by her Malkavian sire, who promised to help her alleviate the sounds that crushed her mind through training. And in that respect, he lied, for he took her to the bustling and loud city of New York, where he used her to play the great Jyhad against his fellow Kindred. But in another respect, his training did help; she learned to tolerate the sounds that surrounded her, even if they disgusted her to no end. No longer did she run in terror at the sound of the music that once brought joy to her soul; now, it merely made her uncomfortable, although she would still wretch and shudder whenever the noise grew too loud.

For a time, she broke away from her sire and joined the Anarch movement in Portland, where she studied further the Disciplines of her clan among the Malkavian Anarchs. It was there that she learned more of the Malkavian Madness Network, and through that she slowly became very understanding of just what it was to be a Malkavian. When she shared these insights with her fellow Anarch madmen, they only laughed, smiled, and winked, understanding every word before she even said it.

It was this realization that made her return to her sire in New York, far wiser than before, and also more compliant. She began to play the game the way it was meant to be played; uniting with her fellow Malkavians to toy with the world around her, the other clans and Kine barely even understanding the joke, let alone the reasons behind it. She learned the value of pretending to be more insane than one really was; she began speaking in riddles and rhymes, laughing with the other Kindred of her clan whenever another was confused by her words. Despite her insanity and youth, though, she was certainly a respected member of the New York Camarilla, even if she was only of the tenth generation.

It was very sudden, but entirely expected and prepared for, when she got the message from the London Prince to attend a gathering in that city. Her sire okayed her departure a week before the arrival of the letter, and she cleaned up any business she had left in New York even longer before that. Despite her insight, though, she had no idea why she was being called by Rogers. Nothing had trickled down the Cobweb either, despite the Prince being a fellow Malkavian. Something important to the Masquerade and Camarilla itself, she assumed, must have been happening in London for such a large amount of childes to be summoned. Which, she assumed once more, meant that they were to be used as cannon fodder for the elders. A glorious prank, perhaps, but a dangerous one as well.

Regardless, she packed her few bags and set sail for London, all the while simultaneously fearing and appreciating what might happen upon her arrival, in between the images of sea monsters and the sound of the waves that haunted her nights.

This... I like this application...

[Ceannairceach]

This... I like this application...

I'm a big fan of the World of Darkness.

[Morlodania]

This... I like this application...

I'm a big fan of the World of Darkness.

Same here. Nice to see a... Kindred spirit...

[Low bloods]

Second try :I
hopefully that period is gone.

[Morlodania]

Name: Viral Mekerie
Age: 19. (Embraced at age 8 )
Clan: Toreador.
Appearance:Pail skin, 6' Ft tall, Long white hair that covers an eye, skinny, blood red eyes, wears trench coats and cloaks most of the time, with dresspants or jeans.
Equipment: Broad sword, a few packs of blood.
Skills:Use blood as a weapon. and has good strength and speed.
Biography:Viral had the slackers life as far as he can remember, even when he was bitten he could care less. He is easily overwelmed by money and often finds himself out of it.
He often steals things he might find interesting, but if caught he simply returns it and apologizes. He often gets in fights over it but is quick to escape and only acts out with violence if it is his only way out or to feed.
He is mostly interested music, art, poetry, and personalities, he often observes people and looks for there motives in a conversation.
So he was more than happy to get this letter, but was unsure of why.

You stop aging when you're embraced, so he'd look eight...
Besides that, good.

[Ceannairceach]

Name: Viral Mekerie
Age: 19. (Embraced at age 8 )
Clan: Toreador.
Appearance:Pail skin, 6' Ft tall, Long white hair that covers an eye, skinny, blood red eyes, wears trench coats and cloaks most of the time, with dresspants or jeans.
Equipment: Broad sword, a few packs of blood.
Skills:Use blood as a weapon. and has good strength and speed.
Biography:Viral had the slackers life as far as he can remember, even when he was bitten he could care less. He is easily overwelmed by money and often finds himself out of it.
He often steals things he might find interesting, but if caught he simply returns it and apologizes. He often gets in fights over it but is quick to escape and only acts out with violence if it is his only way out or to feed.
He is mostly interested music, art, poetry, and personalities, he often observes people and looks for there motives in a conversation.
So he was more than happy to get this letter, but was unsure of why.

You stop aging when you're embraced, so he'd look eight...
Besides that, good.

Isn't it generally considered to be illegal in Camarilla society to Embrace a child? Obviously there are exceptions, but just putting it out there.

EDIT: I'd also suggest putting up information about the Masquerade and its laws in the information section.

[Morlodania]

You stop aging when you're embraced, so he'd look eight...
Besides that, good.

Isn't it generally considered to be illegal in Camarilla society to Embrace a child? Obviously there are exceptions, but just putting it out there.

EDIT: I'd also suggest putting up information about the Masquerade and its laws in the information section.

Yes, it is.

I knew I forgot something!

[Pinki3 Pon-3]

I can't wait for this to start !

[Low bloods]

Name: Viral Mekerie
Age: 19. (Embraced at age 8 )
Clan: Toreador.
Appearance:Pail skin, 6' Ft tall, Long white hair that covers an eye, skinny, blood red eyes, wears trench coats and cloaks most of the time, with dresspants or jeans.
Equipment: Broad sword, a few packs of blood.
Skills:Use blood as a weapon. and has good strength and speed.
Biography:Viral had the slackers life as far as he can remember, even when he was bitten he could care less. He is easily overwelmed by money and often finds himself out of it.
He often steals things he might find interesting, but if caught he simply returns it and apologizes. He often gets in fights over it but is quick to escape and only acts out with violence if it is his only way out or to feed.
He is mostly interested music, art, poetry, and personalities, he often observes people and looks for there motives in a conversation.
So he was more than happy to get this letter, but was unsure of why.

You stop aging when you're embraced, so he'd look eight...
Besides that, good.

Ok :I

[Flammaland]

How will thaumaturgy work in this rp?