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VtM: Pretty Requiem - Character Sheets
Posts : 478
Join date : 2010-10-03
Age : 29
Location : Normandy SR-2
|Subject: VtM: Pretty Requiem - Character Sheets Tue Dec 21, 2010 3:59 am|| |
I'd think that the only reason for these is to give more information about the characters, if nothing else. Most of it will be rather trivial information, along with the character's back-story(i.e what where they before their embrace, etc). While not intended to be exactly like an official sheet, it is modeled after it(with a few changes to fit my needs). Some of these will be expanded, either just to be elaborated, or once a story-point reveals a fact about the past.
Just for reference, here is something explaining how these sheets, well, operate:
Embrace: Year of Embrace
Gender: Simple descriptor to describe certain characteristics
Affiliation: Loyalty or simple work, the group a character has something to do with
Nature: A character's general behavior
Demeanor: How a character will act in their pursuits
Clan: The flavor of their blood
Generation: How far removed from Caine
Sire: The Maker
Morality: Describes a path of enlightenment(if something is here, 'Humanity' will not be applicable)
Humanity: Describes the height or depth of a character's humanity(if a number is here, 'Morailty' will not be applicable)
Flaws: A character's flaws
Merits: A character's merits
Haven: Where a character calls home
Disciplines: The powers a character can delve into(note that this does match how high they go in Bloodlines, however, some characters might use a power that is higher than tier 5)
Image: A description of the characters looks(sometimes deals with Merits/Flaws)
History: A character's background, varying in where it begins and ends.
Since she is the main character, I give you...
Nature: Celebrant: “Passion sometimes brings strength, but strength without the passion to use it, is pointless.”
Demeanor: Survivalist: “What matters more than survival?”
Generation: 8th(As Embraced), 7th (After Diablere)
Sire: Desmond Crane
Inoffensive to Animals: Though not involved with animals as a human, they don't consider her a threat which is quite true, as she never was cruel to animals, and doesn't quite have the stomach to kill them for blood.
Ambidextrous: She discovered this while she worked in the Museum, and it was quite useful to her. As a Vampire, she retains it, but finds using both far easier than before.
Haven: Times Square Apartment, Schakal Hotel(Suite)
The exact reason for her silvery hair is unknown, but no one questions it, as it is a staple of her beauty. Her eyes are a vivid electric blue, which some believe is a side effect of her Presence discipline. As with any Kindred, a gray-hued skin covers her body, but for her, it seems to be more white, which would allow her to perfectly pass as a porcelain doll, should she ever be that still. Many have noted her vaguely Asian features, making her of Japanese descent, as she had admitted.
When her boyfriend shipped off for Europe in 1944, she worried from the start. He'd already been in Europe once, and it was depressing for her to see him leave a second time. A few months before the War's end, she received news that he'd gone missing. She was young, so it didn't hurt her as much as one would expect. When the war in Europe ended, the soldiers coming home to their girlfriends and family, she was among the many who had no one to welcome home. It almost struck a knife in her heart when she had to watch all the couples celebrating in the streets on V-J day. In the coming years, she didn't go for anyone else. It puzzled her, since she wasn't like some others, who either wanted to, or did marry, before their boyfriend was shipped off to War. They talked, but never really made the decision. Maybe she loved him for real, or it was the puppy love that most share in high-school. Did it matter now that he was missing, or worse...dead? He wasn't with her, so she would have to answer that negatively.
By December 1950, she was Twenty-three, and almost wishing to get out of the mediocre life she was leading. She had no kids, and lived alone. A rare case, but then, she was never the traditional girl her parents wanted her to be. She'd been through school, and took a few courses in the time after the war. She wanted a job in the Arts, and the least she could get was an assistant at a the New York Museum of Art. She wanted to paint, and the credentials she had proved she could. Everything she painted, the curator passed up – much less the consideration of her having her own gallery, or even a section. It was an insult when they sent the letter, explaining simply that “she was no longer needed”. Rather than looking at the reason, she dropped the letter on the floor, leaving it where it fell.
For several reasons, she was driven to take the only thing she felt she could. Her life. Her sister's death, then her family dies in the car crash, and Desmond...all to much for her to take. What else could be said? She was done, and wanted nothing more to do in this life. Another would be great, but she was stuck with the one she had. She could go on living, but truthfully, she just did not want to. What right would anyone have, to say that she could not end her own life? None, as far as she was concerned.
Always one for a scene, she found herself wandering into the snowy Central Park near midnight, and on Christmas Eve, no less. It was only as she held the gun to her head that she heard the voice. The very voice of the man she thought lost. He appealed to her, making her understand what had happened to him. Much of it she could not accept, but the signs were there to see. Though she would've wished otherwise, she saw him as a way out of her life. Something different, in the least. She was embraced a few seconds after midnight, becoming a Vampire on Christmas Morning, 1950.
Thirty-five years later, she found reason to kill her Sire – he was involved with the deaths of her family. She'd initially found this out shortly before her thirty-five year torpor, and was only able to track him down after-wards. With the help of the very few Kindred that she counted as friends, she was able to fight Desmond, though she did so alone. As it was, unlike the last, the fight went only in Kyria's favor, even though Desmond turned out to be a dog with new tricks. Despite this, she proved to be quicker, and stronger, able to pin him to the floor after he lost control of himself in a frenzy.
Though she meant only to kill him from the start, Jackal's presence allotted her another choice. He mentioned Diablere, and with Luna present, she was able to turn a blind eye to it, and thus Kyria killed Desmond through the aforementioned method. Not unexpectedly, she took on some of his powers, but he wasn't strong enough to take her over. Though she took the time to marvel at her new-found power, Jackal chose to speak with her within his haven. Much of the story that was unknown to her, he divulged with impunity, if for nothing else, than to allow her some closure in her feelings.
“He has it coming, and I don't give a damn who cares – or who would advise me otherwise. I have far to many reasons for him to be ashes.”
“I want you gone, because you've done enough to deserve it. Would you really think to beg for your life now? No? I thought, and hoped not.”
“What I plan on doing? Well, perhaps Tinseltown?”
Last edited by Maxus Corvin on Sat Oct 13, 2012 4:31 am; edited 7 times in total
Posts : 478
Join date : 2010-10-03
Age : 29
Location : Normandy SR-2
|Subject: Re: VtM: Pretty Requiem - Character Sheets Sun Jan 02, 2011 12:35 am|| |
Okay, this time it's the former soldier's turn, Desmond:
Embrace: Late 1945
Nature: Conformist: “What is there to say? I am used to following orders, even as I hate it.”
Demeanor: Autocrat: “I could follow someone else, but I think I have done enough of that.”
Sire: Alexei Valentine
Dark Secret: While nothing of note to the Camarilla or the Sabbat, his secret is one he does not want found out – though his eventual death will not be a public affair if it does.
Rival: He has many, though most of them are simply those who support the Camarilla. Some are within the Sabbat, but none wish to kill him, due to the fact that it is commonly known who sired him.
Ambidextrous: His ability to use either hand for most tasks isn't exactly unheard of, but many are unsure of its origin, if that even matters. Maybe it was a joke or a lie, but he did mention learning this ability as a teenager, thought he didn't elaborate any more than that.
Haven: Times Square Apartment
Though he is a Toreador, he does not put an emphasis on clothing, at least not worrying very much about what he does wear. Mostly casual clothing for the era, its his hair style and face that does draw attention, if only because how alluring this visage can be. However, he keeps a semblance of his days as a soldier, so his clothing never evokes the same feelings.
They say that war is hell. War teaches a lesson that few men ever forget. Why? It places you in the middle of an area where death can be certain, taking you out of the environment that you felt safest. Its all to easy to die on the battlefield, but even easier, is to die without reason. He saw this far to many times, mostly in those he counted as far more than just his fellow soldiers. Seeing them die, having their blood splattered on his uniform...all memories he can't bring himself to forget.
He was part of the force that fought in Berlin, during it's fall. Though it was mostly destroyed, his knowledge of what went on, along with the frightening memories of the camps, he couldn't help but hate the soldiers he was gunning down. Though he tried to avoid letting these feelings get the best of him, they did, when he found out the fate of the chancellor. He found this cowardly, which was what he said to his fellow soldiers. His real opinion was that he wanted to kill the man himself, since the war had taken him away from Kyria.
It was his regret, when he was given another reason that he may never see Kyria again. Once again, it was death, though of a different sort. But it wasn't forced on him by a stray bullet, or even a German sniper. It was something else, something that he could not wrap his head around for a time. The woman he was faced with, could play with him like a rag doll, force his body to move as she wished. Her reason for doing so, was that she had an offer. Given the choice, Desmond refused. But Alexei, or so she was called, would not accept refusal. For days, Desmond faced torture, which he wasn't able to fight for long. He would've broken then, but it didn't seem right to do so. He'd faced much worse in training, even though he never bled there. Here, he not only bled, but Alexei frequently sampled of this blood, prompting the obvious look of disgust on Desmond's face.
It was a month after the war's end, that Desmond gave in. Told nothing about what would happen, even as it happened to fast for his mind to process. One moment, Alexei was across the room, and the next, all he could think about was the indescribable mix of pleasure and pain he felt. He found himself on the floor only moments afterward, forced to drink Alexei’s blood. As it seemed, this would be where it ends, in more ways than one. But it was here, where Desmond realized that it was not over. Knowing nothing of what happened to him after he passed out, only to find himself inside of what looked like a...coffin. Even more pressing was the feeling at the back of his throat, a sensation that cried out for blood. That, was when he first felt it. Though he didn't know what to call it, he agreed with it. Breaking free of the coffin, and digging himself out of the dirt, he found himself in the middle of a graveyard. He could smell blood in the air, and it was close.
He found it to be the caretaker, that wandered by him. The sight of him was enough to make the man flush white, and Desmond's only action was to grab the man, savagely biting into his neck. It was like the human feelings were gone. He didn't care that a human life was dying in his arms, he cared only that the blood was satisfying him. The sight of this pleased his master, who was hopeful that the one she'd taken so much time to find, would greatly help both her and the Sabbat.
Over the next few months, he avoided taking up any of the “Paths”, or so they were called, adhering to humanity instead. While this caused a certain degree of frustration in his sire, she did not act upon them. The fact that he had embraced humanity, meant that he thought of nothing else but Kyria. He tried to think of ways he could be with her again, but it didn't seem possible. When he remembered what happened to him, he came to the logical conclusion. This horrified him, the thought of killing her, just so she could be with him. Informing his Sire of her, she denied him, even has she told him that they where going to New York. However, she also mentioned that his request would be reconsidered, but only when she thought him ready for it.
Posts : 478
Join date : 2010-10-03
Age : 29
Location : Normandy SR-2
|Subject: Re: VtM: Pretty Requiem - Character Sheets Mon Jan 10, 2011 4:28 pm|| |
"People make too much noise...but I like it."
Affiliation: Independent, Camarilla(Primogen, 1980-????)
Concept: Teenage Orphan
Nature: Rogue: “Why do I persist as I have? I can, so I do.”
Demeanor: Deviant: “To say I am unusual, should be redundant.”
Generation: 7th(As Embraced), 6th(After Diablerie)
Child: See 'Image' below
Heterochromia: See 'Image' below
Amnesia: Mostly concerning his human life, which he rarely recounts, if at all. Those who have heard the story, even as it is slightly fractured, know from his tone that he does not care about it anyway.
Ambidextrous: A rather curious ability, that allows him to use either hand for any task.
Underworld Ties: He has connections in many local kindred, as well as many in Mafia groups residing in the city.
Nightclub: Owns the 'Kabalt” club, a famous nightclub residing in the city's Manhattan district.
Eat Food: Though he can do so, he shuns it, preferring blood over anything else. He can savor the taste of the food, as well as enjoy it, but it is quite rare that he choose to actually do so. Still, he makes use of it at times, as it makes hiding his true nature much easier.
Haven: Schakal Hotel (Penthouse)
Having the appearance of a 14-15 year old, he does not dress as most kids his age. Though, like most of his clan, he has a tendency to look insane, even he may not always act as such. His hair is mostly silvery-white(though some parts of his hair is still black), and his eyes mis-matched(Left: Red, Right: Violet/Purple). His clothing is usually simple, if darker than what most his age would wear, along with his liking of long jackets. Sometimes, he is seen accompanied by a Doberman(named 'Schakali', apparently), who seems to be his Ghoul. In cases where his apparent age would be suspect to the business at hand, his childe 'Akhet' carries out the dealings.
Born in 1851 as “Alexander Cole”, he was quite unusual – though this was not related to his mental state. Oddly bright, if a little eccentric, he did very well in school. Aside from his slightly unique talents, he was the prime example of how most believed a child should act. However, his condition changed at ten years old, along with many other things. He first became wary of many he was around, refusing to be in their company, or protection, for any reason. He'd sometimes say things about people in the city, sometimes even foul things, usually about what they've done, or are going to do – which would end up being true. While not constant, this behavior was enough for his parents to consult the help of doctors. Not much could be done, but they did suggest treatment, which they were hesitant to decide on.
At twelve, the condition had not changed. Therefore, his parents admitted Alex to the Rolling Hills Asylum in New York As it turns out, doing so was the last time he'd ever see them again, as they died a month later. A fact that he'd never learn, as the events that would transpire in the Asylum would change his life in more ways than one. None of them ways he would refuse to accept.
Treated just like the others, even though many of the nurses were wary of him. This was because he seemed to sense what they might do, or what they've done. Not all of them had a problem with him, or ever heard him say a word, much less say anything to him. One of them, a young woman who started working at the Asylum just after he was admitted, took to him – almost becoming like a mother in his mind. After some time, she was assigned to his room, and it became rare if another nurse ever took care of him. During this time, the feelings were clear to both Alex and the Nurse. He knew she loved him, perhaps a little too much. But he never complained about this, and welcomed the affection that he'd lacked from his own mother, or anyone else.
By Mid-April of 1865, things changed for Alex once again. This time, it was not as easy a transition. He awakened during the night to the sound of screams, unsure of what was going on. He could tell that something was wrong, and it was coming his way. He would've escaped his room, but fear took his will. Even at his age, he knew that nothing was scarier than something.
When the door was opened, it was the Nurse. His absence of visual fear surprised her, but nonetheless, she still grabbed him, holding him close. While she expected the worst, he didn't know what to expect. But nothing he knew could tell him about what was going to knock down the door. In fact, he watched it fall. The figure that stood there was pale, as well as a 'girl' by what Alex knew, though a little older than the nurse, and looked at the pair with an unhealthy interest. She crossed the room, and separated the pair, throwing the Nurse back into a wall. Alex watched the Nurse look at him one final time, a trickle of red falling down her face, and a look of sadness in her eyes that he would forget, once he turned his head to stare into the pale girl's eyes. The girl looked into Alex' eyes, and smiled. That was when his vision blacked out. In that moment, the only thing he could remember was being offered something thick to drink, which he felt himself taking graciously. He was unaware of what it was, but he didn't seem to care. The way she held him as she carried him out of the asylum, made him feel safe in her arms – even as he died, and felt only the darkness of his new life.
In the years that followed, he learned of what he was. A Vampire, a creature forced to feed on the blood of humans for survival. Though his Sire wasn't expecting it, he said nothing of hate for what he was. Rather, he accepted it all, the blood, the life, and most of all, the insanity. Though not unsociable, his aptitude for knowing things about people only strengthened. In his Sire, this ability was weak, but it was strong for him. She used his talent on many Vampires she dealt with, which brought him to a truth that he could not ignore – she was wanted by the Camarilla, or so it was called. Not for embracing Alex, but for killing what she told him was a 'Primogen'. His talent allowed her to avoid or kill the many Vampires who tried to hunt her, as that is not how she wanted it all to end. Nor did she wish to be present while some blue-blood rants to a crowd about what she did, and then has some brute chop her head off. She was meant for more than that, but they wouldn't care.
Her choice to end it all came just after the end of the century. Rather than facing any more of the hunters, she wanted him to bring her final death, and not just by killing her. She wanted him to take all of her blood, and end the entirety of her life – by Diablerizing her. Not knowing, and possibly not caring about what this could bring him, he obeyed her, and subsequently drained her blood, and devouring her soul. A few days later, another of the city's Primogen, acting as such for Alex's own clan, caught up with him, demanding to know where Helena was. Rather than lying, he related what he had done in great detail. He was not believed at first, but this Primogen saw Alex's right eye as him telling the truth about it – which was a side-effect of the diablerie. He'd processed red eyes before this, but after, his right was a deep violet, matching the color Helena was fond of wearing.
While the Primogen should've hauled Alex off to face the Judgment of the Camarilla, he did not. He chose instead to cover it up, giving the story to the city's Prince that Alex assisted the Primogen in killing Helena. This was only the 'public' story, however. The Prince was told the truth in secret, but chose not to place Alex under judgment for it. Instead, they insisted that Alex change his name, and they would remove and destroy any evidence that said someone named “Alexander Cole” ever existed – aside from Alex himself, who would soon take a name that had nothing to do with his previous self, and would make him someone that neither the Camarilla, or the Sabbat would dare touch – if only because he was far to useful to both sides.
“What did you expect of me? If you are lucky, you reserved your judgment until you see the truth.”
“Understanding will never be commonplace, or easy – and to understand me, is never going to be easy.”
“If you were expecting me to be nothing more than a child of Malkav, you have mistaken me. I am much more than anything you think, want, or wish me to be.”
Last edited by Maxus Corvin on Thu Nov 01, 2012 5:17 pm; edited 4 times in total
Posts : 478
Join date : 2010-10-03
Age : 29
Location : Normandy SR-2
|Subject: Re: VtM: Pretty Requiem - Character Sheets Sat Jan 29, 2011 10:57 am|| |
"Why would you even think of understanding me? I don't, even though I know more than you."
Concept: Stage Dancer
Nature: Survivor: “I've faced things that most never will, and before you are the results.”
Demeanor: Follower: “I've been given a reason to assist my Sire, even if he may be rather juvenile in some of his pursuits.”
Vengeance: She did have a score to settle after her embrace, but it was dealt with quickly.
Magic Resistance: Either through the learning of the Tremere's Blood Magic, she seemed resistant to its effects, though some of the more potent ones will effect her(if the caster isn't subdued first).
Double-Jointed: Though it might be speculation, her ability to dance before and after her embrace might be because of this, or at least helped by it.
Haven: Schakal Hotel(Penthouse)
In keeping with her previous status as a stage dancer, she almost always wears some type of dress, mostly white or black, with accessories of either gold or silver. Most famous of these, would be the golden tiara upon her forehead, which has a round disk that resembles the sun, with an eye engraved into it. The bands that make up the sides look like scales, in alternating gold and silver.
The daughter of immigrants, Kathrine worked very hard to achieve her dream, which was to become a famous dancer. Helped along by the growing entertainment industry of the '20s, she first took jobs dancing at various nightclubs, for which she was paid very well, but none of these jobs proved to last. Many club owners praised her skill, and how much profit this incurred, but knew their other dancers could bring in far more. It was only when she landed herself a job at the 'Kabalt', that this nearly endless cycle changed – mostly because she had previously been just something that men would be visually interested in, but never more than that. Though she never really saw the club's owner, she was thankful for the generous pay, even though she wondered why someone like her had only put her name in for the job, and obtained it quite easily. These feelings aside, she never brought this up with any of the other staff, or though to ask her employer about it.
Formerly, she'd been dating a man who ran a successful business, but they broke it off for some reason, neither of them willing to cite a reason. But now, as he heard she not only landed herself a paying job, she was paid just about as much as he previously was, he came crawling back, trying to earn her sympathy with trivial gifts – none of which she accepted. In some ways, she wasn't at all concerned about his business, nor about his problems. She had no ties to him, and didn't want to make any. Why should she, when he'd just drag her down, or worse?
It was a few days later, that he confronted her as she left the club. He'd been drinking, and smelled worse than a bathroom toilet. She meant to say something to the bouncer, but she was ushered into an alley behind the club, and slapped to the ground. Reaching for her purse, which held the pistol she'd bought, he stepped on her hand, nearly breaking several of her fingers. He pulled her up by the neck, and pinned her against a wall, saying “You're just another goddamn bitch. Who cares if you have this fancy job at this shitty club? Doesn't change the fact that you are a...”. Whatever he said last, she didn't catch it, but she could guess well enough. Throwing her to the ground, he picked up her purse, and removed the money from it, before dropping the purse and leaving the alley.
Tears flowed down her face as she laid there. To think that she'd gone above all that, only to get thrown down by a tie she didn't sever. She could act like nothing happened, but that wouldn't stop him. If he'd try something like that again, she couldn't know. All the same, she would felt much better if she could know for sure. Even so, she didn't think this was possible. The situation she was in gave her very few options, and all of them would come with some embarrassment, if someone would want to help her. That aside, she knew she was in no condition to ask for help, much less to do so with some measure of dignity.
It was only as she passed out, that a rather young and pale skinned woman entered the alley, pulling a cigarette from the inside of the loose shirt. Lighting it with some inexplicable method, she looked down to notice the girl on the ground. Bending down, she surveyed the body, knowing without much interaction of the life within, aside from the pain the girl was in. With a wordless gasp, she noticed the girl was one of the dancers employed by the Kabalt. Hefting the girl up, the woman stole into the night with her, interested to see what fate would intend for the girl.
“I thank you Hikari. It was already on my mind, though this just presents me with opportunity.” Kathrine heard this spoken in a masculine voice, but it didn't sound like a man. As she awakened, she still felt pain in her body, even though it was much less than before, being mere sores than anything else. Sitting up, she noticed her visible wounds were all healed, and she laid on a leather sofa, which was in a office of some sort, very darkly lit, and she could somehow sense that she was not the only one in the room. She could plainly see another female, obviously of Asian descent, even as her skin was far to pale – possibly the 'Hikari' that was mentioned. The only other person was obviously much younger, thought there was something about that, that wasn't right.
He was sitting atop a desk, wearing a completely leather outfit, consisting of a long leather jacket, pants, and tall boots, with several buckles that went from his ankles, to just below the top of the boots. He lacked a inner shirt, which openly displayed a chest that would befit a roman statue. Compounding this, was the fact that he looked only a little older than fourteen, yet, he wasn't just a mere boy. In fact, once he slipped from the desk onto his feet, the sight of his face was, in the least, a rival to a sight in an insane asylum. A set of mis-matched eyes, framed by a unkempt, yet neat hair-style, which was both white and black. Worse still, was his smile. His wide grin suggested either that he was quite happy, or that he had plans for god knows what. As she looked closer, she noticed two of his teeth – both like fangs in the mouth of an animal, yet, they where prominently displayed in his. Despite this, she somehow knew that she wasn't in danger. It was clear that, if she was going to be killed, whatever was going to do it, wouldn't wait this long.
“It seems, that for too long, you've been at the edge, hoping that no-one decides to push.” The kid paused, walking closer to Kathrine. “I can erase the this cliff, and allow you to push back. But it comes at a price, and it is steep. You won't be exactly like me, but you will not be weak. One could say that my gift need not be yours, but that choice lies more in your mind, than in that of any person who takes it upon themselves to judge me, or you. All I need from you, is a simple nod.”
For some reason, aside from the unknowns, she felt that it was this path, that kept her alive. It was like she didn't care about the price, only the product of it. As she nodded, the boy sat in her lap, his arms reaching around her back – he was hugging her, for whatever reason. A slight chilling sensation, and the sound of a sniff. “A warmth, the sensation of the sun at dawn. “ He whispered into her ear. Another cold feeling, this time it seemed he had licked the skin on her neck. “My new Childe...Akhet, you shall be.”
The sound of an animal like snarl, and the sharp feeling of a bite, coming from the child who held her around the waist, with his fangs in her neck. Then came the waves of pleasure, the familiar tingling feeling traveling though every part of her body. It was nothing she hadn't felt before, but this was, much better. However, she didn't think the kid meant only this – and she was right, especially when she felt herself getting weak, like she could feel something trying to pull her away. Even so, she still felt him pull away from her, but he didn't remove himself from her lap. Instead, he looked directly into her eyes.
“When humans are born, they are baptized with the life giving water. When we are born into this life, we are baptized by blood.” He grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and slid it off his shoulders. Putting his hand to his chest, he seemed to scratch himself – only when he did, it didn't just create a small white mark. It cut his flesh open, causing a small trickle of blood to ooze out, and slide slowly down his chest. “With this blood, you inherit the gift of Caine, and the essence of Malkav.”
Even as she was weak, she found herself licking his spilling blood. As she did, she felt the same pleasure as before, only this time, she was the cause. She could hear the same snarl coming from him, almost like it was his way of laughing. Though she could hardly get enough, she soon stopped, and he lept out of her lap, landing perfectly on his feet – as she fell to the ground, a pain arising within her that was comparable to nothing she had ever felt before. It felt like dying, but somehow, she herself wasn't. As she crawled, she could see flashes of lightning, along with the sound of snarling, coming from her own mouth.
Once she reached the windows, she used them to support herself as she stood, and nearly screamed when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass. Her eyes had this red color to them, her skin was a little pale, and just like the boy, she had fangs in her own mouth, extending down about half an inch from her eye teeth. She turned back to the boy. “Who are you?”
“I am Jackal, your Sire.”
Last edited by Maxus Corvin on Wed Mar 02, 2011 1:17 am; edited 1 time in total
Posts : 478
Join date : 2010-10-03
Age : 29
Location : Normandy SR-2
|Subject: Re: VtM: Pretty Requiem - Character Sheets Wed Mar 02, 2011 1:13 am|| |
"My story? Might I ask why you want to know?"
Affiliation: Camarilla(Primogen, Fall, 1925-????)
Nature: Gallant: Her rather cold demeanor aside, she is known for being quite flamboyant, at least when it comes to her looks.
Demeanor: Perfectionist: “If it is not perfect, I have not done my job. However, I decide on just how perfect it must be.”
Flaws: “Why would I give my flaws away?”
Piercing Gaze: Many have noted that her very gaze is almost enough to either make them abide her wishes, or run away in fear. Not many have the knowledge to tell if this trait is in play, or her Dominate discipline, no matter the situation.
Pet Project: Though she has been a part of the Camarilla since her embrace, it seems that she is in line to take a position of power – since she acts on behalf of New York's Ventrue Primogen, even though the man seems to be rather lax in his duties, though this is debatable – as this is only his outward appearance.
Haven: Schakal Hotel(Temporary), Ventrue Primogen's Haven
A rarity among Vampires, as she is originally from Japan. While nothing says that such a thing is impossible, many Kindred who know even a little about the Kuei-Jin, expect her to be one of them, instead of a Cainite. This is something that she has to constantly prove, though this is usually to some Elders, which have something against the Kuei-Jin – or that the Elder in question simply does not like them. These instances have been somewhat rare, since most of the Kindred she deals with knows about her status as a Vampire, and thus they have no questions about her, at least not about her Asian appearance.
What is not common knowledge, is the circumstances of her embrace. While not very much unlike that of most other Ventrue, who have linage in European Kings and Nobles, her roots were in Japanese nobility, thought her line had lost royalty long before her birth, and as such, her blood was royal, yet she was not. Her families reason for even being in the Americas is unknown, though the possibility of it being to avoid a contest for power in Japan, but otherwise to make a life in a new land – or so the story goes. While she was informed of what her family had lost, she expressed little interest of wanting such a thing for herself – but this was only what she thought on the surface. Though she did not want the kind of life her ancestors had, the idea of being someone that could command much in others, was pleasing.
By the time she was fifteen, she and her family lived in New York city. To most, they were the 'better' part of the middle class, though she never did understand these class barriers, she found it comforting to be so high on the scale, or so it seemed. Her father's business, a clothing store located in Upper Manhattan, had started out as just that, but began offering tailoring services, which heightened the store's notoriety, and of course, brought in more income. While this was to Hikari's delight, nothing really changed for her – aside from her wish to dress in more traditional clothing, which was quite unusual, given the clothing styles of the era, but this was of no concern to her. However, she mostly dressed in such a way when it was convenient, which was mostly during the time she was not attending school or any other similar function.
Days after the beginning of a New Year, and only a week after her twenty-third birthday, the store, as well as her the home her family occupied, went up in flames. It claimed the lives of both her parents, but she was spared, as she was out with friends at the time. Finding out that her parents were dead was a shock, and she was consoled by a man that she'd known for some time, though they had no serious relationship at the time. Offering her his rather lavish home, she stayed with him for only five days, before he came to her with an offer.
With a few seconds, he went against the rules he'd lived to uphold, though it wasn't foolish, since he'd prepared himself to do so for over a month. Telling her everything, and finally offering a new life to her, he couldn't help but find himself surprised when she offered herself to him, almost like she was nothing more than a whore. Though others would have scolded this behavior in those that would be their progeny, he embraced her in both senses of the word.
Last edited by Maxus Corvin on Tue Jan 07, 2014 3:29 am; edited 3 times in total
Posts : 478
Join date : 2010-10-03
Age : 29
Location : Normandy SR-2
|Subject: Re: VtM: Pretty Requiem - Character Sheets Mon Apr 04, 2011 1:52 pm|| |
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and thus, do you have one who not only wishes for what she cannot have, but invariably wishes only to have her obsession live, even if she has to die. But death will not come by strange hands...
Nature: Bon Vivant: “Why should I wait? I might live forever, but I could still die all the same. If that happens, I would rather it happen now, if it truly needs to. If not, then it is not going to, as I will not allow it.”
Demeanor: Deviant: “Why should I be as you are? I like what I already am.”
Prey Exclusion: While not something she restricts herself to, she seemed to favor the blood of...younger humans, though at some point, she culled this in favor of whatever she can get.
Eidetic Memory: Known for her perfect memory, she doesn't forget anything.
Dual Nature: Known for acting somewhat different, though it is unknown exactly how different.
Haven: No set location.
Her style was, to say the least, macabre. Though she was mostly seen draped in varying hues of violet, the various other things she wore tended to unnerve even other kindred. While not to the level of a Tzimisce, but closer to something born of the Tremere's sorcery, she would have a skull draped(which may, or may not be an actual human skull) over one shoulder, while several other pieces of jewelery in the shape of skulls adorned her clothing, even though some where other trinkets, all of them things she stole, or things she keeps to remind her of...something.
Nothing about her birth, or childhood is interesting, as it is nothing more than a story that has been heard before. Of royal blood, she was born within the German Aristocracy, though there was only a slim chance that she would ever take the throne. However, this proved to be something that would never happen, once she realized just what the life of a Princess would be. A child, the idea had thrilled her, but only because she wasn't thinking, or was doing so little of it, that the impact was no more than a slight tap. As an adult, however, the impact was far more than a slap. To this end, she simply ran. Nothing about that life, was something she wanted.
As she found herself falling to the self-same darkness which she'd always feared, it now was comforting, as it wasn't asking her to change, it wasn't forcing her to do as asked. All it seemed to do, was ask what she wanted, where she wanted to go. This lead her to learn of what most do not. Unfathomable creatures, inherent powers that wait to be unlocked, and the one thing that she saw as freedom – the Kindred. The coven of Mages that allowed her company, seemed to abhor them, but she harbored a secret fascination. Even as she learned of their curse, of their weaknesses, and most of all, their pleasures, nothing about them seemed truly dangerous – though this was because she wished to be one of them.
As the Civil War drew to a close, she found herself feeling something she hadn't, at least not since she left her home. Loneliness. The few other Kindred she traveled with where sufficient company, but something was still missing. Compounding this was the feeling that, something else would never be her's. A child. Long since her embrace had this fact entered her mind, but only now, it became like another knife to stab her. As she could understand, this wasn't a possibility. While the feeling of want was alive, along with her, the body her mind occupied was dead, as was the one thing that could give her a child. For days, she tried to think of a solution, but nothing would come. Perhaps, in time she would leave this foolish endeavor behind, but the heart she still felt, yearned for something that her mind said was impossible.
In April of that year, she and her companions decided to find a suitable location to feed. They were hesitant at first, but like most of the clan, they chose an Asylum. They entered like they were part of the building's staff, but soon enough, that changed. While some of them simply fed, and then moved on, others found the type of prey that left them wanting more, and descended into a Mad frenzy. As Helena walked the halls, feeding only on one or two humans, she found herself before a closed door, which called to her. Inside where two humans, one frightened, the other un-phased by the sounds coming from the halls. Bashing down the door, she found the two inside to be a Nurse, a boy, whom the nurse was holding. Separating the two by throwing the Nurse into a wall, she put her eyes on the boy. He wasn't very old, but there was something to him, that she couldn't leave alone. Not only that, he looked at her with some curiosity, not the fear that she'd seen in the eyes of countless others.
Putting her arms out, her eyes widened as he slowly crawled across the bed to her, his arms embracing her body. As she felt his warmth, she realized the only thing she could do. Picking him up, she stared into his soft eyes, which were both slightly different. Any fear that should've been in them, didn't exist. Somehow, she thought, he had no way to know what she is, but he doesn't seem to care. At this, she kissed his forehead, and watched him lay his head on her shoulder, presenting his soft neck to her. Rather than waiting, she opened her mouth, sinking her fangs into his flesh. Feeling his body shiver, she herself felt the familiar rush that went with drinking blood, but it was still different.
Slowly drawing her fangs out of his neck, she placed one of her nails on her flesh, just above her breasts. Digging the nail into her flesh, she slid it through, creating quite the wound, about an inch long. To her surprise, she saw the boy begin licking the blood instantly, like he thought it was milk. She smiled as she left the room, taking only a second to glance at the name beside the door. The kid's name was 'Alex' – nothing she really needed to know, but it saved her a bit of trouble in asking him. Avoiding the troubles of her companions, she walked the halls of the Asylum, paying no attention to the drained corpses, blood-spattered walls, and the cowering patients. Outside was the same, though once again, she didn't care. She had her prize, she was fed, and the problems of her so called 'friends', didn't matter any more. No longer would she walk the night alone, no matter who would try to come between them. Not any other Kindred, no Camarilla Prince, no Sabbat, and not even the Tremere.
As she taught Alex the things she knew, of the power of his blood, it was obvious to her that he wasn't rejecting any of it. He didn't care about the life he would drain, the pain he caused. If she were more humane, she would've stopped him, but she wasn't so. It was no surprise that the same behavior that, as a Kindred, she'd both been raised on, and raised herself on, was present in her childe – a term that, even if she used it among mortals, could be mistaken for their usage of it. Even worse, was the very thing that the clan was known for. The insanity. Any of Malkav's blood knew that it would never be the same for any kindred, and for her, it was the constant, whispering voices. They would permeate everything, and even when she stood before the boy the first time, all they had to say, was, quite distinctly, 'You know what you want, and it lies, wanting, before you'. How he felt it, wasn't the same as she. The few Kindred they met, he could instantly tell something about them, either a deep, dark secret, or even something they had never told a soul. Others, he would instantly snarl at, knowing what they planned to do, either to them, or someone else. His voice had also changed. Thought she knew little of what he sounded like before, he now spoke with a certain flavor that, while perfectly understandable, reading into the meaning meant you knew just what he did.
Once Alex was able to function on his own, she left him for a time, to deal with what she knew as a 'loose-end'. Even if it would be something she could avoid, it didn't matter, He was the one who believed her worthy of the infamous blood-hunt, but no Prince would order it – as she had, in their eyes, done nothing to warrant it. But even without that, he still made constant attempts to kill her, sending Kindred from various clans to do the job. The last one, and Assamite, Alex sniffed out even before the 'man' said a word. Not to mention, that the boy had even tied the pretty thing down with his own body, before she dug her nails into the flesh of the assassin's neck, and ripped the head off. However, it was too close. The Camarilla could sentence her, if they could actually find her, but he would find death to be quite painful, though she would drive him insane, first.
It took her some time to track him down. Though this proved to be quite annoying, it was justified by the fact that he was both a Camarilla Primogen, and a Tremere Regent. She'd learned some time ago that those positions went hand and hand, though now, that information was of use only because it provided an easy guess, of where he would reside. Most, if not all Tremere hung to the tradition of having their havens in what they call a “Chantry”, and they never were inconspicuous, even though the Tremere where just as adamant about upholding the Masquerade as the Ventrue. With that, it was only a month after she'd left Jackal, that she found the Regent leaving the chantry, having no idea that she was going to stalk him through the city, waiting for the right moment.
She didn't find it surprising, when he confronted her, asking the obvious questions. Any mention of the various assassins, stalkers, or the repeated attempts to have her put under the Camarilla's sword, he denied them all. Once again, no surprise. She knew he was lying, just as much as any Tremere would – though the behavior his exclusive to them. All Kindred would do such things, but only the Tremere would lie, cheat, and steal at every turn, namely if these various occurrences could stay buried in the darkness. All of this, she learned from the Order of Hermes, the very sect of Mages that the Tremere originated from. Their magic, which any self-respecting Tremere would believe to the final death, never falls into the hands of the other clans, frequently does. Either because of the graveyard deals their neonates or even sometimes Regents make, or because some blood falls into the wrong mouth. But she didn't have a distaste for the Tremere. The Regent before her, however, was to be an exception to that fact.
What could be said of the fight that ensued? The thoughts that she committed to memory would suggest that it was a one-sided fight, but even she would admit that it wasn't the case. Both she, and the Regent she fought, had tricks they could call upon, and at that moment, to hold them back would mean final death. The reason for it all, lay on the simple pretext of her wish to make deathly sure that the Regent never laid his hands on either her, or Alex – whether it would be indirect or not. For the Regent, his reasons to dislike her, if not completely hate her, were just as simple. He knew, somehow, of her involvement with the Order, as well as the magic she had learned from the few Tremere, who in his words, 'should've held their tongues'.
As was her want, she found herself standing over the Regent, her sword held to his neck. From the various wounds on his body, his blood spilled, staining his clothing, and causing her to snarl like a beast. Looking into his eyes, she tamed his mind, making the possibly of him moving against her, quite impossible. Throwing his body to the ground, she used her claws to rip the clothing off his torso, and tore into his neck with her fangs. His blood was...quite different from the various kinds of human blood she had sampled, but with it, was the notion that some of his power would be hers – though she would not kill him in such a way.
Upon removing her fangs, she could not help but raise her head to the sky, and feel the new blood coursing through her veins. Looking back at the Regent, she saw him in the throws of Frenzy – going past the insanity, even deeper into it. When he moved to attack her, she made a quick slice through the air, which stopped him. Within a few seconds, his head fell backwards off his neck, and it, along with his body, fell to the ground. As with any Kindred, it burst into embers, before the ashes flew away in the night air. Sheathing her sword, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least, for now, she could. In a time, a storm would approach, but she would not stick around to feel the rain.
When the world entered into the new millennium, she knew that it would not stop. Even when she did it, she knew. But now, it was coming to close to home for her. In the ten years since she killed the Tremere, she and Alex had fought of countless of Vampires, some serving the Camarilla, others from independent clans, among others. For some time, she wondered if the crime would be only hers to answer for. The fact that she embraced Alex would be nothing to them, but as for them choosing to spare him, while she is carted of to face the dawn, or the blade, wasn't a chance she wanted to take. Rather, she would choose to subject herself, and unfortunately her progeny, to something that many Kindred fear, and those of the Camarilla, see as verboten.
To tell him of it, was almost impossible. To explain what he needed to do, and why. He acted in the way, she expected, though he did not object. In the basement of the Church, where they had been hiding, she slid the robe from her shoulder, exposing her shoulder, neck, and one of her breasts. Waving him over, she grasped him tight, as she did the same to him, knowing that this sacrifice was for his benefit, in more ways that he could imagine. Looking him in the eyes, one final time, she kissed his forehead, before presenting her neck to him. As she felt him bite her, she felt him consuming her vitae, finding that it was more pleasure than she'd even felt – yet there was no pain. Even as she felt weak, the pain did not come.
At least, not until the last of her vitae was drained. The very part that made it such a taboo – the consummation of a soul, bringing along with it great power, but with a cost. What cost he may have to pay, she did not know, if it would cost him something. But that pain was short, and what she felt then, was something that took her some time to understand, but she knew then, that it wasn't the end that she thought it was. It was something else, perhaps something that was rare, though she couldn't fully explain it. For now, at least, she could rest.
|Subject: Re: VtM: Pretty Requiem - Character Sheets || |
VtM: Pretty Requiem - Character Sheets