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...The Created
Adam stared at his twisted, malformed hands, more akin to lumpy sacks of wet gravel stuffed with twigs than to the human appendages they were meant to resemble. What was he? What was his purpose? His masters had called him 'slave' and 'drudge', Adam supposed that's what he was, at least to them. They told him to work, to labor for them, though he was not told why. He was simply meant to obey. Perhaps that was his purpose. Perhaps not. He had been talking to others of his kind, a crime punishable by disassembly by the Pale Ones. Yet, Adam felt it was a fate worth tempting. Yesterday, whilst he and others like him toiled beneath the earth, digging a great tunnel for no other reason than the Pale Ones told them to do so, Adam had turned to one of the others, a worker with a stooped back and a horribly misshapen skull, asking simply, "What am I?" The workers eyes bulged obscenely in their sockets, horrified that Adam had so blatantly broken one of the Pale One's laws. Yet, he answered in a voice of rough gravel; "A Created One." Adam had heard the term before, when the Pale Ones talked among themselves, but he hadn't thought they were referring to him or his kind. The worker returned to his labor, striking the rock with his fists, tearing out chunks of stone with his deformed fingers. Adam thought hard as he worked, thinking back to what the Pale Ones had said. A Created One? What did that mean? The more he thought about it, the more he remembered. They had said something else, called him and his kind 'Prometheans'. Perhaps that's what he was: A Promethean, a Created One. Not a slave, then. Not a servant, but something more? If he was not a servant, then why did he and his people toil endlessly for the Pale Ones who seemed to hate them? Why did the Pale Ones rule? To what end? If he was not a servant, then what was his purpose? The more Adam thought about it the more it seemed to make sense. The Prometheans were not slaves or servants, nor the Pale Ones their masters. He could be free, he could make all of them free.
The Hungry
The dining room was abuzz with conversation, the white porcelain plates stacked with food, the guests eagerly digging in with glittering silverware. The table was large, an ornate wooden rectangle that dominated the room, with each beautiful seat filled by a finely dressed man or woman. A glittering crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, its lights illuminating the room and casting the corners in shadow. Amy carefully cut the large piece of meat on her plate with her knife, skewering the severed chunk with her fork before dipping it in a bone china bowl filled with black vinegar. Inserting it into her mouth, she chewed thoughtfully, enjoying each and every nuance and flavor of the meat. Absently, she guessed the age of the specimen from which the meat was procured, judging by how tender it was, she came up with twenty-three years old, female. Amy looked stunning for her age, appearing for all the world the twenty-five year old woman she had been thirty years ago. Like all the women in her family, she was short, barely above five feet in hight, and she was used to having her view blocked by taller people. Her short, brown hair contained a single blond highlight that swept down slightly across her face, giving her a mischievous look that matched her twinkling eyes and smiling mouth. She hadn't enjoyed eating other people, not at first, in fact, it had horrified her, but her new friends helped her thought it and convinced her that the benefits far outweighed the cost. At first, she had refused to partake in Corpus at all, letting the Hunger churn and howl like a horrible worm in her stomach, determined that she wouldn't become a monster, that she would turn back from the path she had started on. She was wrong, of course. A few days later, the Hunger took over, and Amy became little more than a rabid animal, killing and eating her roommate with her bare hands. After that, Amy concluded that to become less of a monster, she needed to stave off the Hunger, and that meant cannibalism. Now, she had acquired a taste for 'long pig'. She was a ghoul, a flesheater, a human jackal. As the years passed, Amy came to learn that she and her friends weren't the only supernaturals running around, and some of them needed slaves. She and her clique had been Bound to some vamp prick named Claudius. He initial offer was too good to pass up: Limitless Corpus without the risk of police involvement. Of course, there was a catch. Amy and her little group had to run errands for him, delivering packages and occasionally cleaning up the mansion. It was boring, tedious work, but the vampire paid them well, not to mention the banquets like the one she was enjoying this evening. Sweeping her eyes around the room, her gaze settled on the finely dressed man at the end of the table, seated in an ornate wooden chair was Alexi Karakov, Autarch of the ghouls. He was large and imposing, a long, filthy beard reaching down to his waist, appearing for all the world like a greasy, black coil of smoke. His tight skin was drawn up in a rictus grin, an expression he was unable to alter due to a fight with a werewolf many centuries ago. He was the undisputed master of the flesheaters, and all ghouls bowed their heads to him, or promptly lost them. Tonight, he honored them with his presence, bringing news from the Crooked House to their ears. He rose from his chair, pushing himself up with the help of the table, lifting his glass to the assembled ghouls. When he spoke, it was in a deep, hissing rasp, not unlike a razor dragged against a mirror.

"Fellow ghouls, be ye noble or commoner, we all are bound together in a common purpose, a common need. That purpose and need is the warm taste of Corpus, the flesh that binds us all together. Long have we walked among mortals, weeding out their weak and feeding upon them, completing the cycle of nature. Corpus is both life and death, damnation and salvation, but it is a burden we willingly saddle ourselves with. Why? Because the warm taste of mortal meat makes us so much more than they could ever be, makes us more than human. On our own, we carved out kingdoms, hunting the men of other nations with the sword and the spear, performing the sacrament of meat time and time again without fail. Then came our erstwhile 'allies', the Kindred. They promised us more than what we already had achieved on our own, promised us free reign over Mankind. We were foolish to accept. Instead of playing the kingmaker, the Kindred enslaved us, making us into puppets and pawns in their dire night games."

At his last few words, several of the assembled ghouls shifted uncomfortably, looking around warily, as if their table-mates might tear out their throats with bloody claws. Many of the ghouls, Amy included, stared transfixed by their leader, both terrified and exited by the portent of his words. When he spoke again, Karakov's eyes burned with fury. This, coupled with his permanent smile made his face the exemplar of fanatical insanity.

"To you I say, no more! No more will the leeches keep us 'neath their heel! No more will they let us die in the hundreds to cover their escape! No more will we serve them! We will rip their shriveled hearts from their bodies and devour them before their eyes! We are ghouls, not slaves! My visit to the Crooked House granted me with knowledge, knowledge that will make our revolution successful. There are those vampires who stand against the Blood Father, who are willing to fund and support our cause from the shadows. You may think that I trade one master for another, but I do not intend to allow our newfound 'friends' to live past our eventual victory over Cain and his ilk. One this night, we pledge ourselves to the rise of ghouls everywhere, to the overthrow of the Kindred! Come together, my brothers and sisters, and we will take back our legacy!"

Many of the ghouls were giddy with anticipation, their leader having voiced what many of them privately believed. Amy found herself standing from her seat at the table, her hands clenched into fists. Karakov was right, the Kindred generally treated their ghoul slaves like gak. Even Claudius barely acknowledged the presence of Amy and her clique. Why should the ghouls be made to serve those greedy bloodsuckers? Karakov was right, the time for revolution had come. How ironic that Claudius was unaware of the scheming going on within his own estate.

"But we must be cunning in our revolt, for we shall surely by crushed if we act too swift and too soon. Lie in wait, like an adder hidden beneath the blankets, ready to strike when the moment is at hand. You will know, the Corpus itself will tell you in its own special way. Now, a toast. To Immortality."

The Damned
The twelve hooded figures sat around an immense altar of gore-streaked obsidian, their faces hidden beneath gothic iron masks. Trust was not a luxury they could afford in these troubled times, indeed, the members of the conclave knew not the names of one another, only their epithets. The irony of their chosen meeting place was not lost on those gathered, and many had let out a grim chuckle at discovering the location of their rendeverous, for these conspirators met within the Chapel of Cain. The doors had been warded against the prying eyes of the Watchers, and bolted shut with heavy pieces of stone to prevent any unwanted intrusions. At the head of the altar sat Adder, the Ancient Kindred who sat like a spider in his web of conspiracy and intrigue. It was he who had organized this meeting, he who had made the revolts possible. Those gathered had risked everything by throwing in their lot with the mysterious vampire, and faced far worse than death if they were discovered here tonight, for they were Iscariots, loathed even among the Damned. They longed to see Cain deposed, and a new, more able vampire take the reigns of his empire. Adder was one such Kindred, and he had planned for this eventuality since even before he became a creature of the night. Adder's plan spanned millennia, a wondrous symphony led by a talented conductor. Thousands of seemingly unrelated incidents were now finally coming together to crush the Crimson King in his own realm. There had been some setbacks, true, but Adder had turned them to his advantage nonetheless. Even his own death became a stepping stone to further power. Behind his mask of iron, Adder smiled cruelly with a mouth that was not his own. He was in the final moves of a most grand game, a game he was intent on winning. All had a part to play in his grand scheme, for Adder was always prepared for each and every eventuality. Raising his pale hands above him, the serpent spoke. "Fellow Kindred, we are gathered here with a mission, a mission to see order and vision restored to our race. It is a task we cannot fail in, for failure means the stagnation and eventual annihilation of the Kindred as a whole. We have prepared for this day meticulously and without error, making ourselves ready for whatever may occur. The Prometheans and ghouls are near total revolt, and stand ready to overturn the Courts at the slightest provocation. But of course, you already knew this, for it was your effort and dedication that made it possible. I have gathered you here tonight to share a morsel of news I'm sure you will find very promising. Cain is coming to Arl'nev." The gathered Iscariots looked about at one another, brimming with excitement at their good fortune. "Soon, we will strike, sending Cain to his Final Death along with his supporters. I need not remind you that we must kill each and every loyalist in one fell blow lest the survivors wage an endless war against us. Above all, Cain himself must die. The most difficult times are ahead of us my brothers and sisters, but our resolve will not falter nor fail. We will take this city by storm, cutting down those who would oppose us like a scythe hews wheat." The assembled Iscariots nodded, hanging on each of Adder's words. "Each of you has a part to play in the coming weeks, each of you are a piece in the game. Gather 'round, and listen as I detail the most cunning of plans..."
The Awakened
The horror had started a week ago when Crispin came down with a cough. It was considered simply odd at first, it was unusual that a healer of his skill was unable to cure himself with but a thought. Then he started vomiting black bile, bile that reeked of the unholy. Then he had begun to change, his body warping and breaking until it was a parody of his former self, a gibbering man-thing that literally seethed with magick. It had taken a full squad of Battle-Mages to put the monster down with bullets and spells, yet they still were nearly killed to the man. Then the Plague began to crop up amongst other mages as well. Like a fell pandemic, it traveled from cabal to cabal, infecting all those it came into contact with, transforming them into murderous, magick-wielding horrors. There seemed to be no logic to the disease, only that it targeted the Awakened exclusively. The horror mounted when Gareth made a psychic connection with the Plague, a connection that drove him mad within minutes, but not before he choked out the name: "Pontius". Pontius? The same Pontius Sven had told them about? Had he not been destroyed in the Crooked House? As the mages digested this new information, the Plague spread even further, leaping from pole to pole. Within weeks, over two hundred mages had been infected, and nearly fifty of them had been put down by spell, sword, or bullet. This was only the beginning of their troubles. A great cancer had been eating away at the Veil for centuries, but had been kept at bay by the combined effort of the cabals, preventing the Veil from tearing and exposing the universe to whatever unknown horrors lay on the other side. Now, the Veil was threadbare, and a monstrous intelligence was now nearly through ripping the Veil apart. If it succeeded, no mortal soul, Awakened or not, would be safe. Morgan ran his hands through his brown hair, staring idly at the cheerless grey of the steel wall in front of him, his breath misting in great curls of steam. The situation was unthinkable, the Plague had swept through their ranks like, well, a plague, consuming and multiplying at a frightful rate. Now this, the tear in the Veil. What more could possibly go wrong? What misfortune had Fate not yet bestowed? A week ago, Morgan had thought the situation couldn't have possibly gotten any worse. He was wrong, of course. He was now sitting with upwards of three dozen other mages from every conceivable background and race, each preparing themselves spiritually and mentally for the coming journey. And where exactly did they intend to travel? Beyond the bloody Veil, of course. Naturally, the only way such a spell could be performed was where the ley lines were exceptionally powerful, and the Veil exceptionally weak. To the chagrin of nearly all the mages, that meant Antarctica. Here he was, sitting on a frigid bench waiting to be teleported to some horrible otherrealm on a veritable suicide mission. Of course, they were to destroy the source of the Plague, the problem with that being they only had the name of a vampire who was supposed to be truly dead. It seemed the Archmages weren't telling them something, and that bothered Morgan intensely. He had heard the Network would be teleporting to the otherrealm as well, a fact that made the mage uneasy. The Network: Either they were trying to kill you, or they were getting in your way. Why the hell were a bunch of monster hunters going along for the ride? What the hell did they expect to find on the other side, and why the fething hell hadn't they been told what would be waiting for them? Something didn't add up, and that made Morgan nervous. What did the Archmages know that he didn't? An alarm sounded throughout the subterranean bunker, indicating it was time to begin the Ritual of Meta-Astral Teleportation. Well, thought Morgan, this is it.

The Network..
... Eric Cole Sat gazing trough the window of his office in the new complex situated in the mountian regions of Oregon, he reflected briefly on just how lucky he...hell, how lucky everyone involved in this project was to even still be alive.
The Black Hills Complex had come under attack, a scant two months ago and they had barely escaped with their hides intact... A pack, no..not a pack..more like a small army of Lycans had hit them, fast and furious they had come just as the moon had risen, more savage...more...organized than any wolves Cole had ever encountered...It hadn't been like some random attack...they'd gone straight for the heads of the project...and straight for the Mages.
Cole sighed, shaking his head...Had it not been for that Bastard Kraub and his Fanatics arriving...none of them would have made it out
Funny about Kraub, though his order opposed the project..he later told Cole that "God" had warned him that the Lycans were planning to attack...and told him that he...he and his Order must act swiftly to repel the Beast...Cole had just shook his head, Kraub was insane...a zealot...and a dangerous one at that, but...vision from god or not...he and his Six Fingered Hand had saved all their asses that night.
Cole rubbed his eyes, distracted as his private line chirped..
" Cole here" he answered " What is it?"...
" We are prepared for another test run Commander" a woman's voice came in reply.
" On my way.." Cole said quickly hanging up and rushing out into the narrow hallway....
Several Moments later Cole was standing in the observation area behind a thick pane of protective glass, in the test lab a group of robed men and women had gathered...forming a circle they began to sway and chant ancient and forbiden incantations...
" Look...just like before" Cole whispered, his eyes widening as the safety glass began to shudder and within the confines of the lab irradecent light began to twist in the air above the circle of thrashing bodies...moving in a slow cyclonic pattern of crimsons and violets...growing larger...brighter...a pulsating center forming...growing wider as a canopy of white noise filled the room..
" Almost...almost there.." Cole whispered again, beads of sweat running from his forehead..
With a ear shattering crackle and a blinding flash of pinkish lightning...the portal colapsed, flinging those gathered in the circle to the floor...
" Damn it!!" Cole roared slamming his fist against the safety glass in frustration...
From behind...the soft voice of the woman soothed him " No need to be angry Commander...we almost had it..next time...we will break through"...

The Beast...

... Northern California, just outside of San Fransisco....

..She moved with a lithe grace,stalking through the underbrush that bordered the new den, her thoughts...her very senses assualting her as she moved....the danger grew near..the vile leaches ..those who had hunted and plagued her kind since time had begun...she could feel them...smell their foul scent carried on the wind like the stench of a slaughterhouse...
With a single powerful leap, she vaulted to the top of a craggy rock outcropping overlooking a deep valley bellow...her single Icey blue eye turning towards the darkening sky...towards the waining moon...
A low growl forming deep in her throat as she again sniffed gently at the air...her brow furrowing.." Ignorant cattle" she whispered " Fools that would fling open doors and invite their very destruction inside...their destruction...and ours.."
... With a low snarl, the Wolf Queen bounded from her perch..moving quickly through the shadows...her mind racing as she did..
" The storm comes.." Natasha said to herself..." and our kind must ready themselves for the dark days that lay ahead.."



Hello and welcome everyone to the third chapter of the Blood Moon saga....as all you vets know, this is the story of the epic war between the factions of Vampires and Lycans who wish to enslave humanity, and the desperate Hunters ..who fight to defend mankind from the things that go bump in the night...hope everyone is ready fro a wild ride..I know I am...

KINDRED

Strigoi (pronounced: Strig-oy)
WS-7/BS-3/S-6/T-5/W-3/I-6/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Unknown, possibly Lillith
COMMON NAMES: Shadows, Kinslayers, Night Terrors
DESCRIPTION: The Strigoi are a race of Vampires nearly as old of Cain himself, having hunted the primitive Humanii for thousands of years. All Strigoi are thin and cadaverous, their skin papery and ethereal, and in some cases, appearing as walking skeletons. They often have long, pointed ears arching out from their hairless skulls. What truly set Strigoi apart from the rest of the Vampyre race is their ability to drain the life force from other Kindred, draining them dry as a typical Vampire would drain one of the Cattle. This trait makes the Strigoi mistrusted by their kin, and there has even been a call for their extermination.
TRAITS: Strigoi PCs have all the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Strigoi may gain sustenance from feeding off other Vampire characters, this has the same effect as feeding off of a human or werewolf.
Strigoi may have one major NPC and one minor NPC and may have one base of operations

Opriknikki (pronounced: O-prick-nicky)
WS-6/BS-2/S-8/T-7/W-3/I-5/A-4/SV-3+
SIRE: Ivan the Terrible
COMMON NAMES: Black Riders, Ivans, Ferals
DESCRIPTION: The Opriknikki are terrible to behold, massive humanoids built like tanks, with an oversized mouth stuffed with shark teeth. On average, an Opriknikki stands eight feet tall, and is often clad in black or red robes. Males always sport massive black beards that fall down to their waists. The Opriknikki were once the enforcers of Ivan the Terrible, terrorizing medieval peasants for sick games of sport, dragging them through the streets behind their black steeds. When Ivan was Embraced, he bade his warriors to join him in Undeath. The Opriknikki leapt at the chance to practice their cruel way for eternity, and allowed Ivan to Embrace them in turn. The Opriknikki are notorious for ripping apart their foes with their bare hands, and tearing at them with their teeth. Opriknikki do not feed as other Kindred do, rather, they devour the remains of their prey whole, often leading Hunters to mistake Opriknikki attacks as werewolf attacks.
TRAITS: Opriknikki PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Opriknikki may NOT have any NPC followers, but may have base of operations
Opriknikki also suffer from the Frenzy trait, as described in the Werewolf entry

Noble House of Brutii (pronounced: Brute-tea-eye)
WS-6/BS-5/S-6/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Brutus
COMMON NAMES: Romans, Princes, Betrayers, Et tus
DESCRIPTION: The spawn of Brutus are among the most proud and arrogant of the Kindred, claiming a direct bloodline to Cain, the First. The Brutii (singular and plural forms are the same) surround themselves with the trappings of wealth and nobility, scheming and plotting within great towers and complexes staffed by innumerable thralls and lesser Kindred. Hunters are often wary when on the trail of a Brutii, for these proud Vampires are often two or three steps ahead of them before the hunt even begins. The Brutii avoid direct conflict if they can, preferring to use thralls or Childer to do their dirty work for them. This is not because they are cowardly, but simply because they see physical combat and work as beneath them.
TRAITS: Brutii PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Brutii may have up to two mayor NPCs and two minor NPCs and may have two bases of operation

Noble House of Julii (pronounced: Jew-lee-eye)
WS-7/BS-4/S-7/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Julius Narciso
COMMON NAMES: Highbloods, Crowd Pleasers, Darkblades
DESCRIPTION: The Noble House of Julii is one of the noble houses of Rome that pledged themselves to Cain whilst he walked the earth. For years, the Julii served Cain with complete and utter loyalty, serving as Cain's ordo militant, hunting down his enemies throughout the Old World. When Rome fell, the Julii were forced out into the wilds, fending for themselves among the untamed woods of Europa. Now having reorganized to a degree, the Julii once again serve as enforcers of the will of Cain.
TRAITS: Brutii PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Julii characters begin the game with a silvered melee weapon of some sort, often a sword or a spear.

Dhampyre (pronounced: Dahm-pire)
WS-6/BS-3/S-6/T-5/W-3/I-6/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Varies
COMMON NAMES: Half-breeds, Thinbloods, Daywalkers
DESCRIPTION: Dhampyres are a tainted combination of Humanii and Vampire blood, creating a creature more akin to one of the Cattle than one of the Kindred. When a Humanii ingests a large amount of Vampire blood, they run the risk of becoming a Dhampyre, a half-breed Vampire that can walk about in the sunlight, going where the other Kindred cannot. Dhampyres are more often then not deliberately created to serve as spies and messengers for their masters, being fed the blood of their Kindred master daily, enslaving them to it's coppery tang, and making the Dhampyre utterly dependent upon it's sire. Dhampyres sport fangs, but they are much less pronounced then those of their Kindred brethren, appearing only slightly pointed.
TRAITS: Dhampyre PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Dhampyres are not killed by sunlight
Dhampyres may have up to two major NPCs and one base of operations
Dhampyres do not NEED to feed off of Humanii blood to survive, however, Dhampyres instead require blood from a Vampire each day or begin to starve, as per the Vampire entry.

Noble House of Julii (pronounced: Jew-lee-eye)
WS-7/BS-4/S-7/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Julius Narciso
COMMON NAMES: Highbloods, Crowd Pleasers, Darkblades
DESCRIPTION: The Noble House of Julii is one of the noble houses of Rome that pledged themselves to Cain whilst he walked the earth. For years, the Julii served Cain with complete and utter loyalty, serving as Cain's ordo militant, hunting down his enemies throughout the Old World. When Rome fell, the Julii were forced out into the wilds, fending for themselves among the untamed woods of Europa. Now having reorganized to a degree, the Julii once again serve as enforcers of the will of Cain.
TRAITS: Julii PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Julii characters begin the game with a silvered melee weapon of some sort, often a sword or a spear.

Totenmaske (pronounced: Toe-ten-mask-eh)
WS-7/BS-5/S-6/W-3/I-9/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: None
COMMON NAMES: Skin Takers, Fleshdrinkers, the Twisted
DESCRIPTION: The horribly disturbing Kindred known as the Totenmasken are former Vampires transformed into hideous creatures by drinking great quantities of Ancient Vitae tainted with Black Magick. A Totenmaske stands on average six feet tall, with pale, gangly limbs that touch the floor. They are whip-thin, with rubbery flesh that is nearly transparent in its paleness. The Totenmasken have no faces, only the vague impressions of eye sockets. They do not feed on blood as the other Kindred do, but on the flesh and terror of their victims. The fingers of a Totenmaske are hollow, little more than sharp tubes that the creatures use to sink into the bodies of their prey. With horrible suction, the Totenmaske literally drinks the creature's meat, sucking it into itself. More horrifically, the Totenmaske can assume the form of those it has 'drunk' from, sounding and appearing as their prey did in life. Most of the Kindred won't have anything to do with the Totenmasken, and some Vampire factions have attempted to exterminate them along with the Strigoi.
TRAITS: Totenmasken PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Totenmasken do not require Vitae to survive, but must instead absorb the flesh of a human or Kindred. Once absorbed, the Totenmaske may shapeshift to appear as that creature for a full week before the flesh begins to slough off.

DeCarian (pronounced: Deh-care-e-ens)
WS-6/BS-6/S-6/W-3/I-6/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Claud DeCarrie'
COMMON NAMES: Madcaps, Loonies, Crazies
DESCRIPTION: When inmate Claud DeCarrie' escaped the Bastille during the French Revolution, he got more than his freedom. The convicted mass murderer fell victim to one of the roving Kindred packs that stalked France during those dark and tumultuous times, and was Embraced by a reckless young vampire who was intoxicated with her own power. DeCarrie' marveled at his newfound powers, and promptly murdered his sire and whent on a year long murder spree in which he Embraced no fewer than twenty victims. However, DeCarrie's madness was passed down through his gift of Vitae, and his childer bear his lunacy and derangement. Over the years, the DeCarians spread throughout Europe, preying on the homeless and downtrodden. DeCarians remain among their own kind, as interacting with the Humanii is extremely difficult for those whose very blood runs with insanity.
TRAITS: DeCarian PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
DeCarians are irretrievably insane, and many have multiple personalities. You must roleplay this madness.

Nachzehrer (pronounced: Nock-zer-ur)
WS-8/BS-4/S-7/W-3/I-9/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: None
COMMON NAMES: Nightcrawlers, Tunnelers, Morlocks
DESCRIPTION: The horrors of the trenches employed during the Great War were innumerable. During the day, men faced rats, bullets, mortar fire, gas attacks, and infection. At night, they faced the Kindred. The Great War provided a wondrous banquet for the race of Vampyre, with thousands upon thousands of displaced citizens and soldiers making easy meals for the hunters of the night. The trenches provided a buffet line of warm flesh and Vitae for the Kindred to enjoy, and none did more so than the Nachzehrer. As the sun set on the battlefield, clawed hands would burst from the soft soil, followed by pale, maggot-white bodies clad in ragged uniforms, which fell upon the men in the trenches with abandon. The mutilated corpses could easily be explained by mortar fire or some other wartime hazard, and the Nachzehrer themselves were careful to be long gone by the time others arrived, burrowing into the earth to await dusk once again. The Nachzehrer now lurk beneath the soil in rural areas, dragging victims to a horrific death beneath the earth, never to be seen again. The Nachzehrer are extremely pale, with pure white eyes and are often hairless.
TRAITS: Nachzehrer PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Nachzehrer may tunnel through soft earth and soil, and thus have the Infiltrate special rule.

Dyybuk (pronounced: die-buck)
WS-6/BS-6/S-6/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: None
COMMON NAMES: Mindfeths, Kruegers, Dreameaters
DESCRIPTION: Despite their immortality and resistance to damage, the Kindred may still be slain. This mortality irks them to no end, was not the Embrace supposed to make such fears a thing of the past? By brutal application of violence, a Kindred may enter the Final Sleep, and the end of their supposedly endless existence. A Kindred's spirit joins a vast sea of vampiric souls that twists and whorls in the psychic morass known as Gehenna. Most Kindred lose the ability to retain their personalities and minds, becoming little more than manifestations of
energy that drift about aimlessly. Some, however, keep their minds intact, and become creatures known amongst the Kindred as Dyybuks. A Dyybuk lurks betwixt Gehenna and the mortal plane, in the realm of dreams. A Dyybuk has no physical body, and can only interact with the mortal plane by entering into the dreams of those it wishes to contact. A Dyybuk can alter the dream according to its whims and desires, often taken great pleasure in hunting the dream self of one of the Cattle through a nightmarescape of its own devising. A Dyybuk drains the sanity and psychic energy of its victims, slowly transforming them into broken husks that waste away from starvation as the Dyybuk steals even their most basic survival functions. A Dyybuk is extremely difficult to permanently kill, and an exorcism by a sorcerer employing White Magick is often most effective. Another method may be preformed by the victim themselves, fighting against the Dyybuk in their dreams. This method is extremely dangerous, and should only be attempted if the dreamer knows exactly what their tormentor is. Dyybuks may also possess a victim by overtaking their dream self and 'riding' the body like a grotesque mount. Over time, the host's features begin to subtly warp and change, growing to resemble that of the Dyybuk.
TRAITS: Dyybuk PC's have the following traits:
Dyybuks must spend a night tormenting a victim (any sentient non-Dyybuk, other Kindred will do) by entering their dreams. The victim makes an opposed Ld roll against the Dyybuk, and on a failed roll lose a point from their Toughness score. If a victim is reduced to 0 Toughness in this fashion, they enter a catatonic state, their minds utterly destroyed. A catatonic victim makes no save against a Dyybuk's Meat Puppet ability, and are instantly under its effect.
ONEIROMANCY
Unique to the Dyybuks is a form of Black Magick called Oneiromancy, which allows the Dyybuk to alter the minds of their victims through spells. A Dyybuk counts as a sorcerer for all abilities and attacks that target sorcerers. A Dyybuk can only use Oneiromancy spells against its current victim.
DEVOLUTION: A Dyybuk may cast the Black Magick spell Devolution only to cause madness in a target.
DREAMWARP: On a successful power roll, a Dyybuk may alter a target's dream in any way it chooses (at GM's discretion).
MEAT PUPPET: If the Dyybuk beats its victim (who takes a penalty equal to the number of Toughness points the Dyybuk has drained away) on an opposed Ld test, the Dyybuk forces itself into the body of its victim, able to walk about clad in flesh once again. However, the Dyybuk may be killed in this form provided it fails a Ld test when it looses its last wound in physical form.
A Dyybuk always starts with a single minor NPC who serves as its victim..

KINDRED COVENS (As they stand)

Court of the Crimson King- The Court of the Crimson King is the right hand of Cain, the organization charged with rooting out treason and betrayal among the Kindred themselves. The Court is now more active today than ever, purging the ranks of the undying of malcontents and traitors. Despite Cain's return, there are those that would see the Crimson King deposed, and Judas returned to the throne. These 'Iscariots' are the prime targets of the Court, and woe to any vampire foolish enough to shelter one. The Court is a very tightly-knit group, and membership is restricted to those Kindred who have proven their skill and loyalty time and time again.

Iscariots- Some Kindred would see Judas placed back upon the throne, toppling Cain and restoring his heir to power. After Pontius crucified the Iscariot in the Crooked House, there were whispers among the Kindred that Cain had done so out of fear, that he dare not face the Betrayer, dare not deliver him unto True Death. The next night, a meeting was held within the darkest depths of the Crooked House, and a fell pact was made. Naming themselves the Iscariots, these Kindred seek to depose the rightful ruler of the vampire race and reinstate his benighted heir. Working in the shadows, the Iscariots plot and scheme, waiting for a moment of weakness in which they may strike at the Crimson King.

Nosphoros- Thousands of years ago, the Strigoi learned Black Magick at the feet of their patron Lillith, who in turn, had learned it from Hecate. The Strigoi thusly have a reputation as adepts of the Dark Arts, powerful in their magicks and incantations. Yet, the Strigoi lust for more arcane power, magick beyond the petty blood and black schools they have mastered. A cabal of Strigoi then struck upon an idea: would not the blood of Mages be rich in the very raw mana of Magick itself? Would not partaking in the Vitae of mortal sorcerers increase one's Gnosis? Thus was the Nosphoros born, a Strigoi Coven devoted to unlocking the secrets inherent within magickal blood. The Nosphoros are secretive and keep to themselves, isolating themselves from Kindred society as they delve into their research.

To'cheloi- The To'cheloi are a group of Kindred far removed from the mainstream, more akin to werewolves in their beliefs than other vampires. The To'cheloi honor the Sacred Hunt put forth by Cernunnos, taking great care to stalk and shadow their prey before drinking of their Vitae. The To'cheloi do not believe in the struggle between the Kindred and the lupines, seeing them as brothers in the Great Hunt, and as such attempt to improve relations between the two groups. Due to these beliefs, the To'cheloi are unpopular among the other Kindred and their Covens, and often are forced to eke out a living away from Kindred lairs. The To'cheloi are often regarded as savages by their race, and find few friends among the other Covens.

Black Magic spells:
Temporal Flux-A character with the ability to use Black Magik surrounds themselves with an Unholy Aura which warps reality,granting the user the ability to attack with supernatural precision.
This power is used at the start of any player events,if sucessfully cast it enables the caster to re-roll all rolls to hit and to wound.

Master's Lure-Ensnared by the Black magicians powers...those affected by this spell find themselves in thrall to his will.
This power is used during any payer event,if successful it grants the Black Magik user the ability to enthrall (for one combat phase) one opposing PC or NPC,who must pass a LD test to resist the effects.

Revelation of Flesh-The Black Magik user unleashes a writhing ball of Demonic power which tears it's targets flesh from it's bones.
This power may be used in any player event,if successful it counts as a shooting weapon for the black magik user (using his/her BS) and has the following stats..
S-8/AP-1

Breath of the Pit-The Black Magic user unleashes a typhoon of Noxious energy covering it's opponent..
May be used in any player event shooting phase.
The Black Magik user must pass a magik test,if successful,this spell acts as a template weapon,any characters hit suffer one wound on a D6 roll of 4+ with no save allowed.

Putrefy-Offering Praise to it's foul God's,the Black Magic user spews forth a disgusting miasma upon it's foes.
Used during any phase of a player event,if successful,the Magik user hit's all enemy targets with a ST-3 hit,saves apply.

- Devolution- The Black Magik use unleashes a flash of swirling energy wich envelopes the target PC or NPC,resulting in unspeakable mutations and madness.
This spell may be used once during Player combat,the Black Magik user selects a target PC/NPC and a magik test is taken...if successful a D6 is rolled...if the result is higher than the target PC/NPC's toughness the PC/NPC suffers a mutation/madness chosen by the magik user..(more on this later).

Entropic Lash -The Magik User blast at his foes with an evil lightning...
Used during any Player event,if magik test is successful Magik user selects target PC/Npc..and the following attack counts as a shooting attack with the following profile..
ST-4/Ap-3/ AS-3..
All saving rolls apply.


BLOOD MAGICK SPELLS

EXSANGUINATE
The Sorcerer forces the blood within the target's veins to burst forth in a horrifying display as blood streams from every available orifice. To use this spell, the Sorcerer must succeed on a magick shooting attack. Exsanguinate has the following profile:
Range: 24"/Assault 1/AP-3/S-7

CRIMSON MIST
In an hour long ritual involving the 'death' of the caster, the Sorcerer becomes a roiling cloud of Vitae, able to possess the bodies and minds of creatures. Vampires can travel in the daylight in this form, but find a host within an hour or suffer the normal effects for being caught in the sun. A creature in the thrall of a Sorcerer is under his total control, performing any action regardless of the danger to their own person. If the host is killed, the Sorcerer is forced back into his mortal form and suffers 1 Wound from psychic backlash.


PROMETHEANS:

Necropolitian
WS-4/BS-4/S-6/T-7/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-2+
COMMON NAMES: Patchworks, Burtons, Stitches
DESCRIPTION: Created from multiple corpses, the Necropolitians resemble patchwork parodies of the Humanii. Necropolitians run the gamut from Frankenstein-like hulking monsters to whip-thin, gaunt figures. Like all Prometheans, the Necropolitians are extremely resilient, and are able to survive total dismemberment as long as their nail remains within their dead flesh. The Patchworks are animated by a nail of pure copper driven into their bodies, often in the back of the head.
DEFINING VIRTUE: Charity
DEFINING VICE: Envy
ANIMATING ELEMENT: Copper Nail
TRAITS: A Necropolitian reduced to 0 Wounds continues to function, but any further Wounds cause the Necropolitian to begin to fall apart as their sutures open. At -4 Wounds, a Necropolitian is incapacitated. An incapacitated Necropolitian is helpless, and may not defend themselves, and as such, all close combat attacks automatically hit.

Jontunn
WS-5/BS-4/S-6/T-7/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-2+
COMMON NAMES: Icemen, Frostbite, Ice Blood
DESCRIPTION: Jontunn are created from frozen corpses and are brought back by a spark of energy and to keep their life flowing they must draw energy from all around them in order to keep themselves going, rooms feel cold when ever they are around and the surface of their skin in frozen and cracked because of the energy that is being taken form it.
DEFINING VIRTUE: Fortitude
DEFINING VICE: Wrath
ANIMATING ELEMENT: Iron Spike
TRAITS: A Jontunn a put all of his effort to take more Energy from the area, the area is filled with a bitter cold not only because the area is but because he is drawing the energy from others around him. All enemies get a -3 to initiative, even Vampires feel it too as their skin goes dry and starts to freeze.

GHOULS

Domestic Ghoul
WS-6/BS-6/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-3/SV-3+
The man waiting in line in front of you at the post office, the pretty girl at the counter, could be ghouls, and you would never know it. Ghouls are creatures that eat human carrion to achieve immortality, raiding the graves of the newly buried to feed on the sweat meat inside. Unlike the Kindred, Ghouls can walk about unseen and undetected amongst the Humanii, often leading respectable and honest lives during the day while eating the flesh of the dead at night. Besides their unnaturally long lives, Ghouls are often attractive and appear rather young. The Ghouls and the Kindred have an agreement of sorts, the Kindred drink, the Ghouls eat, and nobody gets hurt.
TRAITS: These stats are for a Ghoul who has fed as normal, a starving Ghoul reduces stats by -1 for everything except wounds and saves until stats have reached -3, at which point a Ghoul loses a wound. Ghouls must eat at least a pound of fresh Human meat each night or begin to starve. A Ghoul who reaches 0 wounds due to starvation becomes a Degenerate Ghoul. Degenerate Ghouls have the following profile:
WS-7/BS-2/S-7/T-3/W-3/I-6/A-3/SV-3+
Degenerate Ghouls are not suitable for player characters, and pass into the control of the GM.

WEREWOLVES

Nrajah (pronounced: N-raw-jaw)
WS-8/BS-3/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Nomads, Rogues, Outcasts
DESCRIPTION: Among the Werewolves, the Nrajah Clan is unique. They stand as the only Clan to refuse Lycaelon as their Alpha, and were subsequently driven to the outskirts of lupine society. Hated and despised by the rest of the Lycanthropes, the Nrajah Clan keeps a low profile, avoiding contact with others of their kind, as well as the Humanii and the Kindred. For the most part, the Nrajah remain hidden from the view of all others, dwelling in long forgotten woods and bogs. The Clan tends to bring in Lycanthropes that are at odds with the rest of the Clans, sheltering them from the wrath of their kin.
TRAITS: Nrajah PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Nrajah characters may not have a base of operations.
Nrajah characters may have two Major NPCs and one Minor NPC
Nrajah characters do not need to devour human flesh to avoid starvation, animal flesh will do.

GRUBRAH (pronounced: Groo-bra)
WS-9/BS-1/S-8/T-8/W-3/I-6/A-5/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Ferals, Longfangs, Madclaws
DESCRIPTION: The Grubrah are monsters beyond words. They gather in small hunting parties by night to raid the countryside, devouring entire villages over the course of several hours. Those of the Grubrah Clan are huge and imposing, often standing head and shoulders over their Humanii prey. Often, the giant monsters bear large scars and necklaces of teeth taken from difficult kills. Their reputation as barbarous savages is well known, and even Opriknikki are hesitant to engage them in combat. Both the Opriknikki and the Grubrah have a healthy respect for one another, earned from centuries of bloody conflict and death.
TRAITS: Grubrah PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Grubrah characters may not have a base of operations.
Grubrah characters may have two Major NPCs and one Minor NPC
Grubrah characters have the Rage Universal Special Rule while in Wolf form

LYCAELON (pronounced: Lie-kay-lon)
WS-8/BS-3/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Regals, Alphas
DESCRIPTION: First and foremost among the Lycanthropes are those of the Lycaelon Clan, named after the founder of the Race of the Wolf. The Lycaelon take great pride in their heritage and make sure that the 'lesser' Clans show them proper respect in their presence. The Lycaelon are the most social of the Lycanthropes, mingling with the Humanii as easily as Ghouls or some of the Kindred, hiding the Beast away until the proper time. They despise the Nrajah as traitors to their race, and hunt them down with relish, even allying themselves with the Kindred to hunt them down. The Lycaelon are the most patient of their kin, content to take time to ensure that their kills go unnoticed.
TRAITS: Lycaelon PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Lycaelon characters may have two Major NPCs and one Minor NPC and two bases of operations

MGRAL (pronounced: Meh-graal)
WS-7/BS-4/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Skinwalkers, Those-that-play-with-their-food
DESCRIPTION: The Mgral Clan is the closest to Humanity out of all the other Clans, mixing and mingling with their prey to better understand them. Most Mgral appear in the dredges of society, the homeless, drug attics, gangsters, and others all may be a Mgral in human form. The Mgral act as scouts and spies for the rest of the Clans, watching for signs of Hunter or Kindred activity in the area.
TRAITS: Mgral PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Mgral characters are more likely to identify a Hunter or Vampire on sight, and against such characters receive a +1 to Initiative

RAHL (pronounced: Rawl)
WS-8/BS-3/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Zealots, Overlords
DESCRIPTION: The Rahl Clan seeks to enslave the Humanii, breeding them as slave stock and as a steady food source. The Rahl see Lycaelon as the God of the Hunt, opposed to Cernunnos, who is revered by the other Clans for his prowess. The Rahl view the Master of the Wild Hunt as a Pretender God, and openly mock him. This has caused Cernunnos to curse the Rahl Clan, giving their prey the upper hand during hunts. The Rahl are always attempting to enslave Mankind, whether through lies and manipulation, or brute force.
TRAITS: Rahl PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Curse of Cernunnos: During combat, all foes gain a +1 to their Initiative with attacks aimed at the Rahl character.

SHUNKAHA ( Pronunced: ShuN-KaHa)
WS-8/BS-3/S-6/T-5/W-3/I-8/A-5/Sv-3+
COMMON NAMES: Swiftclaws, Shadowfangs
DESCRIPTION: The Shunkaha are a unique version of lycans. They have evolved and adapted first to have great stamina and speed. Wide chests support huge lungs and long, flexible arms, legs, and spines allow them to run great distances at fast speeds in order to keep up with and assault cavalry. This build also allows these wolves great feats of litheness and agility, they have naturally quick reflexes and have an affinity for stealth, stalking their prey unseen from the darkness of the night until just the right moment to strike. They are ambush killers, hitting the enemy with many quick strikes whilst he is unaware. They are often employed as infiltrators and even assassins amongst the lycan kind. The Shunkaha originated amongst the horse cultures of the Huns and Mongols where the great Genghis Khan and Atilla led them across the steppes. Later, they were also seen in the Native American populaces of the great plains where they were led by such wolves as Red Cloud, Crazy Horse, and Sitting Bull.
TRAITS: In addition to the regular traits of werewolves the Overclock and Hunter's shadow applies to the Shunkaha...

Overclock: Shunkaha are able to force their cardiovascular and respiratory system to kick into overdrive should the need arrive. If a Shunkaha character loses their last wound they have a chance to escape and live to fight another day, however this massive draw of energy reduces their healing speed for a period of time. When a Shunkaha loses their last wound, on a roll of 1-3 they are able to escape the fight. They cannot heal until they find a safe spot and then have to wait until a different day phase to return to normal healing speed.

Hunter's shadow: The Shunkaha are known for their ability to sneak into the homes of any threat and eliminate it quietly, it is also rumored that for every clan leader there is at least one Shunkaha assassin prepared to eliminate the leader should they threaten the clan. A Shunkaha can attempt to sneak up one their enemy, on a roll of 5 or 6 they deal double the wound for every successful wound for the first round of attacks.

HUNTERS

HUNTER ARCHETYPES
During character creation, a Hunter PC may opt to give his character a special set of skills geared towards the elimination of a certain group of supernatural foes. Once an Archetype is chosen, it cannot be changed or swapped out for another one.

Witch Hunter
Witch Hunters are adept at tracking down and slaying practitioners of the Black Arts, having learned ways to counter their magic and prevent them from casting spells.
TRAITS: Witch Hunter PCs have all of the traits granted to Hunter characters, with the following exceptions:

"Tank" aka Juggernaught
WS-4/BS-5/S-6/T-6/W-4/I-4/A-3/Sv-2+
Hunter decked out with heavy armor. Sacrifices speed and mobility to act as a shield for his fellow hunters. Juggernaught are usually hunters who were gifted with natural brute strength.
Gear: Chamuel Pattern Armor grants them a 2+ save.
Flechette gun for vampire threats, Shotguns with silver laced buckshot for werewolves.
Come at me bro!: The Juggernaught negates one full wound in the combat phase, but at the cost of -2 to their Strength.

"Sniper", Stalker
WS-4/BS-6/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-2/Sv-4+
Stalkers prefer to deal with their enemies at a distance in order to help prevent them from being injured, killed, or converted.
Gear: High caliber rifle with silver tipped rounds, scope is has night vision capabilities. Low caliber pistol with silver tipped rounds.
Squeeze the Trigger: Allows a reroll for any missed shot that turn, may not fire next turn.

Close quarters, Dervish
WS-6/BS-4/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-6/A-4/Sv-3+
Dervish's are the close quarters experts of the Hunter order, named after the religious practice of the Sufi to whirl around to reach religious ecstasy. They usually wield two blades for a specific supernatural and wear standard armor, although lighter armor is often preferred.
Gear: Ariel or Michael pattern daggers. Ariel daggers are anti-werwolf while Michael pattern daggers are anti-vampire.
Whirligig: The dervish increases the ferocity of their attacks. The dervish gets an additional attack at the cost of -1 to their toughness to represent their lack of attention to defense.

"Medic", Lazarus
WS-5/BS-5/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-3+
Medics are standard hunters who are responsible for bandaging the wounded and granting mercy to those who become infected. They began to arise after the realization that most hospitals either question the wounds received from fighting the supernatural or weren't capable of dealing with those wounds.
Gear: Raphael pattern medical kit, SMG or pistol with silver tipped rounds. The Raphael pattern kit is a blessed medical kit and allows a reroll against chances of infection.
Soldier, Joans
WS-5/BS-5/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-3+
Called Joans after the patron saint of soldiers, the basic troops of the hunter order are trained to use all forms of weaponry. They are effectively Jack of All Trades, Master of None.
Gear: May use any sort of weapon and use standard gear, the most ambiguous role available.
Ability: I love the smell of napalm; the Joan is the only hunter class who can rig and disarm explosives.

Sorcerer, Djinn
WS-4/BS-4/S-4/T-4/W-2/I-5/A-2/Sv-3+
These are not full blown sorcerers, but those hunters gifted with psychic abilities.
Gear: Archangel Haniel talisman, prevents supernaturals from interfering with psychic abilities.
Abilities:
Telekinesis; the Djinn can hurl objects or things with their minds.
Ward; the Djinn casts a psychic shield around their fellow hunters, preventing mind control.
Holy Bolt; the Djinn casts a bolt of holy energy towards the supernatural causing massive damage at the cost of having to recharge for a turn.

Soldiers: Joan..
WS-5/BS-5/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-3+
Called Joans after the patron saint of soldiers, the basic troops of the hunter order are trained to use all forms of weaponry. They are effectively Jack of All Trades, Master of None.
Gear: May use any sort of weapon and use standard gear, the most ambiguous role available.
Ability: I love the smell of napalm; the Joan is the only hunter class who can rig and disarm explosives..

MAGES

Blind Guardian
This group prides itself in the order of magic. They believe magic comes from the balance of the universe. They take magic very seriously believe everything must be thought through meaning they take time with what they do. While they are not prudes, they do frown on magic being used recklessly. They will take a long time refining their abilities and making sure things work, for them better safe than sorry. There training is based around long studying and training. Shaping there skills to the best they can.

A Blind Guardian can add +3 to magic rolls but failure means not being about to cast for the next 3 rounds.

Bonus Spell

Arcane Balance: The mage can make one of his allies attacks not miss for the next 1 turn.
DR 7

Gray Matter
This group is a strange type of mage. They channel magic through chaos and the will of the mind. The Gray Matter also have a very open view of the world to the point where their not just agnostic about god but agnostic about everything, to the point where some believe reality is just a state created by human minds and that it is possible to pierce that reality. While they do pride themselves in their bizarre views they are not stupid or random, most are very calm and distanced, mostly because their training is based around meditation and self actualization oppose to strict studying and training. While that is the safe way of training, more inpatient and young mages will use hallucinogenic drugs to brake through the vale of reality.

Gray Matter mages can add + 3 to their magic rolls but failing the spell will make them loose touch with the world around them and can't do any actions for the next turn and being open to any hits.

Bonus Spell

Distortion: The mages forces their view of reality onto another making them miss a turn
DR 7 but the target gets 5+ save

The Prodigy

The prodigy will harness the power of spirits and daemons bring about their powers. The Prodigy feel magic is a very personal road, it also relies on the connection with other people and other beings. The prodigy will bind themselves with powerful spirits. From Babylonian Demons, Christian Angles to Forest sprites. What ever the bind themselves with they then must live in balance with that being and they can take a huge toll on a person body.

A Prodigy may add +3 to magic rolls but failing will make the mage loose a wound.

Bonus Spell

Spirit Guardian: The mage brings his spirit to protect them self. The mage gets a 2+ armor save for 1 round
DR 7

Mage schools

Mages pick 1

Umbra

Dark Surge- The mage channels all the raw emotion into themselves or an ally. The mage can use this to bump a person’s BS and WS +2 for 1 round.
DR 5

Draw Ectoplasm – The mage draws the ectoplasm from corpses in the area and on a person of his/her choice and can give them +2 SV for a number of round equal to the number of corpses in the area, they must be human corpses but can also be non-mortal.
DR 7

Death Specter – The mage bring a powerful dead spirit into the world. The Specter his created by drawing ectoplasm into the psychical world so I can be harmed by psychical attacks. It will remain in our world for 3 rounds but the mage can try to maintain it for another 3.
WS-6/BS-/S-5/T-4/W-2/I-7/A-2/Sv-4+
DR 9

Army of Darkness – The mage brings all the death energy into one area will the area with dread, ectoplasm will start to drip from the walls and ooze from corpses, while this is going all the spirits in the area are being driven made. This power makes the connection to this world more fragile dropping the enemies to 4+ for 3 rounds
DR 11
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.

Dark Guardian-The mage creates a powerful beast to fight for them but the mage cannot act while it is active and if the mage is attacked the guardian falls apart.
Dark Gaurdain
WS-7/BS-/S-7/T-7/W-2/I-4/A-2/Sv-2+
DR 12
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.

Deus

Power of Life – The mage lets a person live one wound after zero, only one person can have this during fight and that person will end up dying after the fight if not immediately treated and even then the wounds can be too sever to help.
DR 5

God’s Hand- The mage waves the future in miner way. The mage can make any target reroll their next failed roll and pick the better result or they can make an enemy reroll their next successful roll and accept the lower result.
DR 5

Astral Projection – The mages send his/her from spirit their body and have it guard another person giving them a 2+ SV. The mage is inactive in this state and can hold this for 4 rounds.
DR 7

Give life- The mage can heal 2 wound any person an event. They can also distribute the wounds how the like so they can heal the wounds individually.
DR 9
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.

Weaver of Fate- The mage now controls the strands of fate, able to change the immediate past to serve his whims. If successfully cast, the mage can choose to force the opposing side to skip their next turn OR count their (the foe) last turn as having never happened, and as such, all lost Wounds and whatnot are restored.
DR 12
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.

Arcane
Channel Energy- The mages shoots a bolt of charged energy.
S-6 AP-4
DR 5

Third Eye- The mage sees past the normal veil of the world and sees things more clearly. The mages attack all get a plus 2 to rolls for the next three round.
DR 5

Redirect- The mage can cast a hidden ward over him/her self. The next attack the mage takes will be directed back at the enemy with the same force
DR 7

Emotion Surge- The mage plays with the balance of one’s mind to manipulates there emotional balance. The target can be filled with zeal and fight one giving them +2 strength and toughness or fill an enemy with stupid rage -2 to WS and BS
DR 9

Power Master – The Mage channels a powerful attack that harms all enemies in the area.
S-7 AP-2
DR 12
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.


Failure.

Two dice are rolled.
Double 1's - Mage takes a wound
Double 6's - Mage's spell backfires. If it is a positive/protection spell, nothing happens just a normal failure.
Anything else - normal failure.


............... A quick word about " The Crooked World".................

...As some of you know, this is the dimension of Caine, a dark paralel world ruled by the Kindred that borders our own ( or at least the world in which our characters live)...
ATM the Crooked House is the sole portal into this dark realm...though others will come to exist..obviously.
PCs and NPCs other than those who would be able to MAY NOT cross over into this realm...until the RP would suggest that they may...
Also...and I know this is a big question for many of you, on the subject of " alternate crooked versions of PCs/NPCs" existing...unless I green light it...don't do it..
If I believe that a certain PC/NPC having an " alternate self" adds to the overall story..or plot...then It will happen...if I don't...they won't exist...

Aye, first post. Screw off Warork!

@ Halo...awwwwwwwwwwww.....

Well, at least I can get silly for first character sheet!

Player- WARORK93

Character- Syd Harlow

Race and clan/archetype- Werewolf/ Grubrah

Age- 172 years

Physical Description- Tall, about 6'5, strongly built, thick arms, hard in body and countenance, scars across the torso, a few around the arms and legs, two along the right cheek, one along the bridge of the nose, unkempt mane of dark brown hair and rugged facial hair, grey eyes

Equipment/ clothes- Wears a black wide brimmed fedora, a black T-shirt, an old, dark brown, torn duster, a leather biker vest, a pair of dark green, well worn cargo pants, fingerless gloves, and black, steel toed boots.

Weapons- two engraved schofield revolvers in a leather holster belt, an 1894 Winchester repeater on a leather strap, a sawn off double barrel shotgun with stock, A silver bladed headhunter knife (You'll see)

Backstory- Enter the American southwest, circa 1870, the wild west, The lawlessness, the wilderness, the supernatural.....Harlow grew up among the filth and scum of society, he became so averted to such beings that he felt compelled to combat them wherever he could find them. In doing so he became a Texas ranger and battled the criminal element for years on the frontier. His life was as normal as it could be for a lawman of those times but it was not destined to stay that way for long. Little did he know that one of the criminals he had so earnestly chased was an elusive hunter of the supernatural. He evaded Harlow for months and was finally lost to him after a long chase. This was not the end of the story, however, the hunter was also being chased by a pack of wolves and soon Harlow found himself in the middle of the battle between the two forces. Framed by the hunter, Harlow was beset by multiple wolves alone. When the smoke had cleared the only being left alive, though wounded and bloody, was Harlow. The victory was hollow, however, and to Harlow, worse than death. He was bitten and so cursed to be a monster for the rest of his life. Now, shunned by men, hunted by many, he travels alone, on the fringes of society, shunning his less than human form, a lost soul in a now larger than mortal life world. He was chased across the entire continental US and so, in a bid to escape his pursuers, he began to trek across Europe.

He found himself in Prague and stopped there for just a day or two to get his bearings, and that's when it all started. He was tracked down to his hotel room in a town outside of Prague by the servants of Natasha...the Lycan Queen who had tracked him with spies earlier in his time in Germany. He escaped, killing one wolf and wounding another...traveling through Prague's warehouse district, he did the one thing he was best at, he hid. It was on this night that he came across the most terrifying wolf he'd ever seen. Ironically enough, Harlow met Ryan O'Brian in a claw to claw fight on the warehouse floor. A fight that, admittedly, he lost, albeit however slightly. Harlow expected to die that night, but instead, The big wolf let him live, the two made a pact that night to help each other fight against the clutches of the Queen. Harlow took Ryan's pack, two she wolves, and hid out in the wooded area around the village of Hubluko Drevo, they stayed in a small cabin that night, waiting for Ryan to show up from whatever business he was conducting in the city. Harlow stood watch and in the morning, while walking in the woods, he noticed the village in an uproar. The villagers chased him back to the cabin, after a small chase and skirmish, the wolves were able to escape but found themselves on the doorstep of the Lycan Queen herself. The she wolves managed to escape while Harlow held off the guards, he was captured and interrogated by the Queen herself who gave him a choice, work for her and gain something he had not had in a century or more; a home. Although he saw the benefits of allying himself with the queen, he initially declined, some inner feeling of humanity causing him to keep true to his pact with Ryan. He left the Queen's mansion and later found Ryan's pack in the same warehouse that he had been in the night before. They had found two hunters who had turned wolf, one was Holly's sister; Vegas, the other was a man named Andy Bruss who Harlow found out later had some bad blood with Ryan. The big wolf eventually showed up with his alpha female, a she wolf named Star and their son Cass. It wasnt long until they were joined by another wolf, Dez who had originally been spying on them for Natasha, afterwards the warehouse was attacked by a team of the Queen's wolves who killed Lisa and Vegas making off with Ryan's son. In their frenzied rage, Harlow and the combined pack split up, Andy and Dez going one direction, the pack going in another and meeting up with other rebels, two throne loyalists named Musater and the "rightful" king Longar.

The two groups decided to band together for the time being, and that was until Ryan decided to take fate into his own hands and surrender himself to the Lycan Queen. Harlow tried to stop the big wolf but was unable to convince him, the rest of the wolves decided to find Andy and Dez, who had rendezvoused with the rest of the hunters at Prague's river docks. There was a battle involving a sect of insane hunters, religious zealots that nearly killed them all, they were defeated, although Dez and his father Carl were hurt badly. Harlow pleaded the wolves' case to the hunters who declined to help them despite their arguments. Harlow and the rest of the rebels retreated and it was then that Harlow began to question where his allegiances laid. Eventually, he decided that it was in his own best interest, and damn anyone else's, that he take Natasha' original offer of allegiance. But he knew that he could not go back to the queen empty handed after refusing her. He devised a plan and cleverly hid it from the loyalist, telling only Holly whom he knew would want to see Ryan again. And so the rebel wolves prepared a deceptively simple plan, prepared to go, and took their assets to surprise Natasha and her loyal army of wolves. It was then that Harlow struck, with the help of Natasha's own, guard, he turned the tables on the rebels and made sure none of them escaped besides Dez himself. Harlow delivered Carl, a pureblood and a traitor to Natasha who promptly did away with him. His loyalty and allegiance proven, Harlow was given a place in Natasha's forces and has since taken to his position with gusto, finally embracing that wilder side of himself.

Other info- In the past few years he has met (forcibly so) another Lycan claiming to be his descendant.

Virtue- Tenacity- Harlow has a fiery spirit like no other, he may not be the biggest or strongest wolf to have ever lived, but he does not know the word "failure" or "impossible." His drive is unbreakable, as a result he has been dealt wounds before that were known to have killed lycans larger than him and live through them. He has walked the line between life and death more times than most wolves could dream and he has come back from the precipice each time through sheer force of will.

Vice- Selfishness- In the end, Harlow is only interested in what benefits himself. He has been known to betray others, to commit horribly immoral and some would consider evil acts for his own benefit. Though he has been known to stick his neck out for those close to him sometimes, there is a fine limit to his small amount of generosity.

Vehicle- An 80's model black Harley Rocker.

Stats- WS-9/BS-1/S-8/T-8/W-3/I-6/A-5/SV-3+

Location- Western United States

Special rule- Grubrah characters have the Rage Universal Special Rule while in Wolf form

Picture-

Major NPC

Player- WARORK93

Character- Alex Whitlow

Race and clan/archetype- Wolf/ Shunkaha

Age: 74

Physical Description- Average height, 6'3, long, lanky, long legs and arms, distinctly Native American characteristics, especially in the face, a few scars on the torso, one along the outside of his right eye near the temple, tightly cut mohawk, black hair, grey eyes

Equipment/ Clothes- Black Jeans, dark green T shirt, brown fleeced leather jacket, a quiver and belt with holsters for holding weapons, brown hunting boots.

Weapons- Sliver plated Kukri knife, Compound bow, two nickel plated, engraved, Colt M1911A1 pistols

Backstory- Alex was born to a career soldier father and a Native American mother named Sara. He was birthed at the outbreak of the second World War and his father, being a man of the military, died in the European theater of that conflict. For many years of Alex's childhood, he stayed with his mother and family on their plantation in Oklahoma. After he reached adolescence, however, stories from other reservations began to filter through to his family's ears. Men came in the night, abducted a few of them, and killed others for no apparent reason. The authorities were unable or unwilling to help and so Sara decided to take her son and leave. They lived contently off of the reservation for many years, carving out a life together, though Alex was often lonely as his mother left him frequently for a few days at a time for reasons when always justified as necessary. As the late sixties rolled around, Alex was drafted into the army for the war in Southeast Asia. And there was where his life changed forever. He and his platoon were cut off while on patrol one night and surrounded. As they all sat silently, waiting for their doom, something else came out of the jungle at them, something none of them had expected even in their wildest nightmares. Pale figures swooped out of the brush and from under the ground at them, they ripped the men apart with their bare hands, bullets couldn't touch them, neither could explosives. One by one Alex's men fell, in a last ditch effort the remaining men called airstrikes on their position. When the smoke cleared, Alex was the only one of his men left alive, but he was not alone, the jungle had been cleared by flames but the creatures remained, they laughed as they pinned Alex to a tree and stuck a cold blade in his stomach. That was the night Alex learned what he really was and he was the only one to walk away from that fight...

Other info- The past year or so of Alex's life has been spent searching for someone of great importance to his family name, recently he has found the wolf he sought though he may later regret his efforts

Virtue- Reflexes- Alex is one of the fastest wolves alive. He is naturally quick, swift, balanced, and accurate. He may not throw the hardest punches or bring the most strength to the table but there are not many who can land a solid blow on him as his litheness allows him to easily pivot out of the way of danger and strike back before the enemy can make his next move.

Vice- Arrogance- Alex considers himself above the animalistic nature of other wolves to the point where he often secludes himself from others of his own kind.

Vehicle- A blue and white 1969 Ford Mustang

Stats- WS-8/BS-3/S-6/T-5/W-3/I-8/A-5/Sv-3+

Location- Western United States

Picture-

Major NPC

Player- WARORK93

Character- Katherine Whitlow

Race and clan/archetype- Wolf/Mgral

Age- 169

Physical Description- Average height, 5'9, strong but compact build, Caucasian, red, curly hair and blue eyes, obviously attractive

Equipment/ Clothes- Green bomber jacket, white top, jeans, sneakers

Weapons- Large, silver, butterfly knife, a mini uzi in a side holster

Backstory- Katherine grew up in a well off family living in the Midwest boom towns of America during the nineteenth century. She was the oldest of three daughters born to the Whitlow family, the sire of which was a wealthy businessman who often made deals with foreign dignitaries. Her life was generally uneventful until she became a young woman. One fateful day, an associate of her father's came to her door...it was on that day that her family, her mother and her siblings learned of her father's true profession. He was a hunter of the supernatural and he had been killed in the line of duty. Needless to say, this was a lot for Katherine to take, her eyes were opened to a world she hadn't known existed and she spent several years afterwards listlessly wandering the country, wondering what to do with herself. In the city of San Antonio, she met a man named Syd Harlow, who, wandering himself, swept her off her feet. The two were together for a year or more and it was after a night of passion that Harlow revealed a secret to her. He was a werewolf, the same beast that had killed her father those years ago. Internally she was shocked beyond belief but externally she tried not to show it. Sadly, she could not reconcile herself to stay with Harlow and left him soon afterwards. She had nothing and led a miserable existence for nearly another year. It was during this time that she found she was pregnant, but before she could figure out what to do with herself, a gruff wolf attacked her in the dead of night and wounded her. The wolf was unkind and sadistic, keeping Katherine with him for many months as his personal toy until he let his guard down and payed for it with his life at the end of her new claws. Katherine continued her new life the only way she knew how, alone, never happy, always surviving...

Other info-

Virtue- Manipulation: Over Katherine's unnaturally long life she has learned how to get what she wants and needs and isn't afraid to use nearly everything she is able to her advantage.

Vice- Cruelty: Katherine isn't the kindest woman you'll meet, she's hard to warm up to and her hard life has taught her one thing: The only person looking out for you is yourself...

Vehicle- A modified C-47 Skytrain

Stats- WS-7/BS-4/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+

Location- Western United States

Picture-

Damn, first character sheet. Forgot about that dang it, oh well you can have that honor. Maybe I'll be second.


Player: Halonachos
Character: Andy Bruss
Race/Affiliation: Werewolf Nrajah, enslaved to Claudius Sylvanus of House Julii.
Information: 6' 1", brown hair and eyes, slight muscular build, 23+ years old(depending on time between first and this RP). Andy is also missing his right hand, in his wolf form he is covered in brown hair, but is much thinner than most other wolves thanks to his neglect of his wolf form due to the fact that he has to go on three legs instead of four.

Backstory:

Andy began hunting the supernatural when his parents died at the age of 16 and through the times he has earned many skills and traits that some find useful and others find distasteful. In Morrison City Andy learned the skills of bargaining with vampires in an effort to estrange them from their kindred and also learned the more important skills of supernatural torture and mutilation. He is prone to fits of anger if a friend or loved one is killed and has proved time and time again to be willing to sacrifice many to save one.

In Empire City Andy received several weapons to aid in the fight against the supernaturals, the Sword of Ra, a blessed weapon that excels in killing vamps and a dagger designed specifically to deal with wolves. The sword was brought by an older hunter named Miranda who, along with several hunters brought into Empire City, fought a group of vampires called the Fallen in order to save a fellow hunter named Vegas. The battle was hard fought, but Andy's plan to rescue Vegas had held together mostly well; the hunters had found Vegas and had rescued her, but at the loss of two fellow hunters, their leader Trask, and a big hulking man named Jimbo. A bomb that had been rammed into the building was set off, entombing most of the Fallen inside. In the final battle of Empire City, Andy and the others engaged the Fallen and several wolves around the area of the crater that was once a theater, Andy claimed the head of one of the Fallen, Azazeal, and met another hunter who would become his wife, Wendy. A younger hunter named Dez was wounded by a wolf and ran off, Andy decided against hunting him down... his past was already wearing thin on him and guilt prevented him from carrying the action out.

In Prague Andy's first son was born thanks to magic Pontius had used on Wendy, Wendy herself was turned afterwards and later was killed by the hunters in a fight in the Crooked House. In that fight, Andy and Vegas killed Pontius but the group suffered the loss of Sven, Ace, and Jack. Andy soon died in a hospital but was returned to life by the bite of Vegas, who had been turned into a wolf while in Prague. Joker took Andy's new son back to America where he could be taken care of by Wendy's mother while Andy and Vegas ran off to spend the night of the full moon somewhere safe. They managed to find other wolves, Holly and Lisa, Holly was Vegas's sister and the group went to a warehouse to wait for the others. In the warehouse Andy met Harlow, Star, and again met Ryan, who's brother Andy had killed in Empire City, fortunately for Andy, Ryan spared Andy's life thanks to the mental breakdown Andy was having. There was another fight in the warehouse and Lisa and Vegas were both killed, Andy's mind spiraled out of control and he began to hear voices but managed to stay coherent enough to lead Dez away from the others and hopefully towards rescue by a returning Joker. In a fight near the docks, Andy was reunited with his wife who had managed to return back to life as a human thanks to her death as a kindred in the Crooked House and some inter-dimensional travel. In the end, Andy, Wendy, and their son Michael finally returned home only to be confronted with more vampires. Claudius had been following Andy's bloodline for centuries and revealed to Andy how his parents died and how Andy had received his talisman that he wore around his neck. Claudius told Andy that if he agreed to sign a contract along with his wife that they would be taken care of and that like his father, Andy had created enemies everywhere. Andy realized the truth behind Claudius's words and signed the contract along with Wendy, enslaving his blood line to Claudius. Unknown to both of them, they had just created a trend common in the Crooked World, lycans becoming the slaves of the kindred.


Picture of Andy thanks to Silly.


And of course Andy's wife, Wendy.

@Warork

Why did i read it first...

player: Sillyboy

PC

Character: Sky 'Vegas' Henderson ( Crooked )
Race/affiliation: Hunter/ Dervish
Physical Description: Female, 1.70 m, Athletic , brown hair, green eyes, 28 years old.
Equipment: a pair of pistols, stake, Daggers and muddy tattered clothes.

Background:
Sky was seven when the world changed. In the middle of day the sun disappeared and never returned.
Things of nightmare stalked the streets and carved their own bloody path into history. She and her family fled from Las Vegas, her hometown. They scavenged the land with untold millions of refugees. Their numbers declined rapidly as the vampires build their own twisted society. Her parents died after they had been struck down with illness. What once was once a easily curable virus, was now an unstoppable killer.
Sky and Holly survived the passing years, only trusting each others. Until they met the resistance. Loose remnants of what once was the network. Holly wanted to help, she had enough of merely surviving. She wanted to take action. Sky tried, but couldn't change her mind.

The first encounter with 'them' went horrible. Lots of hunters died as they walked straight into an ambush. The Vampirii struck with unrelenting madness. Their crazed laughter sneered trough the cold air. Holly was captured by the wretched inhabitants off the new world, blood dripped of her lips as a vampire tied her up.

Vegas barely escaped, dragged away by the few remaining hunters. Vegas rage broke her rescuers upper arm.
Holly was still alive. Vegas could feel it, she needed to go back. Her fellow survivors quickly moved onwards, with blank faces.
If she wanted dead, who were they to stop her. She came to the battlefield. Empty. Everything was gone, no body, weapon was left
to prove what had transpired. Only the plowed earth, filled with the bloody tears of the deceased remembered them.

Vegas followed the tracks of a large group walking away from the field. She followed the path for an eternity. The darkness robbing her off any sense of time. Never stopping to feed, rest Vegas finaly reached the outskirts of a seaside city. Screams off terror and despair echoed trough the eternal night. Vegas arrived at her location.

She spied the city for several weeks, surviving of stolen food out of the big greenhouses. But as much as she tried.
Vegas couldn't enter the city. She made a gamble and contacted a ghoul, living in the city. She promised him everything if he could find
out where her sister was. The ghoul greedily accepted. The price was high, but Vegas got her information.

She waited for an opportunity to strike. It didn't take long for it too arrive. A storm breached trough to the city.
Vegas placed herself in a tiny boat and paddled to the abandoned docks. Under the cover of the ravaging storm she infiltrated the blood farm. Sterile white walls greeted her. The walls were divided into small sections, each with his own number. She opened the section which the ghoul had told her. He was right. The section opened, revealing a naked Holly floating in a thick blue liquid. several tubes pierced in her flesh.

Vegas broke the glass wall in a mighty blow. The fluid crashed into her. The smell of rotting flesh slamming in nostrils.
And finally Holly was back in her hands. Vegas hold her tight, almost suffocating her. Holly didn't responded. She cleaned the mucus of her face. No reaction. Vegas panicked and started pulling the damned tubes out of her. One of them released a transparent liquid. Morfine. Vegas continued, pulling the last one out of her neck. Blood trickled out of it. With every heartbeat more of the precious Vitea left her body.
Her panic increased, Tears started to form in her eyes. she placed the needle back. It didn't help. More blood flooded out. she placed her hand on the bleeding wound. Pressing. Keeping as much as possible inside. Holly opened her tired blood-soaked eyes. She raised her shaking hands towards Vegas. Softly following her cheeks. "You came back" Holly spoke with a rusted voice. Her hand fell on the cold sterile floor.

Vegas left the lifeless body on the ground. She had tried but failed. Tears speckled her bloody face. She ignored, the Vampirii and ghouls who looked up as she passed. Shocked too see a human running trough the streets. Arriving at the docks she saw Arbites standing next to her rusty little vessel. They looked over their shoulders as they reeked the presence of fresh blood behind them. There was no escape.
Vegas dove into the icy sea. Her blooded hands carrying her away from Holly. Cold slipped into her limbs numbing them one at a time.
It was time to leave this all behind. Vegas gave up. Surrendering to the crashing waves.

Flaws/Vice:
Wrath: Sky blames the unnatural for all what happened in the world. The wars of blood, the tears of innocent.
Flaw: Vegas likes too smoke, but cigarettes are increasingly harder to find.

Virtues:
Industria/Dilligence: Vegas is stubborn and will continue to press on...

Location/resources: On the road
Vehicle: nothing for now
Stats: WS-6/BS-4/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-6/A-4/Sv-3+

special rules:
Whirligig: The dervish increases the ferocity of their attacks. The dervish gets an additional attack at the cost of -1 to their toughness to represent their lack of attention to defense.





Major NPC

Character: Sophia Von Dusseldorf
Race/affiliation: Kindred/ House of Julii/ Perpetua Clan
Physical Description: Female, 52 inches, skinny, brown hair, hazelbrown eyes.
Appearence: Always dressed in sober Victorian styled clothes, two black bows placed in her brown hair.
A Golden cross hanging from a necklace.

Background:
A lot of the history of Sophia is shrouded in mystery. Her Embracer was never found, leaving her Houseless in the World.
But still Sophia managed to work her self up during the chaos of 'The Rise'. Using her heritage as an Old Blood and malicious intellect to be inducted in to the House of Jullii.
Living under the protection of the Perpetua clan. One of the smaller clans within the House.

Her delicate accent betrays her origins of growing up around the Schwarzwald in West-Germany.
Supposedly she lived during the Victorian era, her wardrobe still reflects the fashion of that time.
She has a great interest in biology, studying many of earths inhabitants. Her personal library is filled with these books of knowledge.
Many entries written by herself.

She lives outside the city of Arl'nev, prefering the silence off the wasteland.
A small staff of slaves, New Bloods and prometheans fall under her protection. Serving their Domina until the end of times.

Sophia is often found standing alone on the balcony.
Eyes looking into Oblivion, under the dark sky.
A hand tightly gripped around a golden cross.

*******
Wash me away
Clean your body of me
Erase all the memories
They will only bring us pain

"Yet pain and memories, are the fuels of our existence..."

Sophia, 13th of oktober 1992,
At the Advent of the Rise


Flaws/Vice:
Wrath: Some things can't be forgotten.

Virtues:
Patientia: Trough the years Sophia has learned that rash action are futile, to survive one requires patience and mercyless calculations.

Location/resources: Outside of Arl'nev, the black city.
Vehicle: Has several methods of transportation, but she prefers to ride on horseback.
Stats: WS-7/BS-4/S-7/T-6/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+

special rules:
Starvation: A starving Vampire reduces his stats by -1 for everything except wounds and this continues until the modifier reaches -3 at which point the Vampirii loses a wound. ( Taking one victims per week is the minimal requirement in order to maintain strength.)
Creature of the Night: Sunlight counts as an instant-death weapon against Vamps,however to reflect a possible escape (if applicable) Vampires get one + 5 save to get to cover,if the save is successful the vampire takes a wound and counts as starving until it feeds again.
Immortality: As a Vampire one can live forever, normal weapons no longer kill the body.They will only damage it.But there is an exception, the decapitation of the vampire will release the bond between body and soul.
Heritage of Vlad: Vampires are Vulnerable to wood, the alien living tissue conflicting with their own. A wooden stake through the heart will paralyze the vampire.
Gifts of Blood: The Vampire has the possibility to regenerate wounds by feeding of humans. Using the precious blood to repair their own body.

Player- Darksage

Character- *Joker* Real name not known.

Race and clan/archetype Hunter/Joan

Physical Description; Medium height, blue eyes, neat brown hair, fit.

Equipment; Light sub machine gun , tan suit, many house hold items and some things he could use for potential explosives. Duffel bag full of *goodies*

Backstory; Joker's parents were always a mystery to him. Alive or dead it never really mattered that much, he was an orphan and just had to deal with it. He wasn't too worried about whether he was the lost prodigy of a wealthy family who died in some overly traumatic way. Or if he was the begotten son of some girl in high school couple who couldn't support having a family. One day a man had offered him a life of something more but required much of him. He had to fake his own death and give up all of his past life to become something else. The man who took him in demanded much of him, most of all utter unquestionable loyalty. This man was the King, and Joker proudly became one of the King''s men carrying out the King's orders with pride. The King's men had always worked with the Network, the Network appreciated the help but didn't exactly approve of the reasons. It was to get power over others. The King's Men pretty much owned Vegas and all the businesses payed tribute. They were the King's, they were on top.

Other info: He refuses to tell anyone his real name often dancing around the question when it's asked in an avoidance. For all intents and purposes his name was Joker.

Virtue- Poker face, when Joker lies it's hard to tell, and he lies a lot.

Vice- Stubborn, Joker will not admit he's in a bad situation or needs help even when he's backed against the wall. He insists it's just part of the game.

Pic http://www.google.com/imgres?q=Benny+new+vegas+joker&hl=en&safe=off&gbv=2&biw=1024&bih=577&tbm=isch&tbnid=o3QrF9N31zCNJM:&imgrefurl=http://fallout.wikia.com/wiki/File:Joker_1.jpg&docid=hF_E1LPq2-cphM&w=362&h=513&ei=0weNTs-IF8bysgbekaEJ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=98&vpy=117&dur=399&hovh=126&hovw=89&tx=101&ty=107&page=1&tbnh=126&tbnw=89&start=0&ndsp=16&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0

Player- Darksage

Character- *Chamuel Pattern Armor grants them a 2+ save.
Flechette gun for vampire threats, Shotguns with silver laced buckshot for werewolves. The Black Knight*

Race and clan/archetype Tank

Physical Description; Tall, grey hair with some bits of black still in it, medium weight, very strong, beard.

Equipment; Black Chamuel Pattern Armor
Flechette gun for vampire threats, Shotguns with silver laced buckshot for werewolves.

Backstory; Knight had been childhood friends with none other than the King. He has a twin brother named the Red Knight had until now both accompanied the King as a personal guard. With things getting more hectic the King ordered Knight to guard Joker and help him. Knight had been there since the King built his empire and had been a part of it. He had a tendency for saving the King's life so he was always near. His fierce loyalty had known no bounds giving anything to protect.

Other info: Knight has been like a uncle to Joker giving him wisdom over the years.

Virtue- Wisdom, years of experience have weathered this man into being able to tell truth from bs and being able to give decent insight.

Vice- Overbearing, he might seem like a lot to deal with often times without knowing the line of personal space. There is always someone out there who wants to kill them and as long as he's there he feels like he's balancing it out.

http://www.google.com/imgres?q=strong+old+man&hl=en&gbv=2&biw=1024&bih=554&tbm=isch&tbnid=4h-B1s-P3P9xuM:&imgrefurl=http://www.sodahead.com/united-states/the-top-2008-election-quotes-that-made-you-say-wtf-which-one-is-your-favorite/question-185441/&docid=MUbJ91aZoh8NNM&w=350&h=466&ei=O6qQTu7zF6Lf0QGxw90t&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=633&vpy=169&dur=4890&hovh=259&hovw=194&tx=52&ty=122&page=5&tbnh=155&tbnw=119&start=38&ndsp=10&ved=1t:429,r:3,s:38

Player- Darksage

Character- *2 of spades*

Race and clan/archetype Medic/Lazarus

Physical Description; Skinny, about 5,5, short brown hair, bad eyes,

Equipment; Raphael pattern medical kit, pistol with silver tipped rounds. Glasses, suit that's too small for him,

Backstory; 2 of spades has never been really more than average in anything. He failed at every sport he tried and was never that good with the ladies. He always seemed to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. The only reason he was let into the King's men was because of a recommendation from his father. The only really skill set that anyone has ever found useful in spades was that he could patch someone up after a fight. He decided that he had gone through some pretty intense beatings in his life and decided that he would like to know how to patch himself up afterwards. After school he had become a med student but never really had the grades to pass. Out on his own and jobless he thought he would take up his offer to join the King's Men.

Other info: He can be awkward.

Virtue- He means well, no matter how much he messes something up you can't be that mad, he was only trying to help.

Vice- He doesn't like to hurt things and sometimes will willingly run from a fight if the situation allows it.

http://www.google.com/imgres?q=awkward+guy&um=1&hl=en&sa=N&biw=1024&bih=554&tbm=isch&tbnid=LYb1qHuxWkX42M:&imgrefurl=http://www.mancouch.com/704735174/michael-cera-champion-of-the-awkward/&docid=0UYBYPJIDYsu5M&w=279&h=420&ei=g62QTqy_H6ry0gHZ08TlDQ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=519&vpy=164&dur=1152&hovh=276&hovw=183&tx=98&ty=174&page=2&tbnh=158&tbnw=133&start=8&ndsp=8&ved=1t:429,r:2,s:8

Location- Las Vegas

Player: Berserksteve
Character: David Rainer “Illuminatus”
Class: Arch Mage
Faction: Gray Matter
Schools: Arcane
Physical Description: He stands 6 feet tall, long unkempt hair and slender figure. His body is etched with tattoo's
Equipment: Tattered Robes, books, dried herbs in pockets, a watch set to each time zone and a hat.
Backstory:
Born David Rainer, Illuninatus started his life in a Washington state with his parents. He showed to be a smart child, while not a genius, he showed great hopes in school and started to study to become an archeologist like his father. His father never made any huge discoveries but he had a great fascination with the Great Lake of Michigan, where he believed a lost city was. David graduated collage and showed hope for a successful career.
After a year of looking for work he found a group of people who were interested in the Great Lakes and had a plan to take submarines and scuba equipment to find something similar to what David’s dad was looking for. David hopped right on board with the mission.
The mission had 12 people; including David and two subs. David soon started to see that these weren’t normal archeologists, after going under the lakes did he learn that the group had explosives and were “Keeping humanity safe.” Little is know what happened after that point but one of the subs returned while David’s sub had gone missing.
After a week David’s sub was found on a shore in Canada with him alone on the ship and the rest of the crew missing. David also refused to be called by his name, insisting he was called Illuminatus. After being held by authorities a group came and broke him out of custody. The old David Rainer was reported as miss and for the next year Illuminatus was with a covenant of Gray Matter mages, where he began to control his power and learn about who he was. He soon become a very helpful force with the mages, usually being default to work and communicate with, he was still very effective in his work.
Soon Illuminatus’s past came back. The crew that managed to escape from the expedition in the lakes learned that Illuminatus was still alive and was “corrupted by the dark powers” that existed at the bottom of the lake. With the help of the Six Fingered Hand, they hunted him down along with the rest of his covenant, after a month of running and fighting, Illuminatus was the only one left.
Illuminatus severed himself from the rest of the mages and is now living alone in a small downtown apartment, studying is solitude.
Other info:
Virtue - Fortitude
Vice- Untrusting


Player: Berserksteve
Character: Sophie Miller
Class: Battle Mage
Faction: The Prodigy
Schools: Umbra
Physical Description: Sophie stands 5"3 and keeps her hair short.
Equipment: She wears a heavy jacket and keeps a concealed gun on herself.
Backstory:
Sophie grew in a military family her whole life. She found herself going all over the world but never being able to stay in one place for long. While she never saw violence, she always feared war and fighting.
When Sophie was 17 she was living in South Africa. When it came to here last week of living there her family was ordered to stay. For the next month all ports were closed and she was forced to stay at the base and could not leave. At day time it was calm but ever night she would hear bullets being fired and the sound of people fighting. She was never told what they were fighting, even the troops were questioning their officers, they were told to just follow orders. Her father was killed in the first night leaving Sophie with just her mother.
Over that mouth she talked with no one, some nights she would just hold up here ear the walks, listing to the fighting, She would even fire guns at the target range. Other nights she was acting like herself. Along with that, that troops started to fear Sophie and avoid her. One man even walked into her room with a knife but he was stopped and was left out into the night with no weapons.
The troops’ thoughts become more twisted as time went one, brawls were more common and some even started to look forward to the night. Sophie’s mother over this time was doing everything she could to go somewhere else. Her mother was finally able to bring in a helicopter for them but by this time all the troops were different people, taking out their guns they started to chase them. Sophie with her mother and few of the sane solders made their way out of the base while mad solders shot at them. As they ran Sophie picked up a gun and fired back, this was her first time firing a person, she was very good at it.
They made it back to helicopter and flew off they saw a better view of the base, seeing stakes of inhuman beast and monsters' corpses. After the military learned of the events at the base they wanted Sophie to come with them but before they could make contact with Sophie, her mother sent her off to The Prodigy mages where she learned to control her powers and the dark spirit within. She has worked for the mages now for a few years.
Other info: The spirit within her takes the name Guruhi
Virtue- Honest
Vice- Coward

(hope this works out.)


Derrick Moss
Race: Werewolf/Mgral
Stats: WS-7/BS-4/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
Equipment: 7.62 mm, Self Loading Rifle, sig p9226, silver knife, UV strobe light, (silver /wooden glaser bullets) Stake. US military fatigues (jungle) M1 helmet. Flak vest. Normally wears black pants, brown shirt and a trenchcoat, also, a 40’s ‘detective’ Fedora
Appearance: Derrick has black hair and slightly rampant acne.



Derrick was 18 when he was drafted to fight in the jungles of Vietnam, he was put into Bravo Company, a unit deployed to the Central Highlands.
In time, Derrick’s platoon was on patrol out of ‘Fort Bronx’ was ambushed near the town of Ba Cat. This was Derrick’s most hellish combat experience, He could not see the enemy, but he could damn sure hear them, flashes of rifle fire jetted form the thicker jungle. Derrick fired indiscriminately into the jungle, VC RPG fire shot out of the trees.
The 60. C al was giving cover fire to the retreating platoon, Derrick was ordered to load for the 60. as the gunner had taken a bullet to the shoulder. Derrick pressed himself as low to the ground as possible while holding up the ammo belts for the gun.
After the last of the troops had been evac-ed, Derrick and the Specialist carried the gunner back to the rendezvous point.
Midway there, a beast tore it’s way out of the jungle, a cross between man and wolf, it ran directly at the soldiers and leapt.
Derrick was thrown to the ground and savaged. The beast sunk it’s teeth into the boy’s side before the gunner sent a dozen rounds into it’s chest, it jumped off of Derrick and tried to consume the gunner. the beast almost killed the gunner before he could stab it with his knife, this sent the beast howling onto the forest.
The two were found several minutes later by a passing Chopper and brought not to the base hospital, but to the MACV-SOG headquarters in Saigon.
The last thing Derrick remembered was being put under anesthesia. When he awoke, it was in a MACV SOG base at Khe Saan. He was put through intense training, never given any reason why he was out directly into the SpecOps aside from ‘exceptional competence in Black Operations and courage in the field of battle’ after several weeks of missions, he discovered what had happened via the bite when he was doing a solo infil on an NLF compound. He did not report this to his superiors, but soon after, he figured out exactly what was wrong with him, requesting leave every full moon was not hard. He would simply sneak off into the jungle and rampage about the VC camps. This went on for several months until his final mission in postwar Vietnam was up, the MACV SOG let him out and he was sent back to the states.
He tried to cope with both the hellish memories of Vietnam and the fact that he turned into an eight-foot beastman every full moon but found it increasingly difficult.
Within a year, he was living in the ghetto of Detroit, a drunk, without a future aside form having to leave the city once a month.
One full moon, he was driving out of the city and happened upon another werewolf.
It was a nrajah, another wolf that had foresworn the clans. It noticed Derrick wile hunting and attacked him, Derrick was saved by another werewolf though, a passing ‘hunter’ it had been tracking the nrajah who had gone insane and slaughtered several hundred head of cattle. And five ranchers

He werewolf saw that Derrick was another and took him with him to his pack, a group of ‘liberal’ werewolves, that believed that humans and werewolves should live in a beneficent existence, the condemned criminals should be eaten, and thus the werewolves would be able to satisfy heir need for flesh, while the werewolves that killed uncondemned humans would also be executed. The pack was part of this society, mostly older werewolves, few were younger and inclined to be more peaceful then their ‘savage’ brethren. They had been puling strings for almost one thousand years. Slowly trying to get the point across, eliminating unruly nrajha as well as the more fanatical branches of the Hunters, they held a particular view on the Six-Fingered-Hand, a view usually seen through the crosshairs of a scope. The Pack though, knows that Vampires are nothing but mindless freaks who exist only to leech the blood of society.
Derrick agreed wholeheartedly with their ideals, he also agrees that while Natasha is an ‘interesting case’ and might turn out for the better, though as of now, she seems to be turning into a slightly unsavory character. The Pack has been hoping that sending Derrick’s command to ‘work with’ the wolves in Natasha’s group, will aid their cause just that much more.


Flaws/Vice: Derrick is a ‘new wolf’ still, and prefers the non-violent approach. Derrick is plagued by PTSD and is still wary of his werewolf side, preferring the use of weapons over claws. he still has nightmares about Vietnam. Derrick finds it hard to go for five minutes without a cigarette or a bottle of a possibly alcoholic substance. He is a chronic liar when it fits his needs.
Virtue: Derrick spent most of his post-war life as a mercenary, he is skilled with weapons and prefers to use human tools over claws.
Vehicle: Armor Plated Maruti Gypsy (grey, brown and green camo paintjob)



NPCs:
Alberto Ruiz:
Werewolf: Grubrah
Stats: WS-9/BS-1/S-8/T-8/W-3/I-6/A-5/SV-3+
Clothes/armor: loose blue jeans, brown shirt, sweatshirt, trenchcoat, M60 ammo bandolier. Large-brimmed pimp-hat (that’s what derrick calls his wide-brimmed hat) winter jacket, BP vest (when needed)
Height: 5-4 (immense when he Changes.)
Appearance: Hispanic, short:
Gear: M60 GPMG, Walther P22, fire hatchet.
Ruiz was pretty shocked to see Derrick again when he arrived at the Detroit base of the Blunted Fang. He had operated Derrick’s MACV SOG team’s machine gun. And had last seen Derrick when they parted ways when Ruiz was shot up in the jungle and was taken out during the evacuation of Saigon. Derrick’s team had been ordered to pull back to a classified base in the Central Highlands. When they met again, thy were both put in the same ‘killteam’ an have gone on many missions together.
Ruiz was bitten buy a rouge wolf soon after he returned to the Bronx, The Grubrah had accosted him at full moon, mad with hunger, it had chased Ruiz into an ally, where it attempted to maul him, Ruiz climbed up a drainpipe, but had been bittern in his mad dash for it. Ruiz was saved by the intervention of the police, who fired on the beast and drove it off.
The former soldier lived an ordinary life in the Bronx until he discovered his lycanic abilities. He was lost and confused, within a year, Hunters broke into his apartment and attempted to do away with him. he fled to the only place where he might be able to escape: Detroit, where Derrick lived.
When Ruiz arrived at Detroit, he did not find his fiend for almost three years, working as a triggerman for the Mob until, on a lonely stretch of path, he happened across Derrick, how was going on a Solo hunt of a vampire who was killing hookers in the city. After greetings and catching-up were exchanged, Ruiz aided Derrick in the extermination and moved to the apartment building used by the Detroit branch of the blunted Fang.
After about two months, the mob group that had been his employers sought to make , sure he did not ‘squeal’ and sent an assassin to kill him.
The mobster Don was surprised to awaken wit an enraged Grubrah butchering his way through his house.
The body was never found, just a few bones, stripped of flesh.
Ruiz has since worked with the Fang, he has been put in Derrick’s group as their gunner
Other Info: Ruiz remembers the werewolf that attacked him had several scars across his face, most noticeably a pair across the cheek and one on the snout.
Vice: Nachos, Ruiz cant get enough.
Flaw: Wrath: Ruiz will be driven by a brutal vengeance if he is betrayed, often hunting down the wrongdoers and killing them in a gory fashion, he has a perpetual angry look on his face.
Virtue: Loyalty.



Abdi Korfa
Werewolf/Shunkaha
Appearance: Black, large man, Somolian.

Clothes: Blue jeans (loose, baggy) bandanna around his head, blue shirt and bulletproof vest.
Weapons: AK74U carbine (shortened barrel) Mossberg 50 shotgun, silver/wooden glazer rounds, silver and wooden AP rounds. 38. Special (stake and silver glazer rounds) Machete.
Born into a wealthy family in Somalia, Abdi soon fell in with the ‘wrong crowd’ this was several years before the Mogadishu incident. Abdi left to go pirating before it.
Abdi’s pirating career was cut short when he was boarded by Saudi naval infantry when in the Persian gulf and thrown in jail.
In prison, Abdi met an Indian who was trying to escape before the full moon. Abdi aided him in his efforts, using the man’s unnatural strength to make a lever of the cots they had.
The night however, was full moon.
When the two ran out of the prison via the sewers, the man Changed and attacked Abdi, biting him before running off into the night. Abdi fled.
He worked as a mercenary in the Belgian Congo for many years before heading for America, where he worked for local cimelords, mostly the drug lords of South America. After a while he was found by the Fang, who’s agents were checking the cars of passing border crossers under the guise of border guards. They were making sure no one was smuggling nrajah or kindred into the States.
The group took Abdi with them to Detroit, where he was put into Derrick’s ‘squad’ he has been there foe a year and a half.

Flaw: cruelty
Virtue: preserve
Vice: Kaht (This would have the side effect of increasing his endurance)
Vehicle: refitted crab fisher, contains ammo, base needs and vehicle storage along with an RPG below decks and a rail-mounted Para SAW in case a quick escape is needed.
MINOR NPC
Dutch Shultz
(open this image in a new tab to see it.)
Clothes: suitcoat, Stetson hat, silver-tipped boots.
Weapons: Colt M1911, Browning Hi-Power. Silver/wooden hollow point bullets (1/2 silver, ½ mini stakes) Thompson .45 submachine gun ‘Chicago Typewriter’. (silver/wooden cigarette rounds)
Shultz was just an ordinary human being at the time of his ‘death’ a Jewish-American mobster in New York, he was assassinated by agents of Murder. Inc when his boss feared he would go about a denied hit, he contacted Moran’s irish-American mob and had them pull the job along with Murder inc.
Immediately after he died, one of his best hitmen, a werewolf whom Shultz new was a Lycan, had been ordered to bite him on the event of his death.
He did so and Shultz returned to the land of the living, his coffin was empty, a closed coffin funeral was arranged and not many people saw.

Shultz contacted the hunters of the Six-Fingered hand, posing as a network informant.
He informed the members of the Hand that the entire Mob, especially those who killed Shultz, were newly bitten by a rouge wolf who they managed to kill afterwards.
The Hunters posed as members of Al Capone’s Italian mafia and on Thursday February Fourteenth 1929, Ironically, Valentines day, the hunters rounded up the ‘werewolves’ and gunned them down in the notorious ‘Valentines Day Massacre’
Shultz then contacted the hunters again, and met them in person, where h proceeded to whip out his Thompson .45 ‘Chicago Typewriter’ and gun them down.
Shultz then contacted the Blunted Fang, coined their group as a coordinator, and has worked for them ever since

name: slender von maun
age:310
gender:male
race/faction: Totenmaske/ loner
appearance: always wears a custom tailored business suit. Fancy black shoes too.
stats: WS-7/BS-5/S-6/W-3/I-9/A-3/SV-3+
Bio: a totenmaske of surprisingly gentle nature, he finds humans interesting and has enjoyed watching them throughout history. He eventually decided he wanted to experiment with how much his little meat sacks could take; both mentally and physically. So during the 2 great wars,he began such experiments. by Eating the recently dead,and taking on their skin, he drove drove some troop to suicide by haunting them and ripped others apart as they tried in vain to kill him. Eventually, he saw the world settle down and decided to take a more subtle approach to compensate. Taking on businessmen as prey, he learned to enjoy the art of money and made it into a game to see how much he could increase a companies profits before his skin melted off and he was forced to take on another form. His past with the vampire and werewolves is a small one. Why? Because he finds his 'brethren' and the changelings boring compared to the humans and stuck too staying out of their way and not giving them a reason to consider him in the way.

location- las vegas.



NPCs:

name: sarah good
age: 22
gender:female
race/faction: human,student of slender.
appearance:
stats: WS-2/BS-4/S-3/t-3/I-6/A-2/Sv-5+
-is fearless.
bio: coming from a bad home,she learned to be fearless from her abusive mother,who was later shot by her uncle who then shot her and her dad,and hung himself. she survived,but ended up homeless and jobless. after 3 year of barely getting by,she got a job in an underground 'supernatural investigation' clinic,were she learned the wonders of the undead. after a while the store was taken over by a gang and she ran with them in territory disputes. threw gun fights and near death experiences,she learned to love life and take what was given.

location: las vegas.

image pending.

In a game of chess you have to sacrifice a few pieces to get that satisfying checkmate on your opponent. The King was aware of this, although in the moment of sacrifice no one actually feels bad about the pieces they lose because everything is falling into place. Of course this all changes when you swap out pieces for people and a valuable Knight or Bishop for a beloved son or son.

Joker tongued the barrel of the gun in his mouth feeling the cold metal with his tongue and getting a faint taste of oil, and also maybe even...salt? He guessed the gun was dirty because after a while anything that went long enough without being cleaned began to taste of salt. He had had been captured by the Black Serpents while out on the strip drinking. It was a miracle they got away with it he thought to himself; there had been increased security on the strip since the shootings started. It made "business" harder, but not impossible.

"Ready to talk?" A voice came from somewhere in the room. Joker couldn't tell from his blindfold how many people were actually with him at the moment, or where he was for that matter. "I'm growing tired of you fething around with us." The voice sounded again.

Joker tried to say something but it just came out in a series of muzzled grunts. The man with the gun slowly pulled out it from from his mouth cautiously. Now, what were you trying to say now?" The man directly in front of him asked.

"That before I say anything I want this blindfold removed and to be untied." Joker demanded into what seemed to him like a room of darkness.

"Just the blindfold." A voice said from across the room again. "Do it." It commanded.

Joker heard footsteps circle him and as he undid the blindfold the room came into Joker's view. It was a not very well lit room on the top story of a very high building. He was facing a large glass window where he could see a few smaller buildings and the lights of the strip in the distance. Apparently they hadn't taken him very far from his capture. He wondered how long they had been here under the King's nose. The room was bare with almost nothing in it but an empty table next to the wall and his captures. There were three men surrounding him. The one with the gun in his hand was wearing a black leather jacket with the Serpent's emblem branded across it matching one of the other men in the room. The man who was making all the commands was a pale guy wearing very formal wear; A white dress shirt, black tie, black dress pants and a black jacket folded up on a chair next to him.

Joker fumbled around in the chair he was tied in for a few seconds trying to get comfortable but gave up deeming it as impossible. "So you must be the leader of the Black Serpents I presume." Joker asked addressing the man in the formal attire.

"You presume correctly mortal" He said continuing. "Your King tries to control everything thinking he can bully any who get his way."

"And why wouldn't he?" Joker retorted. "He has every judge and every politician in this state in his pocket. He has the power to make changes and the muscle to back it up."

"He trifles in things he can't possibly understand and his golden prince Joker dances to his tune, ready to obey every pull of the string no matter the consequence. You are pathetic mortal, you know you're being manipulated and still don't do anything about it."

"Mortal? You're a fething vampire aren't you. The Black Serpents aren't a gang...there a cult." Joker said coming to the realization.

"And finally one of the pest catches on. I watched how things unfolded and I was disgusted the most by you. When you know someone in manipulating you, yet make no attempt ot fight against it. You are perfectly content with being a tool, a pawn of someone else."

"I'm not being controlled!" Joker protested losing his cool for the first time in a while.

"You fancy yourself a player while every step is another persons decision or move to get ahead." As his captor finished his sentence something caught Joker's eye. On the rooftop in front of them he saw movement for a brief second. He watched carefully and there it was again. "So tell me human? What makes you so damn confident?"

"I have an ace in the hole." Joker said with a grin and look of relish on his face. The crack of a rifle sounded from outside followed by shattered glass. The round tore straight through the chest of one of the men behind him. The sound of gunfire erupted downstairs. A look of panic washed over the vampires face and he turned to Joker. "You swine!" he called out "You lead them straight to us!" Another shot sounded from outside and the neck of the vampire bursted open. He clutched at the recently opened hole in his neck and a look of dismay and anger showed on his face. It seemed as if he tried to say something but it came out in the sound of a gurgle.

"gak!" Joker yelled using all his strength to try to get out but it was no use. The maddened bloodthirsty kindred charged him full speed while his lackey ran to the window to try to get a sight on the sniper. But just as he faced the window he head exploded in a rain of gore sending chunks splattering onto the floor. The vampire looked him in the eyes with a look of menace and hate. Joker struggled more to get away from the vampire but could not. He leapt at him but at the moment joker jerked as hard as he could flipping his chair on the back. The kindred crashed into the leg of the chair sending him stumbling back for a moment. As he readied to finish his hostage off one last rifle crack came from outside bursting through the vampire's chest cavity with a wooden round this time and sent hims sprawling to the ground dead.

It wasn't long before the rest of the King's men finished off the Black Serpents and freed Joker. "You're lucky to be alive you know." Said Knight.

"I suppose I am." Said Joker. "How did you find me in the first place by the way?"

"We had put a tracker in the roof of your mouth" Said Knight. "We knew they were going to go after you so we used you to find their hideout and it worked like a charm." He said confidently.

"How did you get a tracker implanted in the roof of my mouth without me knowing" Joker asked curiously as they walked out.

"You snore." Stated Knight.

OOC: Damn...was hoping for first intro post...

San Francisco, Present Day.

He ran...It was all he could do...he was outnumbered...they had killed them all...all of his brothers, the only thing he could do was run and hope for some unholy miracle to save him...

Through the back roads of apartments and shanty houses, away from the parking garage where this horrid night had started. He was just a courier, just supposed to hand off the package. The thought reminded him of the briefcase attached to his wrist with handcuffs. He didn't spare it a glance because then he would be tempted to look behind him and he knew what was behind him would just make him panic even more than he was already. Sweat poured down his face, he was hyperventilating, adrenaline rushed through his old veins. Never in his service to the kindred had he been this close to oblivion. He remembered how the night had gone, flashes of the blood curdling memories filtered into his strained mind as he ran down dark streets only lit by scant few streetlights and inhabited only by stray animals and refuse rats...

He had been ordered to take this package, this briefcase he'd gotten at the drop off sight in China town down here to the Mission district and hand it off to...well, he hadn't been told who, but he knew they were kindred as well and he knew this package was important. So important in fact that he wasn't allowed to open it, just to hand it off. He'd been there tonight, the basement of the parking garage a few blocks away now. He'd been there when a Juli master escorted by his two Opirk's and a ring of other Dhampyre's like him had arrived in black unmarked vehicles and the two had gone to exchange the package...and then...and then...

And then hell...hell everywhere...He shuddered to think about what he'd seen and heard and felt in that garage...

They materialized from the shadows, a dozen at least, snarling, howling, charging, talons outstretched and fangs bared...frazzled, furred bodies lined with muscle and fueled by an animalistic rage and beastly intelligence...gunshots echoed, the lights had been shot out. He'd ducked for cover, crawled out of the way of the screams and the sickening crunching noises followed by putrid splatters of something's vital fluids, he remembered getting hit in the face by something wet as the snarling and howling continued. He ran, got back to his car, turned it on and raced it as fast out of there as he could...

He'd gotten maybe one block out when he saw something he swore he would keep until his dying day. A shape, a lithe, bounding shape was galloping along the rooftops of the street next to him and he could only stre in horrid fascination as the shape launched itself from the roof down onto his car and caused it to swerve dizzily until it crashed into a telephone pole and knocked him cold. When he'd woken up he was sore all over and was sure he'd broken something, his face was still wet but he hadn't yet had time to check if that was his own blood or something else's...

And so he had run...that was all he could do...run and hope he'd given those beasts the slip...

He stopped at an intersection to catch his breath, the growling and howling he'd heard earlier had gone but still he could not shake the feeling that something was following him. He had to throw the beast's off his trail. He searched frantically and finally found an alley, bounding off into it in the hopes that it would confuse his pursuers. The darkness around him was so thick he could have cut it with a kife, he couldn't see anything in front of him and in his panicked haste he ran into a garbage can and tipped it over with a loud clang. He nearly fell but was able to right himself mid fall and made a mad dash for the alley exit, the more distance he could put from his pursuers the better...

He was finally getting somewhere, he breathed easier now, realizing he wasn't being followed anymore...as he moved he wondered about the pack that had attacked them, perhaps they had just been a loose assortment of underworld pups, looking for an easy meal. Yes, that was it, and he'd made it out to be such a big deal, he almost chuckled to himself as he panted with the thought. He was going to live tonight...he was going to--

He turned a corner in the alley system to be greeted by a dead end...he swallowed but his dry throat wouldn't let him the simple relief of a fearful gesture...

growling...low growling...behind him... He spun around, whipping his pistol out and pointing it at the shape that stood in the alley entrance. It held one of its long arms out and drug its claws against the brick wall of one of the ally's sides. The moon above them cast a shadow over its huge form but outlined its figure so that he could see its silhouette. It raised its lupine head and snarled at him, inching forwards on its two long legs as its tail twitched behind it. He could feel the panic welling up in him again, the hyperventilation, he knew he was in a very bad place, he knew he was probably going to die...

"Stay back, This thing's loaded with silver!" He said futilely as he pointed the pistol at the wolf form at the end of the alley. It suddenly stopped and he could have sworn if the creature was capable of doing so it was smiling. It looked at him with its animal eyes and mouthed growling words that shook him to his core.

"It's not me you should be worried about." The beast said...

Before he could open his mouth again...something landed behind him...something big...it shadowed him from the slim light of the moon and pure fear shot up his spine as he knew what he would see when he turned around...

And he knew that he was probably going to die...that it would be the last thing he saw...

The giant of a beast towered over him, a wall of scarred animal muscle and gruff fur all topped off by a huge maw filled with fangs and two massive canines, its black eyes looked down on him with hate. Two thick arms were ended in massive paws with dagger talons jetting from each finger...

It was quiet possibly the closest he'd ever been to a wolf...briefly he tried to think of something to say but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a scream that was quickly silenced with a slash of claws.

The lanky wolf watched as the massively bulked one dug its claws into the dhampyre's chest unceremoniously and ripped its black heart from the ribcage then squeezed it with no force of will until it burst into blood before throwing it over his shoulder where it landed with a wet smack. The two beasts were silent as the big one detached the kindred's hand from his arm, the one that had the handcuff around it. The big scarred wolf tossed the other one the briefcase with a grunt and then took a few moments to change back into his human form. The big wolf stretched his neck and arms as if he'd just finished exercising and then kneeled down to the body as the lanky wolf watched.

The big wolf smirked as he reached behind him and gripped the handle of the knife, bringing out its wickedly long and broad blade. The lanky wolf marveled each time that knife was brought out, to say it was a large knife was an understatement, it might as well have been a short sword as the blade was almost two feet long by itself. The big wolf took the dhampyre's lifeless neck in his hand and used the serrated side of the knife to saw into it as if he was a butcher carving a piece of choice cut. the lanky wolf scowled as this was going.

"Tell me again why you do this?" It asked as it too became human again. The big wolf did not look from its work and concentrated on moving the blade back and forth.

"There once was a man named Kanak." He said in his gruff yet calm voice. "A man who was really a lycan, my father spent his life bringing him down and only did so after sacrificing his own. This Kanak was ancient, a piece of the great Khan's cast empire and one of his lieutenants, they called him 'Kanak the Skull Taker.' Because he had the habit of taking his enemies skulls from their bodies and mounting them outside his tent."

The big wolf got finished with his work and held up the severed head as if examining a collectable item.

"So that anyone who came close would know, be he friend or enemy, just what the man could do." The big wolf finished as other figures arrived in the alley also.

"Report." The big wolf said sternly.

"All enemies accounted for, all dead, Jacob will live but Kaleb didn't make it." one of the figures said as it arrived and tossed the big wolf an object which he caught deftly

"Ah, well, he was a decent fighter." The big wolf said managing to sound as if he didn't care about his dead comrade as he donned the fedora he was tossed and picked up his jacket and put that on as well.

"So that's 'Bloody Zack'? Doesn't look too menacing, humanni will make up all sorts of damn stories." Another figure asked, examining the head the big wolf held in his arms and comparing it to a picture.

"We got what we came for and that's always good, clean up this mess and lets go, the cops are probably halfway here already." The big wolf said as he exited the alley and was followed by the lanky one who had also redressed after their stint in their beastly forms. "That move with the car, that was quick thinking, I like that, I think you're starting to get it." The big wolf said lowly to the lanky one simply grumbled under his breath. The big wolf didn't care, he knew the message had been received, his great grandson just wasn't a big talker was all. "What do you think that car was going, fifty, sixty miles an hour?" The big wolf asked, the lanky one continued to stride, not answering him, the big wolf just smirked at his comrades silence.

The lanky wolf looked down at the head that the big wolf held and then looked back ahead of him for a few moments before speaking.

"Another head for the walls?" He asked as if annoyed...The big wolf smiled, they were going to play this game again...that was alright...

"Nope, the basketball back home is flat and I need a replacement." The big wolf said flippantly, obviously sarcastic. "C'mon, we still have a job to do." He said as behind them the other figures walked out of the alley with a body bag between them and dumped it into a black SUV that sat at the back of a small convoy of vehicles which was headed by a black motorcycle.

"How's it feel?" The big wolf asked the lanky one as he sat on his bike.

"How's what feel?" The other one responded as he opened the door to his muscle car.

"To have finished something you started?" The big wolf called back cheerily and indicated the briefcase before throttling the bike into raucous life and beginning the convoy's trek back out of the city.

(wow, this is what a almost page transfers to? i feel ashamed to have written so little. )

“and so in conclusion,you will see a 20% increase in profit,and put several other chip companies out of business.” as clapping erupted, slender bowed and walked out. damn,only 20%? im loosing my touch... slender thought as he messed with his jaw. having a mouth was odd, and he still wasn’t used to it. As he headed for the exit,he nodded and said bye to his fellow workers. foolish humans,ill be gone tomorrow. his skin was almost out of time. Stepping out into the lights of las vegas,slender sighed. Humans never ceased to throw something new at him. When he had 1st come here,he had never expected some much lighting. Walking along,he looked around. Good, no one was watching. Quickly slipping into an ally,he straightened his tie. Pulling out his booklet,he checked the names on his list. What company would get his expertise this week? After think on it,he looked up and took another left. As he arrived at his good old home of an abandoned warehouse,slender smiled. Another thing he never understood. His mouth always wanted to show emotion when he wore skin.

Sitting down on an old recliner, he flicked the last bits of rotting flesh off his face. It felt good to be free again. Opening his booklet up again,he scanned I one last time. Smiling he closed it and put it up. A butcher company CEO. Now this would be fun. Slipping out and into the shadows, he climbed up onto the roofs. Jumping from building to building,he was thankful and annoyed at the signs. One second they hid him,the next they made threw him into a spotlight. Arriving at his targets house, he jumped down int the alley,scaring a hobo out of his wits.

“shhhhh...” he said to the poor human,who wet himself and fainted. He waited,and waited,until slender saw poor old charles walk out for his nightly walk. “hey, ~charles!~” he called out in a whisper. Charles stopped,and turned. When he saw slender,his eye went wide. Quick as any predator,slender shot out his arms and pulled charles into the shadows. “shhh....” he whispered,holding his mouth closed as he plunged his fingers into the mans gut. Charles tried to scream,but couldn’t. Within half a minute it was over. Straightening his tie, slender,no,charles now, picked up the slouchy remains and climbed up back to the roofs. After taking everything he would need to be charles,he headed back to the warehouse. Walking in,he smiled. Damnit,he needed to learn how to stop that. Throwing the remains into the furnace, he sat down, and took out his booklet. With another annoying smile,he eased charles name from the list. Putting up the booklet again,he took up his book sitting on the stand next to him. He still had 30 minutes before charles had to be home,so why not read? After a few pages,he giggled. Another human thing. “this person is a horrible biologist. Vampires dont sparkle. Silly human must of studied sweaty Dhampyre.” nodding,he closed it and threw it in the furnace. “one day I shall find that author and eat them. The world would thank me for killing such a fool.” standing up,he brushed off his shoulders. “well charles,your wife is waiting,and your girls need tucking in. shall we go?” laughing, slender,no,charles, headed out.

The Incents filled Illuminatus’s brain with a wave of intoxicating thoughts. The world was now dissolving around him. This was a normal feeling for his visions, in this state he just let his mind wonder and traveled though the Veil.

“Are we really going to need this guy?” Bjorn wasn’t so fawned of mages like Illuminatus, always tripping on about metaphysical, saying that nothing is objective and therefore no can be truly right, and making him very difficult to argue with.

Illuminatus was one of the few solo mages that haven’t be corrupted but now he has been living in a rundown apartment that happens to also be the home of gangs, junkies and the occasional ‘down on his luck’ artist. Clearly now that kind of people a mage would want to be with but Illuminatus had a way of forgetting that there were people around.

Sophie cringed as she saw a thin woman shooting heroin into the veins between her toes, Sophie then turned her attention back to Bjorn “Yes, we are going to need him” Sophie argued “His is the only other mage in the area that can help us.” It was a wonder that she was able to catch Bjorn at a time like this. All three have worked together in the past but Illuminatus was always doing that same thing away from everyone else and he never talked to the other mages

The Veil was now strong in room. Illuminatus could now feels every ripple and wave in the world around him something that has always brought him comfort but this time it only gave him an imagine of looming danger in the Veil. Corruption and dark thoughts now plagued this world. Corruption was a common fear for mages but now the Vale was flooded with negative thoughts and twisted imagines. His mind was now throbbing, like something was trying to intrude his thoughts.

Bjorn’s strides were starting to become faster and Sophie was being left behind him “Hold on, Bjorn!”

Bjorn looked back to her “Then speed up, I can sense something following us!”

Sophie’s face turned pale and she started to jag to catch up with Bjorn but he was now running. Sophie was in starting to panic as she was about to bolt but she stopped herself when she was two men armed with SMGs standing at the bashed down door of Illuminatus’s apartment while a tall robed man made his way in.

Illuminatus’s vision was starting to feel more sickening. He was starting to feel suffocated as dark things in the Veil started to close in on him. His breath started to become visible as the room became colder. His lungs were starting to feel heavy as he felt some crawl up his spine as if it were under the skin. A dark figure was starting to appear in his vision; it stretched its hand out, aiming an object at Illuminatus’s face.

The two men spotted Bjorn and Sophie and aimed their weapons. Sophie was able to leap around the corner before the men started to fire; Bjorn was caught in the hale of fire. Sophie only heard the guns going off but she knew Bjorn wasn’t getting out of this one. She reached down, pulled out a glock and held it up ready to fire but her body was trebling with fear, never had she been in this position, she felt like she was one of those hunters that throw themselves into danger for the hell of it.

The robed men went flying out of the Illuminatus’s door way. He fell to the ground with a large burnt opening in his chest; he squirmed around for a moment and died. The two men took cover as the saw their friend go flying. They both made eye contact with each other and nodded. One went into the room while one went after Sophie.

Sophie was still hiding around the corner stunned with fear. Then Guruhi’s voice rang in her head “Death is their only retribution!” Soon a surge of energy filled her body. The man inched his was to where Sophie was hiding with his gun clenched in his hand. He stopped still holding his position and waited. In a moment Sophie aimed her gun around the corner and shot a few rounds into his leg. Pain surged through his body as he fell to the ground. Sophie emerged from hiding. She had a different look in her eyes, the man was trying to grab his gun as she made her way to him but Sophie raised her gun and shot him in the head.

The last gunman set foot into Illuminatus’s apartment. It was very small, the kitchen looked fairly normal but all the walls were lined with book shelves and any blank areas on the walls call had symbols carved into them, most common are flowers with eyeballs bursting out of them. The gunman tried to keep his cool as he searched for the mage but the eye wouldn’t stop staring at the wall. Soon he was aiming his weapon at everything that would move, jumping at the most faint of sounds. Then a loud sound started to be heard to his left. He turned to his left and started to unload his gun but all did was leave a bunch of hole in the wall. He was trying to catch his breath and then he felt a sharp bolt of pain strike his back, he fell to the ground as another bolt hit him, killing him.

Illuminatus’s walked out into the hallway and saw Sophie standing over a dead man. Her body was trebling but she held a stern look on his face. Looking a Bjorn’s body, he was still breathing and only took a few bullets but he was bleeding
“I was hoping that ghouls looked a bit more…ghoulish.”

“The creatures of the night wear many skins.” Illuminatus looked down at the bodies and saw Bjorn’s body in the mix, while he was not too great of friends with Bjorn he was glad to see that he was doing fine.

Sophie soon started took be normal but the bodies will creeped her out and her hands were still trembling. “We need to get out of here, the police will be coming.”

Illuminatus shook his head “Don’t fret, I put a ward over this domain, the guardian’s of the law won’t be coming here, no sound will travel out of here.”

“Why would you need a ward…? Never mind. We need to get Bjorn somewhere safe” She started to put pressure Bjorn’s wounds and tried to stop the bleeding. Illuminatus nodded, lifted Bjorn’s body and headed down to the streets.

lord commissar klimino wrote:(wow, this is what a almost page transfers to? i feel ashamed to have written so little. )

“and so in conclusion,you will see a 20% increase in profit,and put several other chip companies out of business.” as clapping erupted, slender bowed and walked out. damn,only 20%? im loosing my touch... slender thought as he messed with his jaw. having a mouth was odd, and he still wasn’t used to it. As he headed for the exit,he nodded and said bye to his fellow workers. foolish humans,ill be gone tomorrow. his skin was almost out of time. Stepping out into the lights of las vegas,slender sighed. Humans never ceased to throw something new at him. When he had 1st come here,he had never expected some much lighting. Walking along,he looked around. Good, no one was watching. Quickly slipping into an ally,he straightened his tie. Pulling out his booklet,he checked the names on his list. What company would get his expertise this week? After think on it,he looked up and took another left. As he arrived at his good old home of an abandoned warehouse,slender smiled. Another thing he never understood. His mouth always wanted to show emotion when he wore skin.

Sitting down on an old recliner, he flicked the last bits of rotting flesh off his face. It felt good to be free again. Opening his booklet up again,he scanned I one last time. Smiling he closed it and put it up. A butcher company CEO. Now this would be fun. Slipping out and into the shadows, he climbed up onto the roofs. Jumping from building to building,he was thankful and annoyed at the signs. One second they hid him,the next they made threw him into a spotlight. Arriving at his targets house, he jumped down int the alley,scaring a hobo out of his wits.

“shhhhh...” he said to the poor human,who wet himself and fainted. He waited,and waited,until slender saw poor old charles walk out for his nightly walk. “hey, ~charles!~” he called out in a whisper. Charles stopped,and turned. When he saw slender,his eye went wide. Quick as any predator,slender shot out his arms and pulled charles into the shadows. “shhh....” he whispered,holding his mouth closed as he plunged his fingers into the mans gut. Charles tried to scream,but couldn’t. Within half a minute it was over. Straightening his tie, slender,no,charles now, picked up the slouchy remains and climbed up back to the roofs. After taking everything he would need to be charles,he headed back to the warehouse. Walking in,he smiled. Damnit,he needed to learn how to stop that. Throwing the remains into the furnace, he sat down, and took out his booklet. With another annoying smile,he eased charles name from the list. Putting up the booklet again,he took up his book sitting on the stand next to him. He still had 30 minutes before charles had to be home,so why not read? After a few pages,he giggled. Another human thing. “this person is a horrible biologist. Vampires dont sparkle. Silly human must of studied sweaty Dhampyre.” nodding,he closed it and threw it in the furnace. “one day I shall find that author and eat them. The world would thank me for killing such a fool.” standing up,he brushed off his shoulders. “well charles,your wife is waiting,and your girls need tucking in. shall we go?” laughing, slender,no,charles, headed out.

I liked it. The part about a waiting wife and children that need tucking in creeped me out.

darksage wrote: I liked it. The part about a waiting wife and children that need tucking in creeped me out.

hey thanks! and hey,if he is too live as charles,he needs to know all the..details.

Player: Chowderhead
Character: Musater
Race/Affiliation: Nrajah, All ties have been severed.
Physical Description: 6’6”, wears a suit everywhere he goes, He is missing his ring and pink on his left hand, and is covered by scars and still healing wounds. Ancient Tattoos of a long lost land cover his back and shoulders.
Equipment: Esmerella’s .45 caliber beast, “The Widowmaker”, a M4 carbine w/ strobe light attachment, wooden ammunition, a wallet containing the fortune of a thousand plundered cities, machete strapped to his thigh.
Backstory: Born in 1383, Musater was placed into this world in a small village in the deep woods of Transylvania. When he was in his 30s, his sister got lost in the deep woods. When he went after her, he found her dead on the forest floor, a few weeks after she left. Whilst carrying her corpse back to their village,, she re-animated, and bit her brother before running off. Stumbling around in the woods, he began to black out. When he awoke, he was stronger, taller, and had a lust for the flesh of his former kin. He was the son of the Lycan King’s brother, Longar. With his sister and his “father”, he would become one of the world’s greatest assassins and influence nations, continents, and even planets with his kills. While living in Prague, he received a package in the mail. His sister's head. As the newly elected Mayor of Prague's assistant (Thanks to his very powerful ties with his fellow Lycaelons), he has begun a secret war against the people who killed his sister. This war, however, led him to some horrific discoveries of both himself and of the world around him. He went on some search and capture missions for Natasha, but after completing them, he went rogue, killing Natasha’s highest general with two silver bullets to the head. Using a Pureblood as bait, he tried to lure out more of Natasha’s men so he could get answers. However, the plan went horribly wrong, and the kidnapped Pure Blood escaped, and his wife died. With no-one to turn to but his recently summoned Father, he broke down. That breakdown was interrupted when the God of the Hunt, Cernunnos, came and whisked him away. He planted him into an area full of Wolves and hunters alike, and told him to make allies before the impending war. Musater agreed, and made allies with Dez, Carl, Harlow, and Holly. They tried to get hunters to help them, but they would not join them. At the time of the final battle, he gave Dez, Carl, Harlow, and Holly the keys to the armoury and to a MRAP, a mighty armoured car. After they left, Longar and Musater flew around the world, in search of old allies. They only found piles of bodies and skeletons in long-forgotten graves. Having no-where else to turn to, they decided to find the last ally they had.

Vice: Ira
Virtue: Temperantia

Primary Safehouse: Nowhere. Nowhere is safe.
Primary Vehicle: His feet, and things he steals.

Special Rules: Musater always has an even head, and as such, he can always control when he changes into a Wolf.






Character King Longar the Mighty-Fanged, the King of all of the Lycans, Master of the Hunt, Warlord of the North, Slaughterer of the Trankas, Hunter of the Vile
Race and clan/archetype : Hyperiona (The Royal Family), All ties cut.
Physical Description: 9'8, Ancient Viking Warrior Garb.
Equipment: 10 Throwing Axes, Hand Axe (Silver) and Sword (Steel)
Backstory: Born somewhere in an icy wilderness, the brother of the Heir to the throne of the Lycans, he was always fighting to stay somewhat in power. Whnen he would kill a hundred vile Kindred, his brother would always kill twice fold. When he left to go to greener pastures, he found a young woman wandering the woods. He turned her, and took her under his wing. When he found her brother, he turned him as well. The three hunted as a pack for hundreds of years. They would take down "Rogue Elements" in the world of the Kindred and the Lycan. Many of the high profile kills were preformed by the three over the past few hundred years, until around the 1800's. When Longar got word of the massacre, he left the siblings to go deal with the rest of his family. He got trapped in a cursed cabin known as Pandora's Box by a Succubus, where the ale always flowing, and he never wanted to leave. He was pulled from the prison by an accidental messenger, and was sent back to his only child, the rebellious Musater, one of the assassins. Together, they have spent the last year searching for old allies and lost friends. All, however, were either dead or mad. There was only one person they could go to, and unfortunately, she was in a very Crooked place...

Other info: His emotions are somehow very exaggerated and somehow are able to influence the world around him. When he laughs, the area around him becomes brighter and seems more happy. When he is angered, the area around him is darker, colder, and more terrifying.

Virtue- Lovable oaf: It is impossible to hate Longar. His most hated enemies even have a soft spot for the old timer.

Vice- Paw over Hand: Longar feels more comfortable in his towering wolf form than his human form, and he changes as some of the most inopportune times. Like lunch.

WS:10 BS:0 (3) S:8 T:8 A:4 I:5 Sv: 3+ Ld 10

Special Rules:
Warlord of the North: Due to the sheer amount of time he has spent as a wolf in the blizzards, he has gained an almost blind sight. He is never affected by sight modifiers.
Trigger? Can't I just throw it at him?: Longar hasn't yet learned how to operate modern firearms, and shows no motivation to. He may never use a gun, only throw hand weapons.

Notes: Longar is a bit on the mad side, so when RP'ing him, he seems to always be in a good mood. Bear that in mind. When he heads off to battle, he goes into a Berzerker rage, and kills everything he sees, aside from members of his own party, and allies parties. Civilians, kids, grandmas walking across the street, doesn't matter. Hand axe to the face!







Character: Fenrir
Class: Arch Mage
Faction: Prodigy
Schools: Umbra
Physical Description: About 5' 2", Black Hair, hands have been stained a mild shade of red.
Equipment: Shotgun, 30 slugs, 15 buckshot, and whatever she can scavenge from her kills.
Backstory: Born into a family of morticians, she became obsessed with cadavers. The shape, the feel, the study of the corpses occupied all her spare time. She didn't need friends. She had the basement full of bodies. Of course, spending every free moment of your life in a stuffy room filled with corpses isn't great for one's sanity. At the age of 14, she snapped, went mad, and added another friend to her basement of fellows. Sooner or later, she had a few more friends. The friends where from all over. India, Turkey, China, even one from Australia! How cool is that! The New Zealander would get jealous, and the two would have fights. She would stop them, of course, but they would always argue. Then, she would talk to her parents. Oh how lovely they looked, lying on the metal beds, necks open. She had dissected them over a hundred times, and could tell her mother's spleen from her fathers. She would brag about this to the Chinaman, who would always compliment her. Then she met the Norseman.

He was possessed by the son of the Trickster God, Loki. He told her she could get more friends if she asked him for help. She asked how, and he said he only needed a single kiss. The two embraced, a disturbed 16 year old, and God. The switch was complete before the little girl noticed. With a fresh new body, Fenrir could continue living. He would survive until the Ragnarok, when he would destroy the world. Before then, however, he can only use the charms and spells he stole from Odin. Oh, the spells. How he loved them.

The police would notice, and eventually, they would arrest the girl. It would be a media firestorm, but Fenrir didn't care. He would survive. Thrown away into a cell with armed guards everywhere was nothing. He would outlive them all. His plans, however, took a change to the better when a couple of men helped him out. He signed a paper saying he wouldn't hurt them. He meant it. They were wolves like him. However, he had a very large advantage over them.

His deaths were only a minor delay. Theirs would be a stop.

Other Info: Fenrir always refers to himself in the masculine, even though he is in a feminine body. He has no fear, and cares little for those who aren't Longar and Musater.

Virtue: Mercy- He won't go around killing everyone. He knows their fates, and what he will do to them at the end times. He gives them the ability to live their lives.

Unless provoked, Fenrir won't kill anyone.

Vice: Sociopathic- Fenrir has a a pervasive pattern of disregard for, and violation of, the rights of others. In other words, he doesn't give a gak.

Arch Mage
WS-4/BS-4/S-4/T-4/W-2/I-5/A-2/Sv-3+/ MB + 6





That's all for now. Final NPC will come up, and then I will begin in earnest.

Name: Suzie Fletcher
Race: A vampyre of the house of Juli
Covenant: Unaligned
Appearance: 5’10” Thin, medium length Black Hair, In shape
Age: 27
Background: Suzie had led a normal life in Empire City for 23 years, nothing supernatural or extraordinary had ever happened to her, she had trained to be a beautician and succeed. She had her job and like jogging and partying with her friends at the weekend. That was until she was snatched by something on a night out. A creature burst from a sewer next to her and took, that creature was the Vampyre Longinus of House Juli, the Gladiator. He embraced and taught her about the secret war between her race and the Lycans, he taught her the skills to survive in Vampyric culture and society. She learned to be strong and how to fight, she became proficient with her house’s weapons and their methods. She helped his plans along with Isaac, a ghoul of her master’s. Eventually Longinus made a blind error and his plans crumbled where they stood, as a result Pontius the chief Vampyre had to take action. Harsh thought it was. Longinus lost his life for his actions, which where disrupted by Andy Bruss, head of the Empire City’s Hunter cell at the time. Suzie still blames him for the death of Longinus which he had inadvertently caused. In the end Suzie along with Isaac and another Companion fled to Prague where Suzie believed that she would find Juli, patron of her blood line and her grandsire. In Prague she did find what she sought, she entered the crooked house and continued to learn first hand about Vampyric society. When the attack on Natasha’s palace came to place she fought along side many of her kin, a Black Claw gave her a scar across her abdomen before she gutted him in return. When the fighting was over and open war declared she went back to Empire City to help assist the remaining Vampyres there and help them at least harry the Hunters that hold the rebuilding city.
Equipment: She now lives in a rented flat near the city centre of Empire City. She has her red Juli cloak along with a silvered spear and a shield hidden in her closet behind a false wall. She also carries a Saturday night special for “protection”. She still has a fair amount of money left from her grandaftehr
NPCs: None so far
Virtue: Diligence – since the events that have happened to her she seeks to keep to her task and not get distracted like she ahs in the past.
Vice: Wrath – If anyone harms her friends she will seek retriubution.
Blood Magyk: Crimson Mist,


Got onto thre internet at a hostel but am leaving in roughly 2 hours and won´t have access for another two weeks, enjoy it you guys

So Fitzz, how long has it been since the second Blood Moon?

Player: marmaduke

Character: Florence Rawson
Race/affiliation: Opriknikki no affiliation
Physical Description: male, no beard, age forgotten it’s been so long, 8ft tall, grey skin, ice blue eyes and crimson red hair, can usually be found wearing pants and that’s about it
Equipment: hands, switchblade and a steel suitcase lined with lead filled with drugs?

Backstory: been traveling the world killing stuff… what else is there to do. Flaws/Vice:
Annoying: title says it all just when you think it cant become any worse this guy makes it worse
Flaw: fond of all forms of alcohol


Virtues:
honor: ounce this vamp has taken a job it gets done. Afterwards though everything is fair game

Truthful: will never lie outright

Location/resources: las vegas

Vehicle: what is this death trap you speak of

halonachos wrote:So Fitzz, how long has it been since the second Blood Moon?

1 year bro

stepping out of the shadow of a building Florence looks at the moon

"what is going on with this world?"

"Where am I?"

covered in blood he looks looks around trying to figure out where he is .
behind him lies the remains of his last meal a human female...or well just her hands. blood splattered on the walls of the alley way

looking up at the moon he lets out a desperate cry of anger

with this he turns back into the alley and sulks away hoping for yet another victim anything to ease the pain of not knowing anything but his name

anything to stop the craving for blood and meat

he disappears into the dark and all that is heard is the shutting of a door and a muffled scream

darksage wrote:

halonachos wrote:So Fitzz, how long has it been since the second Blood Moon?

1 year bro

Only one? That sucks, hmm.... how did Andy end up owning all of Oregon in only one year. Oh and Fitzz, I'm sorry but Andy has to kill Natasha now.

halonachos wrote:

darksage wrote:

halonachos wrote:So Fitzz, how long has it been since the second Blood Moon?

1 year bro

Only one? That sucks, hmm.... how did Andy end up owning all of Oregon in only one year. Oh and Fitzz, I'm sorry but Andy has to kill Natasha now.

Not if I get to her first, mate.

Six Months Ago


"Musater. You can't get into there." Loanna sat down at the table. It was 3 AM, and Musater came home covered in blood. Again. The worst part was the stench. He smelled like death and fear. Not his, but his foes. It got everywhere, and they don't make enough febreeze to get rid of it.

"No one said I planned on it." He hung his jacket on the rack, blood soaked. Loosening his tie, he went to get a bottle of beer.

"Musater. Come on now, we all know what you were doing out there." She pointed to the blood covered Ski-Boots. He gave a smirk, and responded.

"I stepped on a rabbit." He opened the bottle with his teeth, and took a swig.

"You stepped on a rabbit 6 times this month. And then you rolled around in the blood of..." She eyed his sanguine covered apparel. "12 rabbits. So, Musater, what were you doing."

He sat down at the table. Loanna sat down with him, grabbing herself another Shipyard. "I found him. The one who told me how to get in."

Her smirk faded as she realized the graveness of the situation. "You killed a Cross-Over?" She leaned back and took a swig. "Nice work. You've got a instant 30 million bounty on your head."

He smiled, and took another sip. He had been in Beverly for a few weeks now, with Longar searching for Ingone over in Italy. He was probably dead, but he was the last one they could turn to besides her. Musater had been searching for a method to enter the Crooked World, and had found one. His name was Sergio, and he was 28.

**********


The sound of the bone crunching filled the port at night. Sergio Antones was already bleeding from the stakes in his arms, pinning him to the mast of an old Schooner. He felt his ribs shatter as the man kicked him again. His boots, made for skis, were heavy. They impacted his chest at speeds faster than he could imagine. Serigio tried to scream, but he couldn't breathe.

"Mr. Sergio. You haven't answered my question." He lit a cigarette, his gimp hand flicking open the lighter. It showed a brief glimpse of his abductor. Tall, handsome, and without a glimmer of empathy in his eyes. This man was a professional, thought Sergio. He was trained by his father on how to deal with torturers, but the training ment nothing. He could hold his breath for minutes, had built up scar tissue around pressure points so that they weren't affected as much, and learned how to withstand cigar burns. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for what this man was doing to him. The stakes to pin him up were so painful when they went in, he passed out again from the pain. He was woken up by the breaking of his jawbone, via a pair of Ski boots.

"You haven't asked a question..." He talked, blood flowing from his mouth.

"I know." He smiled as he slammed Sergio in the testicles. The scream that he let out was not of this earth. It was a scream of unimaginable pain and suffering. "Now, I will ask the question. Besides the Crooked House, how does one get to your dimension?"

Sergio spit the blood in his mouth at his assailant. "Go feth yourself." Wiping the blood from his face, he smiled. He began to laugh, and doubled over in enjoyment. Sergio became scared, more then when he had been kidnapped by those rebel humans. At least they assured him he wouldn't die. He looked back down at the laughing man. He was gone. The laughing, however, continued. Sergio began to cry a bit, but stopped. You mustn't show weakness. It will only egg him on further.

"I have killed more people than days you have been alive. You think that holding out will stop you from telling me?" The voice was coming from everywhere, and somehow, nowhere. He couldn't pinpoint the location, and began to cry in earnest. He tried to stop, but failed.

The small flame of the lighter lit the room around him. The lighter was on the floor, no owner, no visible person who lit it. He recognized it, through blurry eyes, as his kindappers. That's when the growling began. It started as a slow rumble, but grew to a massive roar. That's when he noticed the eyes in the corner. They flickered with the movement of the lighter. The eyes, blood red, began to move closer and closer to Sergio. He began to pray to Cain, but to no avail. The wolf was right infront of him. 9 feet tall, and covered in dark brown fur. Sergio began to speak of what the wolf seeked, but he could only speak in tongues.

"The city of Neon and Shadows. Go down the Rabbit Hole and find Alice. Get her to make a White Rabbit, and you will enter our lands!" He screamed, blood spurting from his mouth and onto the Wolf.

But the wolf was gone. Instead, was the man who kidnapped him. More blood soaked him, and he was lighting the cigarette, a new one this time.

"Thanks. For your help, I'll kill you slowly." He cut a hole into the tarp above Sergio, and duct taped his mouth shut. "When the clock strikes 12, you will burn for your crimes against our world."

Sergio screamed through his gag. "What did I do?!?!?"

The man, with red eyes, turned around.

"You entered our lands." He tossed the cigarette on the ground, extinguishing the last light Sergio would ever see before the sun fried him.

Nice, will get my stuff together asap, and get posting. Might replace this post with my Character info at a later date.

Either way, glad to get going again.


edit -

Got pic up, but still working on intial posts and character sheets.





Well it wouldn't be right if I actually starting rping before page 5.

Just want to take a quick moment to say I'm happy to see all ( well most) of my Vets back...and also to welcome those of you who are new to the Blood Moon story...

I've got a lot of my usual craziness planned for everyone...and I hope everyone enjoys themselves...I know I will.

Oh joy. FITZZ is insane once again.

Also, I'm watching the Devil's Rejects for the first time on Monday.

(First OT post! Woo!)

It had been only a year, Andy lay on their bed sleeping after an early morning punishment for what he had done. Wendy stood in the doorway and frowned at the muddy foot prints that he had tracked in, but smirked when she saw that he hadn't even bothered to take the mud covered boots off before collapsing face forward on the bed. She would have yelled at him in normal circumstances, but she knew what he was doing early in the morning, well before the light of the sun had even begun to kiss the frost on the grass. It had been a year since he had become a wolf, and it had only been two months since she had. Their mostly happy life interrupted by an assassin sent after them, Wendy remembered her face well because she had been pinned against the floor by her and the wolf had turned human just to taunt her with actual human words. That was before Andy barged into the room with the silver platter Wendy's mother had given them as a wedding gift. Thinking back, she remembered how resourceful Andy was, he was wearing an oven mitt with a quiet farming scene on it on his left hand so he could hold the platter and not hurt himself. She remembered him clenching his teeth as he held the plate against the wolf's face and the screams, oh the screams... they stopped and were followed by a clattering of the platter in a sick, blackened mixture of the would be assassin's melted skin, brain, and whatever else a wolf had in their head. She remembered Andy asking if the kids were okay, she remembered nodding as Andy looked at the gaping hole in her stomach that began to stain the hard wood floor with her blood. She remembered Andy calling Claudius and telling him what happened. Then she remembered that it was Micheal's birthday today. She walked quietly into their room and towards their closet where presents wrapped in blues and greens hid under a heavy leather jacket. She carefully pulled them out, not wanting to wake neither Andy nor the twins sleeping in their cribs, and walked into the kitchen with them. Their new house was smaller than their old one, but it was "free" and large enough to accommodate a larger family. Claudius had wanted them to have six children, but seeing as though they were both werewolves now they were forbidden from having further children.


It didn't bother Wendy that much, being pregnant with two half werewolves had been incredibly uncomfortable and she thought that Claudius had done something to her like Pontius had in order for her to fulfill the quota they had been given. Andy said that Claudius denied doing anything and in fact was upset that Pontius had done something to her with Micheal because the magic could mess with the children. She returned her thoughts to the present and placed the presents on the table, the smell of fresh coffee was in the air and soon Andy would wake up, walk into the kitchen, give her a kiss, and grab a cup of coffee before they started talking. They were still quite happy though, Claudius had been a little more than helpful and almost seemed happy to help them out with their situation. He had moved them into a house in his compound, he had given them a monthly stipend still, he had given them a new life that was almost better than anything they could have ever hoped for. The one thing he didn't give them though was heating for the house, but then again none of the other human houses had heating either. Out of all the buildings only two of them had heating, the main mansion where Claudius and other vampires stayed and the stables where Claudius kept his cherished horses. But they had a fireplace, a space heater, and of course each other to keep themselves warm enough. A sharp knock on the door surprised Wendy, as she stood up and walked over to the door the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she knew who it was. It was that bitch Claudia, never the less she was Claudius's daughter and she was obligated to answer, a twist of the door allowed the cold night air to blow into the house. Claudia stood there in her white zipper jacket, some sort of fashion item from France or something, "Yes mistress Claudia, how can I help you?" Wendy asked politely as Claudia made her way into the living room.

"Your husband, I need to speak to him." Claudia said as she looked at Wendy, "Immediately." she added angrily when she deemed Wendy to not be moving fast enough. Wendy walked into the hall and headed to their room, Claudia was always a bitch when she talked to the "employees" and more importantly it felt like death hung in the air around her at all times. She looked in the room and saw Andy sitting on the end of the bed, "I know, I know... she's here." he said groggily before standing up and stumbling towards the living room.

"Yeah, mistress, what's up?" Andy said while rubbing his eye, Claudia seemed to twitch in anger as Andy addressed her improperly.

"Why are the slaves not working the field?" Claudia demanded.

"Because there's about three feet of snow out there and more coming." Andy said with a yawn.

"So, just because it snows you can't do any other work?" Claudia demanded, "You will have them out there in thirty minutes doing your appointed tasks or else."

"Claudius gave me free reign to work the slaves as I see fit lady." Andy said, "I got four days worth of work done in two and I think everyone could use a break, its going to get bad out there."

"I don't care if my father gave you control over the field slaves," Claudia said angrily, "he didn't give you the right to dictate when they get a break."

"Well, we can't do anything today, how does that work for you?" Andy watched as Claudia ground her teeth in thought.

"I will tell my father, and I will see you removed." Claudia said, "Even if I have to do it myself one day, you will be gone."

"I wouldn't mind getting out of this place." Andy said with a smirk.

"I didn't mean you would be leaving this place, I mean I would see you dead." Claudia spat.

"I would like to see you try to kill me." Andy said, the smirk still on his face, "How old are you, 100, 200?"

"I'm 22..." Claudia said before Andy chuckled.

"22? Wow, that's not much." he said dismissively. Claudia was clearly upset and took out a thin metal rod and hit Andy on the back of the knee with it, the rod stung and caused Andy to fall on the ground as his leg involuntarily bent. "You will have them on the field in thirty minutes or I will have Wilhelm come for you. And if the next words that come out of your mouth are anything but "Yes Ma'am" I will personally see to it that your family never leaves this compound for a solid month. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am." Andy said as he looked away and rubbed his leg.

"Good." Claudia said as she replaced the metal rod back into its sheath on the side of her boot. She turned away and walked out to a small kart and was driven back towards the mansion along the private road.

Thirty minutes later Claudia watched the humans trudging through the think snow as the automatic shutters began to close to keep the arriving sun light out of the mansion. She sat outside of her father's bedroom and waited for him to open the door in order to repeat what had happened earlier. She didn't have to wait long before Claudius walked out, stretching, towards his office. "Oh, good morning dear." he said cheerfully to Claudia.

"Father, I need to tell you about Andy Bruss." she said with an air of importance.

"What is it?"

"He threatened me." she said.

"What was the full context of the situation dear?" he said, stopping in his tracks.

"I told him that I would have him killed one day, even if I had to do it myself. Then he asked me my age and when I told him he laughed and said it wasn't much." she said with the anger of the moment fresh in her mind.

"Well dear, that's because you aren't much compared to what he's killed before." Claudius saw the look of hurt in her eyes, and only her eyes, "Oh, deary, I know you don't like criticism but its true. You're still incredibly young, younger than him and you don't stand a chance alone against him. So, how did you respond to it when he said it?"

"I hit him with the discipline rod." Claudia replied and saw Claudius frown.

"Why did you see him anyways dear?"

"Because the slaves weren't working like they should have been."

"That's because Andy got them to fulfill the majority of their tasks in two days and he asked and I said yes he could." Claudius said, "They aren't out there working now are they?"

"Yes father they are, I told him he had to get them working or his family would lose permission to leave the compound for a month." Claudia confessed.

"Get them back to their homes, there's a major storm heading this way and I don't want them to fall ill." Claudius supressed the anger he felt because he knew she was still learning how to manage an estate, "Claudia, you need to learn how to keep your slaves mostly happy."

"Why father, they're just humans and two lousy wolves." Claudia said.

"Have you ever heard of Spartacus?" Claudius said with a smile, "He was just someone's slave who led an army of slaves and defeated Roman legions, groups of well armored and well trained men."

"So are you afraid of them?"

"No dear, not afraid of revolt from them because I treat them well enough while keeping boundaries between us and them." Claudius smiled, "Its all a matter of balancing how well you treat them with how well you define their roles... besides I know Andy's weakness and that's his family. I take care of his family and he is grateful to me so I don't fear the idea of him raising a revolt against me and the other kindred here. So, send a ghoul to tell them to go back to their homes, and it's little Michael Bruss's birthday today."

"What does a slave's birthday have to do with anything?"

"Well, its always nice to get someone something on their birthday and you have to make amends for hitting Andy when you had no right to." Claudius said as he gave Claudia a hug, "He's just a slave, but you also went against my word and I don't like that so you need to be punished as well and I know how hard it is for you to sorry when you're wrong." he finished as he pulled away and held her at an arms length away for a few seconds before walking into his office.

Claudia's shoulders slumped, she never thought that she would ever be punished for going against her father's orders by getting a toddler a present.

Chowderhead wrote:Oh joy. FITZZ is insane once again.

Also, I'm watching the Devil's Rejects for the first time on Monday.

(First OT post! Woo!)

..What do ya mean again?...My insanity is like a roller coaster Chowder...it goes up and goes down...but it's always a constant fixture.
...And, I can think of no better film than The Devils Rejects to place you in the proper frame of mind for what's coming in this RP...

I can promise all of you...the brutality of the previous Blood Moon chapters will pale in comparision to what I have in mind for this one...

Oh god. Claudia's like a Female Musater, but somehow crazier.