World of Darkness: Master Thread (Always Open)

[Imperialisium]

This looks dope as fuck won't lie.

Glad you think so! Any questions or concerns feel free to drop a line here or in the discord!

[Luminesa]

Society of Leopold

NationStates Name: Luminesa

Character Name: Alexei Bancroft

Age: 25

Title(s): Tertiary

Physical Appearance and Description:

Alexei is roughly 5’8” (1.52m) and 135lbs (58kg). Rather lean for a young man of his age, he is known more for speed than strength. He has knee-length, wavy, silver hair, usually down or in a bun, which is believed to be the result of the enormous stress on his body due to being an Inquisitor, and light-blue eyes. Pale, and occasionally sickly, he strikes far less as a typical human and more almost as a strange sort of mystic, somewhere in-between human and supernatural.

He is most often seen in a casual outfit such as a sweater and jeans, and he wears a pair of reading glasses. His favorite colors seem to be pink, white, and blue. As an Inquisitor, his outfit becomes dark and Gothic-equse, and his calling cards are the camellias on his gloves. He also writes a camellia into his signature on legal documents, for unknown reasons.

Demeanor:
Alexei is kind, gentle, and welcoming toward pretty much everyone. A meek homebody, he appears to be close to his mother, and enjoys spending time at home, cooking or cleaning. His ideal day is a quiet one spent in his own home with one or two close friends, possibly a lover, though he is insecure about his ability to find someone who might love him. A History major at Loyola-Marymount University, he is studious and diligent at completing his work, though he struggles sometimes due to...nighttime activities. Toward humans, he is quiet and rather shy, and he hides his feelings and thoughts unless he is with someone he trusts. Toward those he trusts, he freely shares his thoughts, his life, and his desires, hoping that he will be accepted by that person. Overall, he is pleasant around most people, but shadows stretch across his face, at times, when he is alone.

In reality he hides deep pain from his childhood. The early death of his father, and the stresses of being an Inquisitor, have worn down his personality. While he remains kind and caring toward others, he keeps a distance from most people and is intense regarding his desire to protect the Masquerade. At this point in his life, protecting the Masquerade is one of his sole reasons for living, and he will defend his work with his life. When he is hunting, he becomes cold and quiet, often spending most of his time as an observer before actually attacking. Oddly enough, despite struggling to interact with fellow humans and Inquisitors, he is comfortable speaking to Supernaturals, and often talks to his opponents while in battle.

His pain also includes his many scars from his work as an Inquisitor, however. His way of battling has caused for him to gain bite-marks all along his neck, throat, and shoulders, from un-healed Kisses and near-Embraces by Kindred. The Kiss is a marked weakness of his, as it carries for him the acceptance and the comfort he desperately desires in his private life. He speaks much against temptation and lust for a reason, because he has experienced both himself in some of their cruelest extremes. Despite his deep faith and his love for the Church, he feels trapped at times by his work as an Inquisitor, and by his weakness around those who show any attraction to him. His deep love for beauty is both a strength and a weakness, one that powers his True Faith but also draws Kindred, especially Toreadors, toward him.

True Faith: 5

Physical
Strength: 3
Speed: 4
Stamina: 3

Mental
Intelligence: 4
Wit: 3
Resolve: 5

Biographical Information:
Alexei seems during the day to be a normal human. He was born in Santa Monica, but left for several years after high school. He returned to Los Angeles just several weeks ago, bought his own apartment, and is currently working and going to school on a scholarship at Loyola-Marymount University. However, his history is not merely that simple.

In reality, Alexei is a member of the Society of Leopold, specifically a member of Gladius Dei, labeled as a prodigy from a young age. With a few dozen of dead vampires to his name, including a Tzimisce Elder known only as ‘The Rose Woman’, he was once feared among his own fellow Inquisitors as someone both incredibly powerful and completely devoted to their work. His True Faith is quite strong for a young man his age, and in an organization in which members are known for zeal, he has a reputation for being something of a monk-like figure: chaste, often praying or singing hymns, and speaking softly about spiritual things. He has a strange proclivity to talk about temptation, in particular.

However, a series of events on the East Coast, and a particular case in Los Angeles involving a newborn Childe, caused for Alexei to partially defect. While he is still a member of the Society, he works alone and seems to have his own ideas on how to protect the Masquerade. Of course, the Inquisition has yet to stumble upon the more bizarre parts of his past, as well as his mysterious connection to the Malkavian Primogen, Silvanus.

[Togeria]

Vampire
NationStates Name: Togeria
Character Name: Danny Yamaguchi
Physical Appearance and Description:

Demeanor: Wrathful
Sire: Charles Hans
Generation: 11th
Blood Potency: 2
Clan: Toreador
Bloodline: (if applicable)
Age: 23
Birthdate: August/7/1995

Physical
(7 Points to use at start with a maximum of 8 per field possible as the story progresses)
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 4
Stamina: 2

Social
(6 points to use at start with 8 per field possible as the story progresses)
Charisma: 2
Manipulation: 4

Knowledge
(6 points to use at start with 8 per field possible as the story progresses)
Perception: 2
Intelligence: 1
Wit: 3

Abilities
(8 Possible to use at start with 8 per field possible as the story progresses; up to 10 points possible as story progresses for Disciplines)
Melee: 1
Ranged/Firearms: 2
Disciplines:
Presence: 1
Celerity: 2
Auspex : 2
Additional Skills: Bilingual in Japanese and English (The player behind the vampire though is only somewhat proficient in the former),

Biographical Information
In his youth Danny had been a firecracker a young and vibrant youth full of mischief and adventure, but this is a different story for a different time. No our story begins as he reached the age of 18 as he attended community college near his small town in Northern California. He had never been much of scholar preferring to live by a "philosophy of practicality" things such as science, history, etc didn't really grip the young man unless he could use them to make his life better, that was until he meant the eye of one his professors.

An college algebra professor by the name of Mr. Hans, he didn't know why he was so enamored by the man...it was a sort of energy especially from the eyes, Mr. Hans had the most beautiful eyes. Like tiny spheres of sapphire they seemed to glow even in the brightest of days and everything else from his smile to even his subtle mannerism such a dropping small Deutsche words into his speech only further added to the glamour of the man. Soon Danny found himself spending hours after class for tutoring with the professor. Soon he would drop out of the college to pursue his professor. Their love affair would last a year and in it Danny had felt Hans had shown him the world and more, he nurtured the boy teaching him still privately, buying him gifts, and even on his 19th taking him on a trip to NYC. It was truly the best of occasions and one the same night of his birthday, Hans to unveil to him the first of many secrets of the Camarilla, some secrets some superstitions if only to add to spectacle of it to a young Danny, and once convinced the two would embrace.

Now a fledgling his sire took great to teach him of his new life and to help him control the beast, Danny always remembered the kindness. Being a Toreador, Hans was familiar with the weakness of their bloodline the vanity they so craved and so he always taught Danny to try and keep his urges towards the finer things....even himself under control. Yet the more he accompanied his sire and with each embrace he felt strange somewhat more aware, faster, attractive. Before no one really cared to come to him but soon his stare was enough to entice even the looks of the most rich of yuppies in his town and it was an exhilarating feeling only beaten by that of the sweet embrace. Was this why Hans did what he did? Soon became colder and less responsive? Did he...betray his kindness and try and lead him on? He didn't know, Hans never yelled but his soft tone soon went away he became more distant and even though he masked it with his same old tone and same old ways of approaching the boy, he could see it something had changed. The fire in his eyes that was there when he first saw him still remained, but they burned no longer for him.

So why did Hans still keep!? Why not leave him then? Instead for three more years he still held onto as a lover constantly feeding in his ears lies to put his young mind at ease. He felt his own thoughts contradicting each other, he could feel it or at least he believed he did in heart or what was left in same spot at least. It felt emptier and when he thought of Hans his heart always choked with the same emotion one feels when losing a loved one, not an aching soul raking pain but a low and constant emptiness. The feeling of despair one only feel when what one cares for who they care for turns away, it ached and it stayed and still Hans kept teasing him and he only felt relief in his soft voice despite the lies he knew they were. And for a time he thought that Hans had gained his senses he returned back to him with a new energy, his vigor restored he was stupid to have fallen to an obvious trap.

It would be two months after he turned 21, Hans would enter their room sitting softly on the bed before speaking to him, again he didn't yell and it's why it hurt. He didn't show any emotion no happiness for what he was about say, anger for who he aimed it towards, nor did he even act detached and apathetic in the way he chose his words. He was plain and it hurt he told him simple,"I cannot love you anymore Danny, I've lost my heart for you and I've found it another." The shock of which sent a piercing pain into the mans heart tears swelling in his eyes as he sat off the bed to face his lover. Asking repeatedly to repeat his words repeatedly Hans would return with same few words and betrayed Danny snapped and attacked his Sire. It was fruitless the vampire of 100 years easily overpowered the Neonate, and darkness would encapsulate his vision as his si-ex sire would incapacitate him. After awaking he had found he would be left outside placed upon a field, left to the elements like a stray dog.

Danny arose in a panic scurrying to try and find his sire and only after three weeks of squatting around moving around each corner of his town and into the large city of Sacramento and still he didn't find him. It was than he knew he was abandoned and left to his own fate, for a year afterward he would be forced to live on his own, fend for his own, to hide and keep up the masquerade. It was a hellish life but it did succeed it helped him realize, helped him understand the world he lived in where those of Camarilla could prey on those they wanted without any fear of reaction. It went behind simple mind games and one night stands they could control the entire direction lives to toy with them to their desire vampire, human, or creature alike. They lived for it like some sort of game, calling it Masquerade and imposing secrecy to only extended it and enjoy their sick joke.

Six months after being forced away and he regained his some of bearings he accepted his life now alone and vowed to never fall for the lies of the Camarilla anymore, but this was not enough he needed to go further and he did. The Camarilla didn't need to be avoided it just needed to begone and those who had helped in its formation forced to answer and suffer, but most importantly his old sire the snake he was had to be broken and done so in such a way it sent a message to Camarilla.

He spent four months after trying to find where his Sire could have possibly gone only receiving a the knowledge from a former friend that the man resided in Los Angeles, and so he followed. He still hasn't found him after two more months of searching of trying to find him but with each passing day their chase goes, Danny can feel himself get better get stronger and in his heart he loves the chase and wishes for it continue but only so that when he does finally find him, his sire's end can be done beautifully and made it an art of violence and gore. It would be his ode to Toreador and after he finished than he would the confidence to bring down the Camarilla.

[Luminesa]

Mage

NationStates Name: Luminesa

Character Name: Dr. Konstantin Mikhailov

Age: 80 (Looks about 30)

Birthdate: January 1st, 1937

Physical Appearance and Description:

Demeanor:
A man of whom little is known, Mikhailov has always been seen as a strange, mesmerizing individual, whose sheer presence can be either soothing or terrifying. However, he tends to play toward the "soothing" result more often than not. Generally, he acts kind and polite to most people, though with a rather dark twist. He utterly lacks in morals, and only acts toward furthering his research. Even the research he has undertaken is mostly unknown to others, and he is fine with keeping it that way. Those who are close to him, however, are occasionally allowed glimpses, though his words are often misleading. Even being in extreme pain does not bother him, as long as he gets the result he wants.

Affiliated Watchtower: Watchtower of the Golden Key

Paths: Obrimos

Cabal Alignment: Free Council

Physical
Athleticism: 4
Melee: 3
Ranged/Firearm: 5
Senses/Initiative: 5

Mental & Social
Intelligence: 4
Wit: 6
Leadership: 4

Abilities
Gnosis: 5
Mage Sight: 5
Wisdom: 6
Hubris: 0

Paradox Modifier: 5

Attainments: Create Rote, Lesser Utility

Legacies: Ascended Adept, Scelesti

Biographical Information:

For most people in history, time blurs and blends people into invisible bundles of nameless individuals, whose records are considered insignificant in the grand scheme of history. For Konstantin Mikhailov, the beginning of his life very much was such a thing-a blur. His birthdate is listed as January 1st, 1937, and is the only definitive piece of information regarding his birth. His last name, ‘Mikhailov’, came from the two low-ranking members of the USSR’s government who adopted him after reputedly finding him at random in St. Petersburg (listed as ‘Leningrad’ on his birth certificate). “At random” itself is a bit of a variable-his parents were told to never discuss the circumstances of his birth, or even how they found the child. As a result, they saw little Mikhailov as a burden. He received little affection at home, and generally spent time alone. A keen, studious child, he eavesdropped on his parents’ conversations and taught himself to read by the time he was about two. Such was not enough to earn their attention, though his parents’ associates noticed the boy’s brightness early.

Mikhailov’s parents began to beat him, as he entered school at the age of five. He was told to get perfect grades, and to be the best-behaved in the class. He acted as he was told, learning rapidly and behaving as a model student. Yet one evening, his parents got a note home. He was moody in class and scolded a classmate. He was beaten, and then left in his room without supper. Miraculously, during his suffering he found that he could summon light in his hands by focusing his pain away from his wounds and toward his hands. At six years old, he had discovered that he was a Mage, and a Light Mage at that.

Realizing finally that their child was special, his parents put him into a Magical school away from Leningrad (as WW2 occurred and Leningrad was unsafe). He continued to progress, but showed none of the social skills of a child his age. He was near-silent in class, never smiled, and spoke robotically when asked questions.

Then, as a ten-year-old who had moved back to Leningrad, he met an Eastern Orthodox priest, one of the defining moments of his life. His parents were atheists, as were many members of the USSR’s government, so hearing about the Eastern Orthodox Church was a new experience for him. Deciding he wanted to be a Christian, he was baptized and received his Communion and Confirmation in secret, on September 29th, 1947. He took the Archangel Michael as his patron saint. Even more strangely, the same week he received the Sacraments, he had a vision within the halls of Trinity Cathedral. The cathedral, closed and used for storage, was the place in which he was baptized. During a few hours of intense prayer and contemplation, after yet another beating from his parents, he was supposedly visited by an Angel. A figure draped in light floated through the stained glass behind the altar, and stood behind Mikhailov. The being remained still and peaceful before him, watching over him as he prayed. After an hour more, as the boy rose to leave, the Angel kissed Mikhailov on the forehead, and disappeared without a word. He never saw the Angel again.

The vision of the Angel remained a fixture and a main muse for Mikhailov’s Magical training throughout his years in schooling. He even came to believe that the Angel had somehow enhanced his Magical abilities, and slowly his religious beliefs mixed with his philosophy regarding Magic. While he remained Eastern Orthodox, as he studied Magic, he began to believe that to become a perfect Mage, he had to become an Angel-a superhuman, if not a god. His teachers noticed a change to his personality. He became even more distant, but now was even more deeply passionate about his studies. Those who peeked on him during or after classes would see him seemingly caught in ecstasy, as he meditated and honed his Magic, usually privately somewhere behind the school. His papers on Magic began to reflect his evolving views and experiences, and he was considered head-and-shoulders above his classmates. His hard work, and a group of published papers on Angelology and Magic which he wrote at the age of fifteen, then earned him a scholarship to St. Petersburg University.

Upon entering college, he was still mostly non-social and private. While he had discovered ways to improve his social skills in high school (or to at least learned to pretend to know how to blend with others), he had never been in a long-lasting relationship with anyone at this point. By chance, one night in 1956, he met a lovely young woman who was two years his junior. Her name was Katya, and she was a member of the senior class at his graduating high school. As he was acquainted with her through a friend, he began to fall in love with her, and found himself swept in a new sort of ecstasy. For the first time in his life, he had made a friend, if not a girlfriend. Katya gladly became his girlfriend, and eventually his fiancée, and the two planned to marry when Mikhailov graduated from college. Yet fate had other plans.

Katya’s parents were considered political opponents of the USSR, as staunch anti-communists who refused to hide their views of how the world should be. Katya herself did not support communism, but was more careful to hide her views. Yet she did not remain unscathed for her caution. One night in 1956, three months after she and Mikhailov had met, Katya was kidnapped by secret police and was beaten to an inch of her life. Mikhailov had discovered she was missing when she did not meet him at their usual meeting place, and thus decided to track her down. He found her almost unrecognizable, and presumed her nearly dead at least. Believing she could not be saved in her condition, he drew his pistol and put her out of her misery. In a cold, black fury, he then proceeded through the building and killed every officer he found. Ignoring the blood, he tore off his soaked clothing and walked home in the chill of the summer evening, his world permanently darkened by his actions.

Faith became radicalism, love became obsession, and his studies became all-consuming. Studying was his only comfort, and he graduated in three years instead of in one. During this time, he grieved his actions in secret. He cut nightly, until he nearly killed himself on accident. Ironically, such happened the same night he had been accepted to a position as a chief Mage in a secret member of the USSR’s Magical sector. Deciding to take the position, he was now in a position higher than his aged parents. They hated him for subsequently surpassing them, and tried to have him killed. Yet he discovered their plot, and killed them both instead. He held no remorse. By this time, he found remorse for actions to be limiting, and that his studies were the most important aspect of his life. Even so, the Angel remained in the back of his mind. To those who asked, the Angel’s kiss still haunted him, yet now the Angel was a figure of manic obsession, rather than genuine, pure devotion.

As a chief Mage, he provided a deep well of knowledge on the unseen powers behind Magic. He regarded himself as a sort of Prometheus, and treated himself to whatever and whoever he wanted to indulge himself for his work. However, he found sexual relationships with his workers to be annoying and time-consuming, and thus added to his philosophy that one must rise above carnal desires to become perfect. At the same time, however, he forced himself to keep a persona as the beautiful, charming head-scientist, who could sweep anyone into the palms of his hands with a few choice words. In reality, he was slowly going insane as a result of his work, and he kept to himself when not asked to be a part of social events.

Eventually, he left his position, citing “new career goals” as his reason. He never was into international politics, and found the Cold War to be a game between “a bunch of old, stupid men with lots of shiny toys”. He began an independent base of operations near Siberia, gathering a group of devoted Dark Mages as his assistants. During this time, his Magical abilities rapidly ascended, and he was able to study Time Magic. He found the timelines, and the ability to visit those timelines by using light as his vehicle. He also found that forbidden substances, such as the blood of non-human creatures, would be an interesting way to study the path to godhood.

At this point, in 1967, the timelines of his life diverge. Several timelines list that one of the very beings he captured-a beautiful, homunculus-like creature-killed him in his own laboratory. The Masquerade timeline does not include this character, however, despite this mysterious person becoming a deep, overwhelming obsession in Mikhailov’s life. He believed he had found the Angel of his vision, reincarnated into a humanoid being, and wished to keep it as a source of studies and inspiration. In the Masquerade timeline, Mikhailov lived, and created a massive journal detailing his studies regarding various superhuman creatures. One group was Kindred, whose blood he injected occasionally after those Kindred had died. Usually he used Sabbat, or orphaned vampires, who had no important connections. Yet eventually, in the early 90’s, he was wanted by the new Russian government for decades of suspicious activity. Deciding now was a time for new scenery, he headed to the States.

Los Angeles, he had heard, was full of supernatural activity to examine, and thus he began to reside there quietly. After receiving an invitation from a Magical university in LA, he acted as a professor of Advanced Mysticism for several years in said school, until he decided to become more directly involved with vampires. Thus here we are in 2017, and Mikhailov has left his job to join forces with the Camarilla, hoping to gain more power than he could ever imagine...

[Imperialisium]

Mage

NationStates Name: Luminesa

Character Name: Dr. Konstantin Mikhailov

Age: 81 (Looks about 30)

Birthdate: January 1st, 1937

Physical Appearance and Description:

(Image)

Demeanor:
A man of whom little is known, Mikhailov has always been seen as a strange, mesmerizing individual, whose sheer presence can be either soothing or terrifying. However, he tends to play toward the "soothing" result more often than not. Generally, he acts kind and polite to most people, though with a rather dark twist. He utterly lacks in morals, and only acts toward furthering his research. Even the research he has undertaken is mostly unknown to others, and he is fine with keeping it that way. Those who are close to him, however, are occasionally allowed glimpses, though his words are often misleading. Even being in extreme pain does not bother him, as long as he gets the result he wants.

Affiliated Watchtower: Watchtower of the Golden Key

Paths: Obrimos

Cabal Alignment: Free Council

Physical
Athleticism: 4
Melee: 3
Ranged/Firearm: 5
Senses/Initiative: 5

Mental & Social
Intelligence: 4
Wit: 6
Leadership: 4

Abilities
Gnosis: 5
Mage Sight: 5
Wisdom: 6
Hubris: 0

Paradox Modifier: 5

Attainments: Create Rote, Lesser Utility

Legacies: Ascended Adept, Scelesti

Biographical Information:

For most people in history, time blurs and blends people into invisible nerds of nameless individuals, whose records are considered insignificant in the grand scheme of history. For Konstantin Mikhailov, the beginning of his life very much was such a thing-a blur. His birthdate is listed as January 1st, 1937, and is the only definitive piece of information regarding his birth. His last name, ‘Mikhailov’, came from the two low-ranking members of the USSR’s government who adopted him after reputedly finding him at random in St. Petersburg (listed as ‘Leningrad’ on his birth certificate). “At random” itself is a bit of a variable-his parents were told to never discuss the circumstances of his birth, or even how they found the child. As a result, they saw little Mikhailov as a burden. He received little affection at home, and generally spent time alone. A keen, studious child, he eavesdropped on his parents’ conversations and taught himself to read by the time he was about two. Such was not enough to earn their attention, though his parents’ associates noticed the boy’s brightness early.

Mikhailov’s parents began to beat him, as he entered school at the age of five. He was told to get perfect grades, and to be the best-behaved in the class. He acted as he was told, learning rapidly and behaving as a model student. Yet one evening, his parents got a note home. He was moody in class and scolded a classmate. He was beaten, and then left in his room without supper. Miraculously, during his suffering he found that he could summon light in his hands by focusing his pain away from his wounds and toward his hands. At six years old, he had discovered that he was a Mage, and a Light Mage at that.

Realizing finally that their child was special, his parents put him into a Magical school away from Leningrad (as WW2 occurred and Leningrad was unsafe). He continued to progress, but showed none of the social skills of a child his age. He was near-silent in class, never smiled, and spoke robotically when asked questions.

Then, as a ten-year-old who had moved back to Leningrad, he met an Eastern Orthodox priest, one of the defining moments of his life. His parents were atheists, as were many members of the USSR’s government, so hearing about the Eastern Orthodox Church was a new experience for him. Deciding he wanted to be a Christian, he was baptized and received his Communion and Confirmation in secret, on September 29th, 1947. He took the Archangel Michael as his patron saint. Even more strangely, the same week he received the Sacraments, he had a vision within the halls of Trinity Cathedral. The cathedral, closed and used for storage, was the place in which he was baptized. During a few hours of intense prayer and contemplation, after yet another beating from his parents, he was supposedly visited by an Angel. A figure draped in light floated through the stained glass behind the altar, and stood behind Mikhailov. The being remained still and peaceful before him, watching over him as he prayed. After an hour more, as the boy rose to leave, the Angel kissed Mikhailov on the forehead, and disappeared without a word. He never saw the Angel again.

The vision of the Angel remained a fixture and a main muse for Mikhailov’s Magical training throughout his years in schooling. He even came to believe that the Angel had somehow enhanced his Magical abilities, and slowly his religious beliefs mixed with his philosophy regarding Magic. While he remained Eastern Orthodox, as he studied Magic, he began to believe that to become a perfect Mage, he had to become an Angel-a superhuman, if not a god. His teachers noticed a change to his personality. He became even more distant, but now was even more deeply passionate about his studies. Those who peeked on him during or after classes would see him seemingly caught in ecstasy, as he meditated and honed his Magic, usually privately somewhere behind the school. His papers on Magic began to reflect his evolving views and experiences, and he was considered head-and-shoulders above his classmates. His hard work, and a group of published papers on Angelology and Magic which he wrote at the age of fifteen, then earned him a scholarship to St. Petersburg University.

Upon entering college, he was still mostly non-social and private. While he had discovered ways to improve his social skills in high school (or to at least learned to pretend to know how to blend with others), he had never been in a long-lasting relationship with anyone at this point. By chance, one night in 1956, he met a lovely young woman who was two years his junior. Her name was Katya, and she was a member of the senior class at his graduating high school. As he was acquainted with her through a friend, he began to fall in love with her, and found himself swept in a new sort of ecstasy. For the first time in his life, he had made a friend, if not a girlfriend. Katya gladly became his girlfriend, and eventually his fiancée, and the two planned to marry when Mikhailov graduated from college. Yet fate had other plans.

Katya’s parents were considered political opponents of the USSR, as staunch anti-communists who refused to hide their views of how the world should be. Katya herself did not support communism, but was more careful to hide her views. Yet she did not remain unscathed for her caution. One night in 1956, three months after she and Mikhailov had met, Katya was kidnapped by secret police and was beaten to an inch of her life. Mikhailov had discovered she was missing when she did not meet him at their usual meeting place, and thus decided to track her down. He found her almost unrecognizable, and presumed her nearly dead at least. Believing she could not be saved in her condition, he drew his pistol and put her out of her misery. In a cold, black fury, he then proceeded through the building and killed every officer he found. Ignoring the blood, he tore off his soaked clothing and walked home in the chill of the summer evening, his world permanently darkened by his actions.

Faith became radicalism, love became obsession, and his studies became all-consuming. Studying was his only comfort, and he graduated in three years instead of in one. During this time, he grieved his actions in secret. He cut nightly, until he nearly killed himself on accident. Ironically, such happened the same night he had been accepted to a position as a chief Mage in a secret member of the USSR’s Magical sector. Deciding to take the position, he was now in a position higher than his aged parents. They hated him for subsequently surpassing them, and tried to have him killed. Yet he discovered their plot, and killed them both instead. He held no remorse. By this time, he found remorse for actions to be limiting, and that his studies were the most important aspect of his life. Even so, the Angel remained in the back of his mind. To those who asked, the Angel’s kiss still haunted him, yet now the Angel was a figure of manic obsession, rather than genuine, pure devotion.

As a chief Mage, he provided a deep well of knowledge on the unseen powers behind Magic. He regarded himself as a sort of Prometheus, and treated himself to whatever and whoever he wanted to indulge himself for his work. However, he found sexual relationships with his workers to be annoying and time-consuming, and thus added to his philosophy that one must rise above carnal desires to become perfect. At the same time, however, he forced himself to keep a persona as the beautiful, charming head-scientist, who could sweep anyone into the palms of his hands with a few choice words. In reality, he was slowly going insane as a result of his work, and he kept to himself when not asked to be a part of social events.

Eventually, he left his position, citing “new career goals” as his reason. He never was into international politics, and found the Cold War to be a game between “a bunch of old, stupid men with lots of shiny toys”. He began an independent base of operations near Siberia, gathering a group of devoted Dark Mages as his assistants. During this time, his Magical abilities rapidly ascended, and he was able to study Time Magic. He found the timelines, and the ability to visit those timelines by using light as his vehicle. He also found that forbidden substances, such as the blood of non-human creatures, would be an interesting way to study the path to godhood.

At this point, in 1967, the timelines of his life diverge. Several timelines list that one of the very beings he captured-a beautiful, homunculus-like creature-killed him in his own laboratory. The Masquerade timeline does not include this character, however, despite this mysterious person becoming a deep, overwhelming obsession in Mikhailov’s life. He believed he had found the Angel of his vision, reincarnated into a humanoid being, and wished to keep it as a source of studies and inspiration. In the Masquerade timeline, Mikhailov lived, and created a massive journal detailing his studies regarding various superhuman creatures. One group was Kindred, whose blood he injected occasionally after those Kindred had died. Usually he used Sabbat, or orphaned vampires, who had no important connections. Yet eventually, in the early 90’s, he was wanted by the new Russian government for decades of suspicious activity. Deciding now was a time for new scenery, he headed to the States.

Los Angeles, he had heard, was full of supernatural activity to examine, and thus he began to reside there quietly. After receiving an invitation from a Magical university in LA, he acted as a professor of Advanced Mysticism for several years in said school, until he decided to become more directly involved with vampires. Thus here we are in 2016, and Mikhailov has left his job to join forces with the Camarilla, hoping to gain more power than he could ever imagine...

Thank you for making the changes to the new app format. This grandfathered in character is of course formally re-accepted.

FYI the current IC year is 2017

[Imperialisium]

Vampire
NationStates Name: Togeria
Character Name: Danny Yamaguchi
Physical Appearance and Description:

(Image)

Demeanor: Wrathful
Sire: Charles Hans
Generation: 11th
Blood Potency: 2
Clan: Toreador
Bloodline: (if applicable)
Age: 23
Birthdate: August/7/1995

Physical
(7 Points to use at start with a maximum of 8 per field possible as the story progresses)
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 4
Stamina: 2

Social
(6 points to use at start with 8 per field possible as the story progresses)
Charisma: 2
Manipulation: 4

Knowledge
(6 points to use at start with 8 per field possible as the story progresses)
Perception: 2
Intelligence: 1
Wit: 3

Abilities
(8 Possible to use at start with 8 per field possible as the story progresses; up to 10 points possible as story progresses for Disciplines)
Melee: 1
Ranged/Firearms: 2
Disciplines:
Presence: 1
Celerity: 2
Auspex : 2
Additional Skills: Bilingual in Japanese and English (The player behind the vampire though is only somewhat proficient in the former),

Biographical Information
In his youth Danny had been a firecracker a young and vibrant youth full of mischief and adventure, but this is a different story for a different time. No our story begins as he reached the age of 18 as he attended community college near his small town in Northern California. He had never been much of scholar preferring to live by a "philosophy of practicality" things such as science, history, etc didn't really grip the young man unless he could use them to make his life better, that was until he meant the eye of one his professors.

An college algebra professor by the name of Mr. Hans, he didn't know why he was so enamored by the man...it was a sort of energy especially from the eyes, Mr. Hans had the most beautiful eyes. Like tiny spheres of sapphire they seemed to glow even in the brightest of days and everything else from his smile to even his subtle mannerism such a dropping small Deutsche words into his speech only further added to the glamour of the man. Soon Danny found himself spending hours after class for tutoring with the professor. Soon he would drop out of the college to pursue his professor. Their love affair would last a year and in it Danny had felt Hans had shown him the world and more, he nurtured the boy teaching him still privately, buying him gifts, and even on his 19th taking him on a trip to NYC. It was truly the best of occasions and one the same night of his birthday, Hans to unveil to him the first of many secrets of the Camarilla, some secrets some superstitions if only to add to spectacle of it to a young Danny, and once convinced the two would embrace.

Now a fledgling his sire took great to teach him of his new life and to help him control the beast, Danny always remembered the kindness. Being a Toreador, Hans was familiar with the weakness of their bloodline the vanity they so craved and so he always taught Danny to try and keep his urges towards the finer things....even himself under control. Yet the more he accompanied his sire and with each embrace he felt strange somewhat more aware, faster, attractive. Before no one really cared to come to him but soon his stare was enough to entice even the looks of the most rich of yuppies in his town and it was an exhilarating feeling only beaten by that of the sweet embrace. Was this why Hans did what he did? Soon became colder and less responsive? Did he...betray his kindness and try and lead him on? He didn't know, Hans never yelled but his soft tone soon went away he became more distant and even though he masked it with his same old tone and same old ways of approaching the boy, he could see it something had changed. The fire in his eyes that was there when he first saw him still remained, but they burned no longer for him.

So why did Hans still keep!? Why not leave him then? Instead for three more years he still held onto as a lover constantly feeding in his ears lies to put his young mind at ease. He felt his own thoughts contradicting each other, he could feel it or at least he believed he did in heart or what was left in same spot at least. It felt emptier and when he thought of Hans his heart always choked with the same emotion one feels when losing a loved one, not an aching soul raking pain but a low and constant emptiness. The feeling of despair one only feel when what one cares for who they care for turns away, it ached and it stayed and still Hans kept teasing him and he only felt relief in his soft voice despite the lies he knew they were. And for a time he thought that Hans had gained his senses he returned back to him with a new energy, his vigor restored he was stupid to have fallen to an obvious trap.

It would be two months after he turned 21, Hans would enter their room sitting softly on the bed before speaking to him, again he didn't yell and it's why it hurt. He didn't show any emotion no happiness for what he was about say, anger for who he aimed it towards, nor did he even act detached and apathetic in the way he chose his words. He was plain and it hurt he told him simple,"I cannot love you anymore Danny, I've lost my heart for you and I've found it another." The shock of which sent a piercing pain into the mans heart tears swelling in his eyes as he sat off the bed to face his lover. Asking repeatedly to repeat his words repeatedly Hans would return with same few words and betrayed Danny snapped and attacked his Sire. It was fruitless the vampire of 100 years easily overpowered the Neonate, and darkness would encapsulate his vision as his si-ex sire would incapacitate him. After awaking he had found he would be left outside placed upon a field, left to the elements like a stray dog.

Danny arose in a panic scurrying to try and find his sire and only after three weeks of squatting around moving around each corner of his town and into the large city of Sacramento and still he didn't find him. It was than he knew he was abandoned and left to his own fate, for a year afterward he would be forced to live on his own, fend for his own, to hide and keep up the masquerade. It was a hellish life but it did succeed it helped him realize, helped him understand the world he lived in where those of Camarilla could prey on those they wanted without any fear of reaction. It went behind simple mind games and one night stands they could control the entire direction lives to toy with them to their desire vampire, human, or creature alike. They lived for it like some sort of game, calling it Masquerade and imposing secrecy to only extended it and enjoy their sick joke.

Six months after being forced away and he regained his some of bearings he accepted his life now alone and vowed to never fall for the lies of the Camarilla anymore, but this was not enough he needed to go further and he did. The Camarilla didn't need to be avoided it just needed to begone and those who had helped in its formation forced to answer and suffer, but most importantly his old sire the snake he was had to be broken and done so in such a way it sent a message to Camarilla.

He spent four months after trying to find where his Sire could have possibly gone only receiving a the knowledge from a former friend that the man resided in Los Angeles, and so he followed. He still hasn't found him after two more months of searching of trying to find him but with each passing day their chase goes, Danny can feel himself get better get stronger and in his heart he loves the chase and wishes for it continue but only so that when he does finally find him, his sire's end can be done beautifully and made it an art of violence and gore. It would be his ode to Toreador and after he finished than he would the confidence to bring down the Camarilla.

Accepted

[Luminesa]

Gosh Togeria, that story was a ride.

[Imperialisium]

Post (if I get posts from others) and update coming tomorrow

[Victoria I Penetravir]

I'm in, so I have to post my first on this thread so that tomorrow I'm not gonna forget this.

Also, the application form, I will work on it, but I have not enough much idea to draft, revise and then finalize on it.

[Imperialisium]

I'm in, so I have to post my first on this thread so that tomorrow I'm not gonna forget this.

Also, the application form, I will work on it, but I have not enough much idea to draft, revise and then finalize on it.

No worries. Any questions or concerns feel free to drop me a line or TG

[Ormata]

Vampire Application

NationStates Name: Ormata
Character Name: Alfred Bachelet
Physical Appearance and Description:

Standing at 6’ even, Alfred’s physique can be easily described as worn. His tanned skin features many a scar on it’s surface, his brown hair is kept relatively short and clean, and his moustache is ever-busy. Tufts of hair can be seen behind the man’s ears, however, a subtle marker of a frenzy in his previous ears, though he is lucky in that that is the only marker the man carries.

Demeanor:

Calm, collected, and quiet, Alfred is a individual unused to the greater nuances of conversing with the greater world and it somewhat shows. He has a disliking towards talking, contact with other humans, and instead has a far greater preference for the company of animals with which Alfred can actually understand as far as motivations go. A former patriot, he is not immune from the far more mortal inclinations towards a greater thing.

Sire: Natacha Celice
Generation: 10th
Blood Potency: 4
Clan: Gangrel
Bloodline: N/A
Age: 247
Birthdate: 14 May, 1770

Physical
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 4
Stamina: 2

Social
Charisma: 6
Manipulation: 0

Knowledge
Perception: 4
Intelligence: 1
Wit: 1

Abilities
Melee: 6
Ranged/Firearms: 0
Disciplines: Protean(•), Animalism(•)

Additional Skills:

As a former soldier, Alfred is well-versed in the arts of combat, especially the brutal form of trench warfare. He can set charges, break heads, and throw grenades with the best of them, though has not done so for half a century. Since that point, the man has mostly concentrated on the methods of melee combat with which he is extremely capable, utilizing a style of fighting that favors speed over brute force to deliver cuts and blows. In addition to this, the man is capable in several languages. As a Gangrel, the man is well-versed and well-able to train animals, talk to animals, and generally be one of the pack in the most literal of senses.

Biographical Information

Born in Paris, France in 1770, Alfred experienced the dark reality of that era with his glorious time as a peasant. He rarely held the greater joys that was a full belly, instead having a far more interesting time in attempting to steal from anyone who seemed poor enough that they would not have the power to string him up at the first hint of thievery. His skill in this wouldn’t always be enough and, as such, when the French Revolution began he was one of those who joined-in with the fighting. Alfred would be heavily wounded, however, during the storming of the Bastille. In this stage, his own recollection of the events is hazy at best, yet a woman approached him, took him into her home. She was strong, not at all unfed as many were, and at that place was he Embraced. He was given strength, in a way, strength and a new life.

And then he was left out, out to starve and learn new ways.

Fleeing out into the French countryside, it was there that the young vampire learned the ways, learned how to hunt and how to kill, learned of the swiftness that lay in his limbs and how very, very slow the prey could be. He hunted freely, that era of history chaotic and misbegotten, sects of land laying there without rule. The nobility which jealously hoarded land before had lost their own heads, lost their heads and rule, and the peasantry had taken what was theirs. Alfred rarely talked to people, normal people; he knew that, at that point, there was little in the way of going back. They wouldn’t know what he had gone through, wouldn’t treat with him, wouldn’t deal with the heathen who lived in the forests. Clothing became a novelty worn only for occasion, speech a treat only for enjoyment. He found far more interest, at times, with the animal and beast, and in this the young Frenchman took-on his own pack. They were wild dogs, likely run-off during the burning of their master’s chateau, and these Alfred treated to. He could look into their eyes, speak to them, and in this the young man found friends.

When Napoleon rose to power in 9 November 1799, declared himself Emperor, the declaration went unnoticed by the young man. He tended to his affairs, tended to his life, tended to his dogs right up until another came wandering his way. The man was older, far older, scars sprawled across a landscape of muscle and sinew, and that man asked a very simple question. He asked "How many winters?" and, of course, Alfred did not know the answer. Thereafter, that man, Aymeric Fournier, taught the young man of his world, of the Clan, of the traditions, of what was to be done and how. Alfred listened, of course; how could he not? There was little in that way. He was taught for a few months, before there was that minor realization and confirmation that the man could, in fact, keep his own in the fields, in the forests, in nature. Fournier left quietly, respectfully, as a friend. When the recruiters came around, Alfred said nothing, was nothing; he disappeared, for those times.

He would live in that manner, in rural France, until the Germans came, until the trenches were dug and the gas was released. Nineteen fourteen was that year, that time when the German Army attempted to pierce through a countryside he loved so dearly. In the night, every night, the Frenchman went to war. He went to war in their lines, in their camps, slitting throats and drinking blood, breaking bones and cracking skulls with a mace. Alfred knew that he, too, had to do his part; the words of the Emperor, the man who had been dead for over a century, stayed with him, the words that didn’t stir him then stirring him at that moment, in the 20th Century. He traveled across the lines, enlisting in the French Army, participating in many of the more special actions that demanded a quick hand, that demanded skulls split and grenades tossed. When the war was ended, when Germany was broken, Alfred returned to his former life, returned to a life in the country with a pack of dogs.

The interim period barely touched him, yet when Germany once against rose-up Alfred acted once again. He slit officers’ throats, planted his bombed, brought his information to those who needed it, all while taking what was needed. He drank his blood and drank it often. The war was a feeding time for him, one where he learned the precise nature of humanity, those natures which eluded him so very often before. He learned how to see in the dark, for one thing. Yet when the war ended, when all was said and all was done, Alfred could no longer look back at the fields in France with the mind’s eye that he had held before, no longer look back and see the idyllic fields of his childhood, no longer look back and see a hunting ground. Instead he saw bodies, all of those bodies, all of those people.

And so, Alfred left the countryside for the cities, for rebuilding what was bombed and lost, for rebuilding the broken lives. Once that was all said and all done, once De Gaulle had his handle on things, the man left that nation for another, for another land and another people. He left for the Americas, for the Amazon forest and the world there, for the mountains in the Ozarks and the forests in Oregon, his time in the world leading to a minor degree of wealth and enough to foster projects for national reserves. Alfred’s most recent venture, however, has lead to a residence in Los Angeles, maintaining a home there.

[Imperialisium]

Vampire Application

(Image)

NationStates Name: Ormata
Character Name: Alfred Bachelet
Physical Appearance and Description:

Standing at 6’ even, Alfred’s physique can be easily described as worn. His tanned skin features many a scar on it’s surface, his brown hair is kept relatively short and clean, and his moustache is ever-busy. Tufts of hair can be seen behind the man’s ears, however, a subtle marker of a frenzy in his previous ears, though he is lucky in that that is the only marker the man carries.

Demeanor:

Calm, collected, and quiet, Alfred is a individual unused to the greater nuances of conversing with the greater world and it somewhat shows. He has a disliking towards talking, contact with other humans, and instead has a far greater preference for the company of animals with which Alfred can actually understand as far as motivations go. A former patriot, he is not immune from the far more mortal inclinations towards a greater thing.

Sire: Natacha Celice
Generation: 10th
Blood Potency: 4
Clan: Gangrel
Bloodline: N/A
Age: 247
Birthdate: 14 May, 1770

Physical
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 4
Stamina: 2

Social
Charisma: 6
Manipulation: 0

Knowledge
Perception: 4
Intelligence: 1
Wit: 1

Abilities
Melee: 6
Ranged/Firearms: 0
Disciplines: Protean(•), Animalism(•)

Additional Skills:

As a former soldier, Alfred is well-versed in the arts of combat, especially the brutal form of trench warfare. He can set charges, break heads, and throw grenades with the best of them, though has not done so for half a century. Since that point, the man has mostly concentrated on the methods of melee combat with which he is extremely capable, utilizing a style of fighting that favors speed over brute force to deliver cuts and blows. In addition to this, the man is capable in several languages. As a Gangrel, the man is well-versed and well-able to train animals, talk to animals, and generally be one of the pack in the most literal of senses.

Biographical Information

Born in Paris, France in 1770, Alfred experienced the dark reality of that era with his glorious time as a peasant. He rarely held the greater joys that was a full belly, instead having a far more interesting time in attempting to steal from anyone who seemed poor enough that they would not have the power to string him up at the first hint of thievery. His skill in this wouldn’t always be enough and, as such, when the French Revolution began he was one of those who joined-in with the fighting. Alfred would be heavily wounded, however, during the storming of the Bastille. In this stage, his own recollection of the events is hazy at best, yet a woman approached him, took him into her home. She was strong, not at all unfed as many were, and at that place was he Embraced. He was given strength, in a way, strength and a new life.

And then he was left out, out to starve and learn new ways.

Fleeing out into the French countryside, it was there that the young vampire learned the ways, learned how to hunt and how to kill, learned of the swiftness that lay in his limbs and how very, very slow the prey could be. He hunted freely, that era of history chaotic and misbegotten, sects of land laying there without rule. The nobility which jealously hoarded land before had lost their own heads, lost their heads and rule, and the peasantry had taken what was theirs. Alfred rarely talked to people, normal people; he knew that, at that point, there was little in the way of going back. They wouldn’t know what he had gone through, wouldn’t treat with him, wouldn’t deal with the heathen who lived in the forests. Clothing became a novelty worn only for occasion, speech a treat only for enjoyment. He found far more interest, at times, with the animal and beast, and in this the young Frenchman took-on his own pack. They were wild dogs, likely run-off during the burning of their master’s chateau, and these Alfred treated to. He could look into their eyes, speak to them, and in this the young man found friends.

When Napoleon rose to power in 9 November 1799, declared himself Emperor, the declaration went unnoticed by the young man. He tended to his affairs, tended to his life, tended to his dogs right up until another came wandering his way. The man was older, far older, scars sprawled across a landscape of muscle and sinew, and that man asked a very simple question. He asked "How many winters?" and, of course, Alfred did not know the answer. Thereafter, that man, Aymeric Fournier, taught the young man of his world, of the Clan, of the traditions, of what was to be done and how. Alfred listened, of course; how could he not? There was little in that way. He was taught for a few months, before there was that minor realization and confirmation that the man could, in fact, keep his own in the fields, in the forests, in nature. Fournier left quietly, respectfully, as a friend. When the recruiters came around, Alfred said nothing, was nothing; he disappeared, for those times.

He would live in that manner, in rural France, until the Germans came, until the trenches were dug and the gas was released. Nineteen fourteen was that year, that time when the German Army attempted to pierce through a countryside he loved so dearly. In the night, every night, the Frenchman went to war. He went to war in their lines, in their camps, slitting throats and drinking blood, breaking bones and cracking skulls with a mace. Alfred knew that he, too, had to do his part; the words of the Emperor, the man who had been dead for over a century, stayed with him, the words that didn’t stir him then stirring him at that moment, in the 20th Century. He traveled across the lines, enlisting in the French Army, participating in many of the more special actions that demanded a quick hand, that demanded skulls split and grenades tossed. When the war was ended, when Germany was broken, Alfred returned to his former life, returned to a life in the country with a pack of dogs.

The interim period barely touched him, yet when Germany once against rose-up Alfred acted once again. He slit officers’ throats, planted his bombed, brought his information to those who needed it, all while taking what was needed. He drank his blood and drank it often. The war was a feeding time for him, one where he learned the precise nature of humanity, those natures which eluded him so very often before. He learned how to see in the dark, for one thing. Yet when the war ended, when all was said and all was done, Alfred could no longer look back at the fields in France with the mind’s eye that he had held before, no longer look back and see the idyllic fields of his childhood, no longer look back and see a hunting ground. Instead he saw bodies, all of those bodies, all of those people.

And so, Alfred left the countryside for the cities, for rebuilding what was bombed and lost, for rebuilding the broken lives. Once that was all said and all done, once De Gaulle had his handle on things, the man left that nation for another, for another land and another people. He left for the Americas, for the Amazon forest and the world there, for the mountains in the Ozarks and the forests in Oregon, his time in the world leading to a minor degree of wealth and enough to foster projects for national reserves. Alfred’s most recent venture, however, has lead to a residence in Los Angeles, maintaining a home there.

Accepted

[Ormata]

Delet

[Imperialisium]

Looks snazzy, I’ll spot it in tomorrow. Thanksies

[Imperialisium]

OP has been rebuilt and made more compact. Thanks to Ormata for the formatting!

roster is also being updated

[Parcia]

Vampire
NationStates Name: Tsardom of Parcia
Character Name: Valery Sinclair
Physical Appearance and Description:
Demeanor:
Sire: (Make one up, if you do not know then put Unknown which means a clan less vampire or one of unknown lineage)
Generation: (You'll be between 10th and 13th Generation)
Blood Potency: (Your starting Blood Potency will be between 1 and 4 and be lower for being younger)
Clan:
Bloodline: (if applicable)
Age:
Birthdate:

Physical
(7 Points to use at start with a maximum of 8 per field possible as the story progresses)
Strength:
Dexterity:
Stamina:

Social
(6 points to use at start with 8 per field possible as the story progresses)
Charisma:
Manipulation:

Knowledge
(6 points to use at start with 8 per field possible as the story progresses)
Perception:
Intelligence:
Wit:

Abilities
(8 Possible to use at start with 8 per field possible as the story progresses; up to 10 points possible as story progresses for Disciplines)
Melee:
Ranged/Firearms:
Disciplines:(list and give numerical value of skill)

Additional Skills:(Where you a lawyer, college student, bilingual. Do not go overboard, no one likes a Mary Sue).

Biographical Information
(Expectation is two paragraphs minimum)

[Caltarania]

Vampire

Character Name: Valdemaras 'Valdemar' Mykolaitis
Physical Appearance and Description:

Pale, with striking blue eyes and dark brunette styled hair, Valdemar perhaps fits the bill for the appearance of your typical vampire. He is lean, but not too thin nor tall, and maintains a clean-shaven face. His skin is smooth, though shows some signs of decay as he nears his 100th year. He often dons black robes or cloaks.

Nature: Devil's Advocate
Demeanor: Melancholic
Sire: Žygis Kizlaitis, the Pale Leader
Generation: 13th Generation
Blood Potency: 3
Sect: Independent (Anarch)
Clan: Tremere
Bloodline: Telyavelic
Age: 99 (True Age), 23 (Appearance)
Birthdate: 1919
Embraced: 1942

Physical
Strength: 2/8
Dexterity: 2/8
Stamina: 3/8

Social
Charisma: 3/8
Manipulation: 3/8

Knowledge
Perception: 2/8
Intelligence: 3/8
Wit: 1/8

Abilities
Melee: 0/8
Ranged/Firearms: 3/8
Disciplines:

Sielanic Thaumaturgy 3/10
Auspex 1/10
Presence 1/10

Additional Skills

Languages: Lithuanian, Russian, English
Knowledge of the Occult
Investigation Skills
Academic Skills
Specialisation in Archaeology
Sielanic Thaumaturgy

Path of the Shadow World: 3/5
Expedient Paperwork Ritual
Impassable Trail Ritual
A Touch of Nightshade Ritual

Biographical Information

Valdemaras was born the son of Lithuanian nationalists who had fought to defend Lithuania's independence during the Polish-Lithuanian and Soviet-Lithuanian wars. From a young age, Valdemaras took great interest in the mythology of his people, and came to find himself obsessed with mystical prophecies and ancient tales regaling Lithuanian tribesmen fighting in the defence of their homeland and ancient way of life. In 1937, Valdemaras secured himself a place at Vytautas Magnus University to study History, Archaeology and Mythology; the first member of his peasant family to be able to do so, thanks to the rising literacy levels in his country. During this time, he became aware of ancient tales of nocturnal, bloodthirsty, and supposedly "magical" leaders, who tried to halt the Christianisation of the Baltic coast during the Dark Ages. Valdemaras attempted to write his thesis on the phenomenon, but the 1940 Soviet invasion and occupation of the country put a spanner in the works of that plan.

Valdemaras found himself "volunteering" to aid the new Soviet administration with a top-secret project in Lithuania. The NKVD, alongside it's terror campaign against the high-ranking officials of the former state, was also interested in the mythology of Lithuania; and wanted to use Valdemaras' expertise to "solve the great mystery" of the region. He was placed in charge of an archaeological site near the Latvian border, and while there would unearth signs of an ancient battle amidst a burnt grove, and would find other clues that would point him towards another site, this time in Latvia; near the old city of Riga. By 1941, the operation to unearth ancient mysteries became more complicated, as the German invasion of the Soviet Union allowed SS operatives to flood into the Baltics to compete with the NKVD, whose presence in the region was also reduced. Further, Lithuanian partisans began to harass the countryside. Valdemaras found himself torn by conflicting loyalties; but ultimately, continued on his quest.

By late 1942 he made the greatest discovery of his life near Riga, along with his NKVD companion Anastasia. He uncovered a great, ancient structure in a corpse of trees. Situated on what would have, in ancient times, been a great sacred hill. The discovery was not only theirs, however, as their rivals in the SS had also uncovered the location, and began to surround their position. Outgunned, the two were only saved when the local Lithuanian partisans arrived at the dead of night, and drove off the SS units with a ferocious charge, while chanting ancient hymns and speaking in ungodly tongues. The leaders of this charge had a deathly pale tone of skin, and a sense of evil in their eyes. They reminded Valdemaras of the ancient tales of "magical" tribal leaders from the Dark Ages. Surprisingly, they took a great interest in Valdemaras - and to a lesser extent, Anastasia - and invited him to join them at their camp. With little other choice, he agreed. The pale leaders were intrigued as to how Valdemaras had found the location; to which he replied "I'm an archaeologist, finding things is my profession.". The camp was filled with old trinkets and older-still people, all of whom had a mystical style of dress. Valdemaras asked what all these people were doing, and how they had managed to beat back the SS. He held off on mentioning their likeness to the subjects of old tales. The pale leader responded as if he could read Valdemaras' thoughts. "We are ancient tales reborn." he proclaimed, as he put an arm across Valdemaras' shoulder. "You have uncovered us, a cause for death. I see great potential in you, though, boy, and so I offer you this; an invitation to join us, and our cause... yet be warned, that while we offer great gifts, no gift comes without cost.". Valdemaras nodded. The world went black.

When he awoke, Valdemaras was knelt in front of an empty raised pool, deep within an ancient underground tomb. Surrounding him was many pale-faced elder folk, in ancient hooded clothing and grasping ancient trinkets and tools in their hands. One of the pale elders he recognised as the pale leader of the partisan group. The leader knelt beside him, and without further warning, sunk his teeth into Valdemaras' neck. The pale-faced elders chanted. The feeling was intense, almost orgasmic... and he felt his very essence change in that single moment. He felt a great urge to violence and a great hunger for the blood of men. As the world changed around his eyes, and the elders chanted louder, and the pale leader removed his fangs from Valdemaras' neck. He spoke. Explained. Regaled Valdemaras with the ancient story of their bloodline, of which he was now a member, til death did him part.

From that moment on, Valdemaras was a member of a new generation of Telyavelic Tremere; the new breed, embraced to try and revive the ancient and long-believed dead bloodline. Valdemaras soon learned that everything he had thought myth was actually dark truth. He became an incredibly valuable asset to the bloodline, and though relatively low in generation, soon found himself helping the Telyavelics reestablish themselves across Lithuania, finding himself having been given more and more powers in order to accomplish this. It was, however, always an uphill battle. Although the Germans and the prying SS were eventually pushed out and destroyed, the USSR returned, and with them the prying NKVD. The Telyavelic-backed Lithuanian partisans soon found themselves largely defeated, and the bloodline was forced to retreat again to the shadows. Urbanisation and Sovietization under the Baltic SSRs led to a decline in rural populations, further harming the bloodline, who were forced to enter the cities in order to feed. Luckily, there was never a lack of anti-Soviet feeling to generate support whenever the Telyavelics needed it. That anti-Soviet feeling was used to declare Lithuanian independence in 1990, and this soon led to the independence of all the Baltic states. This was largely manipulated by the Telyavelics; who attempted, ultimately unsuccessfully, to build a Baltic Union.

Following Baltic independence, the bloodline sent Valdemaras to the cities to begin to use the emerging neo-pagan and Romuva movements to build a following and a herd for the bloodline. Valdemaras succeeded, after infiltrating the Romuva movement, and persuading local cells to relocate to the woodlands. Following this, Valdemaras began to study larger Vampiric occultist myths... this drew him, eventually, to the great city of Los Angeles. Although he feels out of place, he is hopeful that he will uncover a great mystery, and give the Telyavelics the help they need to survive in the Modern Nights.

[Imperialisium]

Vampire

(Image)

Character Name: Valdemaras 'Valdemar' Mykolaitis
Physical Appearance and Description:

Pale, with striking blue eyes and dark brunette styled hair, Valdemar perhaps fits the bill for the appearance of your typical vampire. He is lean, but not too thin nor tall, and maintains a clean-shaven face. His skin is smooth, though shows some signs of decay as he nears his 100th year. He often dons black robes or cloaks.

Nature: Devil's Advocate
Demeanor: Melancholic
Sire: Žygis Kizlaitis, the Pale Leader
Generation: 13th Generation
Blood Potency: 3
Sect: Independent (Anarch)
Clan: Tremere
Bloodline: Telyavelic
Age: 99 (True Age), 23 (Appearance)
Birthdate: 1919
Embraced: 1942

Physical
Strength: 2/8
Dexterity: 2/8
Stamina: 3/8

Social
Charisma: 3/8
Manipulation: 3/8

Knowledge
Perception: 2/8
Intelligence: 3/8
Wit: 1/8

Abilities
Melee: 0/8
Ranged/Firearms: 3/8
Disciplines:

Sielanic Thaumaturgy 3/10
Auspex 1/10
Presence 1/10

Additional Skills

Languages: Lithuanian, Russian, English
Knowledge of the Occult
Investigation Skills
Academic Skills
Specialisation in Archaeology
Sielanic Thaumaturgy

Path of the Shadow World: 3/5
Expedient Paperwork Ritual
Impassable Trail Ritual
A Touch of Nightshade Ritual

Biographical Information

Valdemaras was born the son of Lithuanian nationalists who had fought to defend Lithuania's independence during the Polish-Lithuanian and Soviet-Lithuanian wars. From a young age, Valdemaras took great interest in the mythology of his people, and came to find himself obsessed with mystical prophecies and ancient tales regaling Lithuanian tribesmen fighting in the defence of their homeland and ancient way of life. In 1937, Valdemaras secured himself a place at Vytautas Magnus University to study History, Archaeology and Mythology; the first member of his peasant family to be able to do so, thanks to the rising literacy levels in his country. During this time, he became aware of ancient tales of nocturnal, bloodthirsty, and supposedly "magical" leaders, who tried to halt the Christianisation of the Baltic coast during the Dark Ages. Valdemaras attempted to write his thesis on the phenomenon, but the 1940 Soviet invasion and occupation of the country put a spanner in the works of that plan.

Valdemaras found himself "volunteering" to aid the new Soviet administration with a top-secret project in Lithuania. The NKVD, alongside it's terror campaign against the high-ranking officials of the former state, was also interested in the mythology of Lithuania; and wanted to use Valdemaras' expertise to "solve the great mystery" of the region. He was placed in charge of an archaeological site near the Latvian border, and while there would unearth signs of an ancient battle amidst a burnt grove, and would find other clues that would point him towards another site, this time in Latvia; near the old city of Riga. By 1941, the operation to unearth ancient mysteries became more complicated, as the German invasion of the Soviet Union allowed SS operatives to flood into the Baltics to compete with the NKVD, whose presence in the region was also reduced. Further, Lithuanian partisans began to harass the countryside. Valdemaras found himself torn by conflicting loyalties; but ultimately, continued on his quest.

By late 1942 he made the greatest discovery of his life near Riga, along with his NKVD companion Anastasia. He uncovered a great, ancient structure in a corpse of trees. Situated on what would have, in ancient times, been a great sacred hill. The discovery was not only theirs, however, as their rivals in the SS had also uncovered the location, and began to surround their position. Outgunned, the two were only saved when the local Lithuanian partisans arrived at the dead of night, and drove off the SS units with a ferocious charge, while chanting ancient hymns and speaking in ungodly tongues. The leaders of this charge had a deathly pale tone of skin, and a sense of evil in their eyes. They reminded Valdemaras of the ancient tales of "magical" tribal leaders from the Dark Ages. Surprisingly, they took a great interest in Valdemaras - and to a lesser extent, Anastasia - and invited him to join them at their camp. With little other choice, he agreed. The pale leaders were intrigued as to how Valdemaras had found the location; to which he replied "I'm an archaeologist, finding things is my profession.". The camp was filled with old trinkets and older-still people, all of whom had a mystical style of dress. Valdemaras asked what all these people were doing, and how they had managed to beat back the SS. He held off on mentioning their likeness to the subjects of old tales. The pale leader responded as if he could read Valdemaras' thoughts. "We are ancient tales reborn." he proclaimed, as he put an arm across Valdemaras' shoulder. "You have uncovered us, a cause for death. I see great potential in you, though, boy, and so I offer you this; an invitation to join us, and our cause... yet be warned, that while we offer great gifts, no gift comes without cost.". Valdemaras nodded. The world went black.

When he awoke, Valdemaras was knelt in front of an empty raised pool, deep within an ancient underground tomb. Surrounding him was many pale-faced elder folk, in ancient hooded clothing and grasping ancient trinkets and tools in their hands. One of the pale elders he recognised as the pale leader of the partisan group. The leader knelt beside him, and without further warning, sunk his teeth into Valdemaras' neck. The pale-faced elders chanted. The feeling was intense, almost orgasmic... and he felt his very essence change in that single moment. He felt a great urge to violence and a great hunger for the blood of men. As the world changed around his eyes, and the elders chanted louder, and the pale leader removed his fangs from Valdemaras' neck. He spoke. Explained. Regaled Valdemaras with the ancient story of their bloodline, of which he was now a member, til death did him part.

From that moment on, Valdemaras was a member of a new generation of Telyavelic Tremere; the new breed, embraced to try and revive the ancient and long-believed dead bloodline. Valdemaras soon learned that everything he had thought myth was actually dark truth. He became an incredibly valuable asset to the bloodline, and though relatively low in generation, soon found himself helping the Telyavelics reestablish themselves across Lithuania, finding himself having been given more and more powers in order to accomplish this. It was, however, always an uphill battle. Although the Germans and the prying SS were eventually pushed out and destroyed, the USSR returned, and with them the prying NKVD. The Telyavelic-backed Lithuanian partisans soon found themselves largely defeated, and the bloodline was forced to retreat again to the shadows. Urbanisation and Sovietization under the Baltic SSRs led to a decline in rural populations, further harming the bloodline, who were forced to enter the cities in order to feed. Luckily, there was never a lack of anti-Soviet feeling to generate support whenever the Telyavelics needed it. That anti-Soviet feeling was used to declare Lithuanian independence in 1990, and this soon led to the independence of all the Baltic states. This was largely manipulated by the Telyavelics; who attempted, ultimately unsuccessfully, to build a Baltic Union.

Following Baltic independence, the bloodline sent Valdemaras to the cities to begin to use the emerging neo-pagan and Romuva movements to build a following and a herd for the bloodline. Valdemaras succeeded, after infiltrating the Romuva movement, and persuading local cells to relocate to the woodlands. Following this, Valdemaras began to study larger Vampiric occultist myths... this drew him, eventually, to the great city of Los Angeles. Although he feels out of place, he is hopeful that he will uncover a great mystery, and give the Telyavelics the help they need to survive in the Modern Nights.

Accepted

[Imperialisium]

Roster and quest/relic section will be updated in 24 hours

[Parcia]

SO, im not dead.

I did have to move...like...out of state.
As well as change PC (thats why Im not doing this over discord.)

Im still here, and still want to do my little dance at the disco, i just have had to kinda set up my new life...yea.

[Imperialisium]

SO, im not dead.

I did have to move...like...out of state.
As well as change PC (thats why Im not doing this over discord.)

Im still here, and still want to do my little dance at the disco, i just have had to kinda set up my new life...yea.

No worries, RL comes first

[Greater Loralia]

Woah.... hm. This RP, or the other RP I wanna join.

*squints*

I'll have to thoroughly read each OP.

[Imperialisium]

Woah.... hm. This RP, or the other RP I wanna join.

*squints*

I'll have to thoroughly read each OP.

I may be biased. But I’d vote this RP

[Greater Loralia]

Woah.... hm. This RP, or the other RP I wanna join.

*squints*

I'll have to thoroughly read each OP.

I may be biased. But I’d vote this RP

hm, idk if you're biased for sure, yet.

[Imperialisium]

I may be biased. But I’d vote this RP

hm, idk if you're biased for sure, yet.

Lol, fair point