Fandom New York By Night (A Vampire The Masquerade RP) Character Sheet

[Londo_Mollari94]

Spoiler: Character Sheet

Character Sheet:







Name:







Age:







Gender:







Clan: (Here you will put what clan you are from)







Generation: (Here you will put you are an 11th generation vampire)







Occupation: (What is your character’s occupation)







Appearance: (What does your character look like)







Personality:







Background: (What is your character’s past, how they were embraced, and how they lived their lives as kindred)







Skills: (Here you will need to fill out the name, clan, generation, abilities, attributes, disciplines, virtues, and humanity section of the link provided. Your humanity at the start of will be 10 so that is something you will need to put down in the stat sheet below. You will have to put a link to the completed sheet so I can look it over.







Character/Skill Sheet )







Notes: (Is there anything else you want us to know about your character)

 

[ThAtGuY101]

Name: Buck Gamble

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Clan: Brujah

Generation: You are an 11th generation vampire

Former Occupation(s):
Cashier at a Mack's Burger Shack
Security for some shitty rock band he forgot the name to
Bouncer at a Night Club
Occupation: Handy man

Appearance: Short warm light brown hair messily slicked back. One red eye and one silver eye, pale skin, a scar around his left eye and an always present cocky grin. He's very muscular, sporting many scares and a couple bruises on many parts of his body. He has two red, black and gold phoenix tattoos; othe ne of each arm. The tails wrap around his extensors and the torsos on his flexors, biceps and deltoids, legs on his triceps and the heads lay on his neck. The Phoenix on his right arms rests on the front side of his neck and the left rests on the back. The right is looking up and the left is looking down. The wings cover his chest and back.

5'10" 1/2. Please do not ignore the half an inch. It is just as important as the other ten inches.

Spoiler: Buck Face

Personality: Buck is a hell raising, bastard child, fist fighting son of a bitch. Buck is a simple man, and happiest when doing what he loves which is hanging out with his friends, fighting and surprisingly painting. He hadn't got a lick of art talent but draws bigger pictures to make up for it. Oftentimes graffiti, but he enjoys a good canvas.

Like many brutes and thugs he's not particularly bright, and sarcasm sometimes eludes him from time to ttime. However he's smart enough to know to at least try follow rules and not to bite the hand that feeds him. He's also an honest man, and a good team player provided he is on a team worth fighting for.

Background: Buck was a fighter his whole life. It was him and his lifelong best friend against the world and they took shit from nobody. The day Buck was born, he came out swinging. The doctor joked about how he kicked him, but that was just the beginning. At this point, Buck lived in the small town of West Texas. In preschool he would meet his best friend for the first time. A boy named Nate Knight. Nate Tripped Buck and Buck pushed him down.

They got into a lot of fights together in elementary school a lot. Usually each other over stupid arguments about things like "Who's the greatest Marvel superhero? Or what's better, beef or chicken?". It was stupid fights in arguments that always escalated too far. And those fights made them better friends too! When someone picked on one, the other had their back guaranteed. An example of this was when Buck threw a chair at a kid two grades higher than him for trying to bully his best buddy Nate. They got in trouble a lot in highschool, but they became wiser for it too.

Buck might have been a troublemaker, but he understood consequences. He became more careful when it came to senseless violence and how authority figures worked. Though that usually meant getting in fights after school or in places like behind the gym where there was no cameras or teachers usually.

During his time in highschool, he worked at Mack's Burger Shack. He yelled with rude customers a lot. He even tripped a Karen in the parking lot, and nearly got fired, but convinced his boss, he didn't do it. It was a good job, but eventually his behavior needed to be checked, and he left so not to be fired.

When he was eighteen and graduated, he was a fairly strong man who was on the football team and wrestling team. He managed to go to college out of state in New York and played in college wrestling for two years, surprisingly alongside his best friend Nate who tagged along. They were roommates in college. Buck was unambitious and dropped out after two years.

After dropping out, he got a job as a security guard for two years. These were a pretty violent two years for Buck. He dealt with crazed fans of all shape and size alongside the occasional punk who had a grudge against one of the band members or Buck himself since he hurt a lot of people. This would be the first time he met Franklin One-Eye. A large biker who goaded Buck into fighting him. Buck hit him something fierce and seemingly held his own, but got his ass whooped all the same.

A month later, Buck's working in a night club, where one night, he'd bump into Franklin again, and this time, he'd challenge him to a drinking contest. It was against the rules to drink on the job, but he called him a coward and a bitch for initially turning down his challenge, and Buck was anything but a bitch so he accepted. While they were drinking, they discussed goals, ambitions, beliefs, philosophy. A very much change of pace from their first encounter, and of course it ended with a drunken fist fight in the alley. unsurprisingly he was fired. And he lost the fight.

Luckily for Buck, his friend graduated college and even had his own company. A handy man company where he did home improvement, house leveling, roofing and plumbing. it was hard work but him, Buck and a few other workers did a good job. One day Franklin would show up at his workplace again and Buck was annoyed with Franklin at this point, but Franklin wasn't alone this time. While Franklin was polite and calm, his friend was not which resulted in Buck kicking his ass. He even went to do the same to Franklin, and did well for himself, but he just didn't stand a chance. No matter how well he fought the guy, he did better. Nate told Buck to go home and rest and cool off, and on his way home that would be where his life would change and unlife would begin.

Skills: (Here you will need to fill out the name, clan, generation, abilities, attributes, disciplines, virtues, and humanity section of the link provided. Your humanity at the start of will be 10 so that is something you will need to put down in the stat sheet below. You will have to put a link to the completed sheet so I can look it over.

Character/Skill Sheet )

Spoiler: Stat stuff

Merits:
Bruiser: +1
accute senses +1
Huge size +4
Magic resistance: +2
Unboundable +5
Flaws:
Glowing eyes -3
Stereotype -1
Incomplete understanding -1

Notes:

Surprisingly Buck took well to his current job as handy man. Turns out the best type of job for him was a hands on job. He's quite the 'handy' worker. He enjoys using artistic liberties wen Crafting some of his projects. Some elegant and some bizarre and unusual, but the purpose is always obvious and effective.

Buck was embraced in 1992

 

[JamsTheOrc]

Spoiler: Nadia Michi

Name: Nadia Michi

Age: 33

Gender: Female

Clan: Toreador

Generation: 11th

Occupation: Musician

Appearance: As most toreadors are, she is stunning despite being technically dead for twenty years. The texture of her skin is smooth and were it not for the fact that she is dead, her skin would have a certain glow to it. Her skin tone is a light olive color and her amber colored hair reaches down to her neck and her eyes are a dark shade of brown. She has a slender build and is of average height for her age, and her weight would come just and average for someone with her physique.

Her fashion sense often reflects how she feels especially on stage, but normally she can be seen in a long skirts and off the shoulder long sleeve blouses of different colors or leggings for casual attire. Her choice in clothing when it comes to stage wear is more theatrical, from dresses out of something you would see in a fiction setting to torn up jeans and bomber jackets.

Personality: Nadia is easy to get along with, while she can be a bit of a drama queen, as a lot of toreador are, she has a good heart. Being around her clan for a few decades has given her the ability to navigate almost effortlessly through social scenes making her an extrovert when the need arises.

Background:

Spoiler: Nadia Michi

Nadia before her life as a kindred was interesting to say the least. She was the daughter of a (at the time) washed up musician and a less than nurturing mother. Coming from humble beginnings is an understatement from where she stands. Her father could barely get work while working as a package deliverer and her mother worked for a grocery store which made money tight. She wouldn’t see an instrument until her late adolescent stage, just couldn’t afford it. One day her mother couldn’t take their financial situation anymore and just left, which left her father to take care of a child while trying to raise the career he spent his entire life on from the dead.

Life wasn’t always sunshine and laughs, sometimes things get worse before they get better, yet things were about to look up. After a year around her 11th birthday, her father caught a break and landed one of the biggest jobs of his career as a well-paid studio musician. Things turned around and life was good for most of her adolescence. Her father gifted her with a piano for her 12th birthday and that was how she got into music. She had adored her father since she was young and even more so now that he had given her the gift of music. She spent every day practicing the piano and even picked up singing and dancing which added to her repertoire of musical talents. She wanted to make her dad proud by excelling in the world her father had brought her into. After high school graduation, she would find herself helping around her father’s place of work and would eventually meet her future band mates.

Solar Sky, her first band, everyone who was anyone knew who solar sky was. Flamboyant and androgynous style, catchy rhythms, memorable lyrics, they had it all. Her father who she had been doing all of this for loved that she was getting the most out of her musical journey and while he would have wanted to see her go off to college, he was just glad to see she was happy. Nadia toured with her band all over the world and quickly climbed the ranks of being one of the best bands in the world. Her success would be the last thing on her mind after hearing the man she loved more than anything in the world had been diagnosed with cancer.

She would learn a hard lesson that money cannot fix everything after her father’s cancer developed. All the money she could ever need at her disposal, and she couldn’t save her father from his fate. Her father would ultimately lose his battle and pass away when she was twenty three. Her father’s death devastated her and would be the ultimate turning point for her career. She left Solar Sky to take care of him and was there in his final days. When he passed, she stayed away from the band to grieve

During her time away, she never plans to return to the spotlight. She even thought of retiring and hoping her former bandmates would do well without her. Her choice would be made for her when fate would rear its head in the form of a fatal car accident. Before she could pass, a stranger who would become her first sire visited her and offered to embrace her and give her another chance at life. He had heard her music and was impressed with the amount of effort she put into everything she did. She thought she was ready to die, but her will to live was stronger than she thought, and she accepted. Over the course of weeks to make it seem less suspicious, he would turn her and teach her the ways of kindred.

She stayed with him in New York for ten years and was abandoned by him like all Toreadors who get bored of their childr do. With somewhat of a decent reason, her drive for music was not the same as it was when she was, yet he knew that. It was at her lowest time (literally) as the prince in New York was going to have her executed if no one wanted to sire her. While many Toreador saw the potential for a popular musician who never really left the music scene (at least in the eyes of her fans), It was a well known and well respected toreador named Gabriella who jumped at the chance. She would spend the next ten years of her unlife learning the ways of the Toreador.

Nadia's Skills


Notes: Nadia takes care of young teenage girl
​

​

 

[Londo_Mollari94]

Spoiler: Elizabeth Loebenthal

Name: Elizabeth Loebenthal

Age: 107

Gender: Female

Clan: Tzimisce

Generation: 11th generation

Occupation: Painter/Tattoo Artist

Appearance: Standing at 6’1 and weighing about 145 pounds with an athletic build. Her blonde hair is long but for the most part, is kept in a ponytail. Her eyes are piercing blue. With a noticeable mole on her near her right eye. Her skin is porcelain white. She has many piercings all over her face and body. Using vicissitude to shape her face and body to look more “Aryan.”

Elizabeth wears a red crop top shirt without any sleeves. Leaving her arms and stomach exposed. A black mesh t-shirt was worn underneath her crop top. Wearing loose-fitted jeans that are bearly loose by a brown belt. Her pants are adorned with symbols all over her pants.

Personality: Elizabeth is a quiet person keeping to himself, Being distant and cold towards others so he is not hurt by others. Rarely opening up to others and not connecting with others. She only opens up when he feels safe around others but this is a rare occasion. Being overly excited about little things. She is very curious about many things. She is known to be very protective of people she trusts. Another part of her personality is more cruel and sadistic, enjoying dealing out pain to people “she” does not like. She can be cunning and more clever than she truly appears. She is very cynical about the world around her.

Background: Elizabeth was born in a poor town in Germany during the early 20th century. During a young age, Elizabeth excelled in the arts. At a young age, she was skilled in drawing and painting exquisite works of art. Being called the Mozart of the art world. As she grew up she moved to Berlin to attend a well-known art school. During this time her artistic skills flourished and she also made connections with other artists. However, her studies were halted as the Nazi regime started growing. She was Jewish and was soon placed in a concentration camp. Being tortured and put through horrible work conditions. Surviving by working and making clothes for the Nazis.

Seeing death and suffering all around her, she was certain that she would be the next one to die. These thoughts ran through her head the entire time she was in the concentration camp. She did her best to help her fellow prisoners during this time. Drawing everything that was going on in the camp. Drawing starving prisoners, the camp, and the Nazis tormenting her. After a few years, the camp she was in was liberated and she joined a resistance group. Making propaganda for the group, as well as helping free other camps. After the war, she moved to France where she went back to painting and drawing. Becoming the protege of a well-known art dealer.

This art dealer unknown to Elizabeth was a Tzimisce vampire. She was turned into a ghoul and her painting was sold, and her name is known in the art world of Europe.Being manipulated by the dealer thinking he loved her. A few years later she was embraced by the art dealer. Not knowing that the art dealer was embellishing money from her. Finding this out from another artist friend. Obviously being furious by the betrayal she left France and moved to America.

Here she got a small apartment in New York and eventually met Edwina Adamson. The older vampire helped support Elizabeth while also teaching her the vampiric laws. Working as a tattoo artist and getting into the hardcore body modification scene.

Skills: Skill Sheet


Notes: Elizabeth loves classical music and operas. Has a habit of either ripping her fingernails or hang nails on her fingers when nervous. Sometimes when he is scared he will rub her earlobes. Has a sort of sixth sense to seeing ghosts and things others cannot see.

 

[Gordon_Greenwood]

​

Listen to me, Son. For every chip in an Edo Period vase, its value depreciates. People are the same way. Kenneth Lake

I'll come back for you, dragonfly. I promise! Allyson Lake

• First Life
• Embraced Life
• Appearance
• Personality
• Background
• Skills
• Notes

• Name: Adrian Lake
  Nickname: Dragonfly (Childhood - Mother Only)
  Father: Kenneth Lake
  Mother: Allyson Lake
  Career: Dealer of Fine Art and Antiquities
  Age: 32
  Birthday: May 8^th
  Sign: Taurus
  Gender: Male - CIS (He/Him/His)
  Orientation: Demisexual
• Date of Embrace: December 15^th, 1987
  Embrace Gifted By (Sire): Benedict Cooper
  Clan: Venture
  Generation: 11^th
  Occupation: Historian and Artefact Appraiser
• 
  

  Stats

  Height: 6’4” - Tall
  Weight: Mid-Weight/Average
  Build: Toned/In-Shape/Ectomorph
  Hair Length: Shaved-Sides/Long Top/Loose Curls/Golden-Blond
  Eyes: Wide/Pale Blue/Inquisitive
  Notable Features: Freckles/Scar (Nose)/Pierced Ears/Long Anchor Beard

  Written Description

  In highschool, Adrian stood taller than all of his classmates, and even a few of his teachers. His square jaw slid down from the ears and seemed to wrap itself beneath a pair of full, bowed lips. Right above that, his nose rested, dusted with a pale smattering of freckles across its straight and wide-set bridge.
  
  People found him to be charming and approachable in everyway possible. From his curious sky-colored eyes to the corners of his mouth that rested upturned at the edges and gave him an impression of good-humor without the need to try.
  
  Only his closest friends knew the one tell Adrian gave-away when he felt peaceful, though—dimples; just under the cheekbones. So, naturally, no one had ever seen them…

• 
  Inquisitive, taciturn, and apathetic.
  
  
  

  
  

  A consistent routine shaped Adrian's entire upbringing, as an upbringing with no consistency at all. His father dragged him around the world collecting antiques, fine art, and curios of all sorts. The two of them settled down for a few months at a time at most. His father ushered Adrian off to a school with a penchant for fast-learning and then disappeared to hunt down every rumored collector in the area.
  
  The young man developed his isolationist personality with the experiences. At first, Adrian tried to make friends with his classmates. He’d have just enough time to learn half their names, and then they were off again. He learned to isolate himself from others, withdrawing into his own world. His life forced him to cease caring about anything.
  
  Adrian never once uttered an untoward word to anyone—never—but he refused to feel anything when the time to say goodbye came again.
• 
  
  
  December 15th, 1987
  10:38pm EST.
  
  Adrian’s story began, as it does to all art collectors, with a painting…
  
  It sported a frame made of simple wood that weighed less than he had anticipated, as if made from Sitka or White Pine. His fingers held onto the edges with a sure grip as he moved it onto the lip of an easel. He handled the work like a grown adult might handle a porcelain doll from their childhood rediscovered at the bottom of some attic-stowed steamer trunk; with nostalgia and wonder.
  
  “It certainly looks the part at first glance,” Adrian admitted, flicking on a light clamped to the top of the artist’s desk.
  
  “I assure you, it is.”
  
  The voice belonged to a man standing in Adrian’s shop. He had wandered in from the cold at twenty-one past the hour and introduced himself as Ben Cooper. Adrian knew the exact time because his shop closed in nine minutes, and he had just gotten up from his stool to turn off the overhead lights. The day had dragged on far longer than expected, and he thought he’d earned the right to skive off a bit early. Besides, he needed to be up at dawn tomorrow if he wanted to make it in the door of the Pop Art Expo.
  
  “I understand,” the blond nodded, “I’ll do my best to verify.”
  
  Satisfied with that response, the stranger sauntered into an antique, wingback armchair and settled himself down. He looked like a private investigator from some film noir with his snow-dusted trench coat and felt fedora sat askew stop raven black hair. Adrian had to bite back a chuckle when Mr. Cooper had arrived carrying a large painting wrapped up with canvas and twine.
  
  Adrian’s crystalline eyes traced the signature at the bottom right corner. They slid over the slippery ‘C’ and flourished ‘t’ at the end before they rested on two numbers.
  
  “Fifty-eight?” Adrian murmured. He reached out, his gloved fingers stretching to touch the date without thought, but he caught himself before they connected. “The Boudin Period?”
  
  The art dealer’s words got half-stuck on their way out, and he cleared his throat to try again. “In fifty-eight, he was painting with Eugene—”
  
  “Boudin, yes,” Mr. Cooper interjected. “I don’t believe there are many known to the public.”
  
  “Only one,” Adrian said.
  
  He turned to the painting again, eyes widening and mind churning. The brushstrokes looked right. Its colors, its signature, its subject—they all matched as far as he could tell. But something about the frame bothered him. It puzzled him like the last hint in a crossword that he thought he knew, only to find out the letters didn’t fit.
  
  How much would a Boudin Period sell for? Who could he rouse at this hour to authenticate the damned thing?
  
  “I don't have the tools here to ensure its authenticity. Honestly, I’m not sure there is a possibility of this being genuine. How did you come across it?” Adrian asked.
  
  “I was there when it was painted. Commissioned it from the artist myself.”
  
  Adrian’s head whipped around so fast, his neck popped. Ben’s tone had shocked him. The was he had said it, with such persuasive casualness, for a moment the other had believed him without hesitation. Somehow, in Adrian's mind, this man had met Monet.
  
  When they faced one another, Adrian spotted the crinkled edges of his eyes and the upward curve of his mouth.
  
  A joke, he told himself. Well, of course, it was a joke. The man would have to be over one-hundred and thirty to have met the original artist. If it is real, that is.
  
  “If I sold it to you,” Mr. Cooper continued, now that he had Adrian’s full attention, “how much would you offer me?”
  
  “Without a certificate of authentication and the unlikelihood of your claim, I could offer you seventy-five for it.”
  
  Adrian expected fury. He assumed the Ben would fly into an unparalleled rage and the art dealer battened down for the oncoming storm. But instead, the dark-haired gentleman stood with a nod and stuck out his hand.
  
  “It’s a deal,” he agreed.
  
  By god, Adrian almost shook on it, too! He eyed the proffered hand as an inner-war erupted under his skin. The possibility that Benedict Cooper had forged the painting that morning was a very real one. In that case, seventy-five dollars became a massive loss for Adrian.
  
  But what if someway the thing was real…? He'd end up just like his father, that's what. Taking advantage of people who didn't know any better to stuff his own pockets.
  
  “I’m sorry, sir,” Adrian said, making his mind up. “I can’t. If you’re as sure as you say that this painting is genuine, then it’s worth millions. Allow me to put you in contact with a friend of mine. She can authenticate your painting first thing tomorrow morning.”
  
  With that, Adrian turned toward his desk to grab a pen and to find a scrap of paper before he changed his mind.
  
  “If you think I’m lying, there’s no need to pass me off to someone else. Just say so,” the man chuckled from behind him. His voice drifted over Adrian’s shoulders with good-humor, as sweet as a crystal wind chime caught in a gentle October breeze.
  
  “The funny thing is,” Adrian began, plucking a spare notepad off out of an open drawer, “I don’t think you’re lying. And despite every logical part of my brain screaming that you are, something tells me otherwise. It feels real, if that makes any sense?”
  
  The blond’s hands were in the middle of scribbling down his contact’s name and business number when the other man pressed his over their tops, stopping all movement. Cold—his hands were ice cold.
  
  Ben trapped Adrian’s chin between his thumb and index finger, and tilted the young man's face up to look him in the eye. The surrounding candlelight and the soft yellow glow of the easel lamp turned Ben’s glassy orbs into molten gold. Or maybe, Adrian speculated, they had always been that color and he had just failed to notice before now.
  
  “You’re willing to give up the chance at a fortune? Why?”
  
  “I—” Adrian paused, unable to get the words past the lump in his throat.
  
  One of three things happened to all prey when confronted by a predator: They ran, they fought, or they froze. Even if the prey didn't realize the beast’s nature—even if it had never come face to face with it before—one of those three responses always kicked in.
  
  And without knowing why, Adrian froze. Every muscle in his body tensed as the acrid taste of adrenaline hit his tongue. His heart shrieked at him from his chest to run, but his brain insisted that Benedict Cooper was simply another man. Before she had left, Adrian's mother had told him to always hear what his heart had to say. He wished he'd listened to her.
  
  “It wouldn’t be right,” he finally choked out. Ben smiled at him for the first time that evening, and all the color seeped out of Adrian’s face.
  
  “I see,” said the—man?. “I was right about you.”
  
  Adrian didn’t want to ask, but the words forced themselves off his tongue by their own accord. “What do you mean?”
  
  “You’re the one, of course.”
  
  As if that answered anything, he let go of Adrian’s jaw and wandered over to the shop’s door. His fingers twisted the deadbolt against the outside world as he hummed a tuneless song in the back of his throat.
  
  “Tell me, Mr. Lake,” he implored. “When you’re awake at night, dreading over death as all you mortals do, have you considered why that truly frightens you?”
  
  Adrian wasn’t aware that he’d moved, but he felt the chair rail of the wall press into his back. His lips hugged and formed around words that refused to leave his throat. Raw panic crept up his spine.
  
  “The unknown?” Cooper went on, stepping closer. “The physical act of dying itself, perhaps?”
  
  Adrian’s fingers found the handle of an early Ming dynasty teapot on the shelf next to him. He brought it out, brandishing it as the only weapon in his arsenal. But before he could blink, it exploded into dust. He still clutched the jagged piece of ceramic that used to be the handle against his palm.
  
  A second later, and Ben Cooper stood pressed against him. His lips ghosted over the flesh of his throat as he spoke his final question.
  

  
  

  
  “Or is it,
  

  
  
  
  as I expect,
  

  
  
  
  
  
  that you lay awake,
  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  heartbroken at all the history you’ll miss before it happens?”
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Things of Note​
  
  
  
  • Adrian has an attention to detail that’s been well-honed over decades of travelling with his father.
  • It helped him as he made his own way into the world of art and antique dealing.
  • His mother left at a very early age.
  • He has no friends and borders the life of a shut-in.
  • His embrace took place in 1987.
  • His sire was put to death for treason in 1989.
  • Currently works as a historian and artefact appraiser.
  • Is woefully distant with others.

 

[Sunsmiter]

• General
• Features
• Background
• Other

• 
  
  Name: Loreilah Persekore
  
  Nicknames: Lucy
  
  Age: Appears 26, actual age unknown
  
  Gender: female
  
  Clan: Tzimisce
  
  Generation: 11th
  
  Occupation: Heiress, really just a rich playgirl of a noble. Earned her fame through her opera singing, not her artworks. When questioned, Lucy alternates between proclaiming herself a painter or musician, yet never settling on one. In truth, she is less interested in artworks than ever. The only expression she indulges in other than giving herself "makeovers" these days is music.
  
  Sexuality: Pan
  
  
  
• 
  
  The vampires of Clan Tzimisce are known for their fleshshaping arts. Lucy’s sire was no different. Whatever face Lucy once had, it was wiped away by the hands of her sire. Regardless of how Vicissitude was used to mold her flesh like promethean clay, Lucy prefers a tall, elegant form, regardless of whatever features she has, she came by her beauty via her past, and was molded in elegant sculpture post-embrace. While her hair is commonly long and dark, it is not uncommon for her to experiment with different appearances. One feature of note are her eyes, known to fluctuate much more than her normal appearance. Her muscularity is commonly quite toned, but not extremely muscular, as she prefers to allow herself to be underestimated.
  
  Notable Features: None. Her flesh is not known to retain its form.
  
  Personality: Lucy is a charming, suave, if far too extravagant belle of the ball. She has a way with words, and especially a way with shaping flesh like clay. Before her Embrace, Lucy was a soul who enjoyed the finer arts of civilisation, a creator of both art, music and dance. She created wonders, and she might have truly become a rising star if not for her flaws.
  
  She was ambitious. And wished for perfection. Her perfectionism, and her ambition, her endless pursuit of arts, music and drama, would lead her perfection into ruin. As charming as she might be, even as far as her surprisingly naive and innocent dreams may take her, there’s nothing beneath all that cunning and ambition than one who believed herself to be broken, her masterpieces fading bits of vain glory that lead to her Embrace. And, ironically enough, not even wine could drown her sorrows this time.
  
  Whenever she gazes in the mirror, all she sees is imperfections of the flesh to be carved and sculpted away. She may be an artist, but not with the easel, rather one of flesh and bone.
  
  Right: Lucy, pre-embrace
  
  Spoiler

  
• 
  Raised as a younger, neglected sister bathed in the lap of luxury, she wanted for nothing, yet craved for everything her parents denied, from their adoration to even their attention. Her exquisite talent in the arts, from playing the violin and piano, to dancing, to singing opera, to painting, was expressed in increasingly extravagant, attention-seeking ways to draw attention to the youngest sister in a sprawling household. She could have been a prodigy under any other circumstances, if not for how bitterly embodied in their family feuds her parents and siblings were.
  
  When her parents expired one month within the other, her older siblings’ squabbling began whittling away their family’s rather considerable fortune, and their fortune(and estate) were thrown to the legal abyss of courts and judgment. Little Lucy would have gone on alone through the crossfire, obliviously painting her days away in obscurity. She would have been unsatisfied with her work, eternally chasing perfection, until the man who would become her sire intervened.
  
  The offers, at first, were simple, from a seemingly reputable gentleman with such a beautiful face, with those dark rings on his fingers and that easy smile. Caedroth wanted her to be a model, an artist’s model, and Lucy saw no reason to disagree. Then it became more than painting,, it became about beauty, about obsession, about her. The visits would become longer, the older patron taking the young, naive artist full of obsession and imperfection and ambition beneath his wing and gently massaging her into the perfect mold she would be. There was no way out from this deception, no bright light shining in Lucy’s eyes as she was slowly led away by a man whose beauty was supernatural. They no longer spoke about art, but rather her inheritance, her estate, her siblings’ squabbles over the money, Lucy passing off that greedy gleam in her soon-to-be sire’s eyes as mere curiosity. Besides, Caedroth had made her beautiful, and given her just bits and pieces of the fame Lucy craved.
  
  Of course her sire only wanted her for the money, for her fame, for being a canvas of flesh. And even as dreamy as Lucy was, she knew it. You can’t have ambition without knowing what it looks like. She knew what Caedroth wanted, yet never bothered to stop him. Perhaps she didn’t know any better. Perhaps she didn’t know who else would care for her. She was in her twenties, after all.
  
  There was no grand massacre, no great estate fire claiming her siblings. Merely a string of seemingly unrelated deaths that occurred one after the other. Burst heart arteries, strange tumors, bones growing out of alignment, rabid dogs attacking one of her sisters. They ended up dead, and she ended up rich.
  
  Of course her sire held his precious prize, his very own heiress held in the Tzimisce's claws. Of course he had shaped his childe into beauty, perhaps out of perfection, perhaps because he was trying to re-create some ancient memory of a beloved family member he lost so long ago. Caedroth created her like a living sculpture, her unlife in exchange to access to her fame and wealth. In exchange, he made her beautiful. He gave her perfection, however fleeting it may be.
  Right: Caedroth, male
  Left: Caedroth's female version, because vicissitude lets you look cool. And also because "hot".
  
  
• 
  While Lucy at least claims to be an artist, she hasn’t painted for decades. Her inactivity has led to quite the annoyance of her sire.
  
  Neglected by her own family, Lucy wears her superficial charm in an attempt to keep her company. It is less fear of abandonment and more of fear of neglect. As charismatic as she seems, she still fears being forgotten.
  
  Caedroth is quite controlling of all his childer as a sire, but more often than not out due to self-preservation(and given the Tzimisce’s eccentric habits, that's not entirely surprising).
  
  She was turned surprisingly early(she was old enough to see the world go up in flames during the wars), but has only very recently acquired her fame. Immortality tends to be quite the hindrance when it comes to performing, as suddenly you now have to deal with the fact the newest opera singer apparently doesn’t age.
  
  Caedroth has a slightly strained relationship with Lucy. Lucy, because she knows she’s only around for the money, and Caedroth, knowing quite damn well she knows that.
  
  Wherever Caedroth is, Lucy doesn’t particularly care. As helpful as the much more ancient Tzimisce has been, and given what he’s done to get this far, and his hedonistic nature(not that Lucy would be any better), the two of them have a rather eccentric relationship. Caedroth doesn’t give Lucy a “surprise-makeover”(two words no Tzimisce should ever utter), and in exchange, Lucy doesn’t freeze his credit cards. Sounds good? Okay.
  
  She has a few old artworks hidden away in her residence, but prefers not to show them. They were imperfect under her gaze.
  

 

[Israel]

Azriel Halimi Levy

Name: Azriel Halimi Levy

Age: Unknown, appears to be his late twenties

Gender: Cisgender Male

Clan: Assamite

Generation: 11th Generation

Occupation: Enforcer

Appearance:

Spoiler: Written Description

While his height and build are nothing of note (being a slim 5'8), Azriel has a rather distinct appearance. His features are overall sharp: from his angular jawline to his gaunt cheekbones to his pointed ears. His eyes are a pale gold in color. His skin is a sickly pale color that almost borders on gray. While from the neck up, his skin is flawless and without blemishes or scars. However, the rest of his body is covered in scars and tattoos. Most of the scars are thin and healed over, but some remain distinct. As for his tattoos, most are concentrated on his arms (sleeves), his left leg (sleeve), and his lower back. Most are stylized in a henna pattern. His hair is thick in texture and is inky black color. The hair on his head is usually brushed back and in a messy style.

Personality: Azriel is a strange individual. If meeting under pleasant circumstances, Azriel is a rather calm and relaxed individual. While seemingly charming and pleasant on the outside, he is a highly manipulative individual. Underneath the pleasant exterior, there is a certain coldness that sends a shiver down one’s back. A playful smile that is laced with cruelty and malice, he often seems to enjoy toying with others. While his playful side is definitely cruel and unstable at times, it is nothing compared to when he is serious. Due to his position, his tasks and targets bring out a more “malevolent” individual. The coldness almost becomes like ice in the veins of those he encounters. Whether it is raw, unkempt rage or frigid apathy, either one twists into a lethal reaction. Despite his “mannerisms,” he is loyal to his ideals and those he cares about.

Background:

Spoiler: Little Psycho's First Steps

Azriel was born in what would be considered modern Romania. His mother, an Ashkenazi Jewish woman, had lived her entire life in the shtetl known as Gura Humora (modern-day Romania) where she was born. When she entered adulthood, she was described as the “Rose of the Village'' for not just her beauty, but also for her prickly personality. Unsurprisingly, and much to the chagrin of her family, courtship was nearly impossible for the young woman. That was until she met a traveling trader, who had made his way into the village with strongly accented Yiddish. Upon first meeting she admired his dark and handsome features. She would later learn he was a Jew from the Maghreb (specifically Algeria). She would eventually tell her father that he was the man she wished to marry, despite having little to no interaction with the man. Her father, albeit not too pleased with her decision, eventually arranged the marriage. Perhaps he knew how stubborn his daughter was or perhaps it was her growing age and reluctance to marry any of the other bachelors in the shtetl. Within a year Azriel was born, the oldest brother of five siblings. Azriel had a normal childhood, despite facing quite a bit of adversity from his mother’s community. His father often traveled quite a bit for work, so his grandfather (his mother’s father) took it upon himself to teach Azriel and his younger brother. While his younger brother was very much interested in learning about Torah and the Talmud, Azriel was interested in other things. However, he did take interest in the darker and more macabre aspects of Judaism (something that would greatly disturb his grandfather). Azriel’s main interests though included business, language, and travel. Obviously he had adopted the wanderlust of his father. When Azriel was old enough, his father took him on as an apprentice. Within a few years, Azriel had traveled to many countries within Europe, the Middle East and North Africa, and even as far as China and India. Azriel took a keen interest in the communities he traveled to and enjoyed the arts, jewelry, and culture that developed in each area. He eventually wanted to travel to the “New World,” however fate had other ideas for the young man. His father and him had an unfortunate encounter with pirates in the Mediterranean Sea. His father, a stubborn man, would not give up his goods. This ended an altercation where Azriel’s father was killed. This was Azriel’s first encounter with coldblooded murder and something in the young man snapped. While his father’s ship was looted and burned, Azriel was taken captive. Somehow Azriel had managed to undo his restraints and overpowered the guards. The young man, consumed by wrath, made his way throughout the pirate ship. Slaughtering anyone he encountered, regardless of whether they were armed or pirates themselves. Eventually, it was nothing more than a ghost ship with no one other than Azriel at the helm. The ghost ship eventually landed on the coast of Tunisia. This would be the catalyst of Azriel meeting his sire, Abdiel Azria. When investigated, many were disturbed by the visceral carnage they encountered. At the helm, they encountered a delirious Azriel who was singing a Yiddish lullaby. They assumed Azriel was the sole survivor of an attack. He was brought before Abdiel, who learned that the young man was the cause of said carnage and was thoroughly impressed by the young man’s skills. In a way, Abdiel thought he could use Azriel as an “attack dog” to enforce law and order. Abdiel has remained unaware of Azriel’s own ambition and does not see the twisted side of Azriel.

Skills:

Spoiler: Skill Sheet

View attachment 1134761

Notes: Azriel is a well-versed polyglot, even prior to becoming a vampire he was fluent in Yiddish, Romanian, Algerian Arabic, and French. He would eventually learn and become fluent in English and Hebrew, as well as conversational in a few others.

 

[One of Hearts]

Age: 27, but she was embraced at 14.

Gender: Female

Clan: Caitiff

Generation: 13

Occupation: Until recently, she was a freeloader, given whatever she needed by her sire. Perhaps this was his way of ensuring she remained dependent on him. In recent nights, after being discarded, she was taken in by Ludwig and Edwina. They often hand her simple tasks and jobs to do.

Appearance: Her hair is a dark brownish color, but she's recently had it dyed to purple. She not sure how long the purple will last, but is hoping it'll last. Her eyes seem huge, and she's about 4'7.

Personality: Violet is the type of person who listens and waits to respond if she can. Too many times she had gotten in trouble for speaking when not spoken to. She attempts to keep every encounter in her life as professional as she can. In times past, she used to be bubbly and thoughtful for others, wanting nothing more than to get closer. However, due to her somehow receiving her sires bane, she began claiming these people as hers. She would get upset and frustrated with these people when others attempted to just speak with them. Once she was confronted about her actions, she quickly learned the dangers of getting to close to anyone. It was far too toxic. Now Violet roams the nights, following any mission given to her (typically paying up on favors her group owes) as professionally as she can.


Background: Violet doesn't remember much about her human life. She recalls her family being poor, and her grandfather never seeming to age. Once she was fourteen she became very ill and brought to her grandfathers house, where she was embraced. She did not have the chance to see her parents or her siblings again. Under her grandfathers care she learned quickly, one does not speak unless spoken to. Her grandfather wasn't cruel per say, but he was controlling and protective of Violet, believing she was not yet ready for the dangers of the kindred world. Violet was very curious of the kindred world, and when she could sneak out to see it, she was quickly caught and reprimanded for that. It was about two years after her embrace when some other important member of the Camarilla discovered something about her that forever changed her unlife: she was clanless, a Caitiff. Normally she should have been killed, but her grandfather had arranged for her to be cast out into the streets instead. She had begged to stay and apologized to her grandfather for ever trying to explore the kindred world. He however did not hold the power to decide if she may stay or not, it was a miracle itself they allowed her to live. Violet, with no other choice left and moved away, far away to a place where kindred might not know she was clanless. She discovered Ludwig and Edwina who took her in and give her small jobs to do. She's felt a sense of loyalty and seeks to repay them for their generosity. They were also the ones to kindly confront her when it began to show her possession over others. She does her best to conceal such feelings and distances herself to keep others safe.

Skills: (Put the skill sheet you filled out here)


Notes: Violet never learned how to drive, she often will grab a taxi or ride the bus. Sometimes Ludwig or Edwina will offer her a ride if the destination is nearby.