Neon Valkyrie
She Who Is Called I Am
((I'm bored, it's late, forgive the corn, and proceed to section 2 of this post for the rules. it's walk-in time! >Ahem!<
EDIT: (( OOOH, I'VE GONE AND GOTTEN INVESTED. THIS IS GOING TO BECOME AN APPLICATION RP WITH A PROPER CS WHEN I HAVE A MOMENT.))
Modern Day, Paris -
There is a forgotten history in the world. One written in shadow and blood. that stretches back to the beginning, back to the garden, to the first days. Most have forgotten the story of our mother, the banished one, the blood-storm. Few were our numbers then, fostered by the blood of those humans who strode too far from the fire's light, or delved too deep into unknown shadows, spurned by the brilliant dawn. Humans were close together then, strong. They learned to shape the earth into weaponry, into armour. They learned to watch the night, taught their children of our weaknesses in story and song. Zealots, Inquisitors, Hunters, they pushed us to the brink of extinction, into obscurity and that narrow space where myths and legends dwell.
And then ... then they forgot.
Perhaps it was the plague, or the fire. Perhaps it was war, or famine that cast a fog over ancient evils. The Crusades, the Schism, Revolutions. Empires rose and fell. Life in the sun became as dangerous as life in the dark, and the stories passed from parent to child changed. Fear your neighbour, fear your government, fear the infidels and the outsiders and the interlopers. While the humans fought one another, we crawled back from the edge of oblivion. We took back our rightful place in the dark. As the humans multiplied and spread, so did we. In every corner of the world our numbers swelled, and the surviving children of Lilith, the Antediluvian, created the 13 Clans. Like the humans, we have suffered growing pains, had our civil wars, our disasters. The Antediluvian used to rule directly, but over the centuries we have grown weary, and out of touch. We rule now in turn as Monarch, serving a decade at a time before passing the crown to the next ... with a few exceptions. Clans have risen and fallen, but always have they numbered 13, each rules by a council of Elders, each sustaining their own political hierarchy and structure. In this century they are;
Clan Assamite - Silent killers, they are keepers of rituals forbidden even among our kind. Their only desire is power.
Clan Brujah - Warriors, Philosophers, Rebels with little care for secrecy or tradition. Watch your back unless you have a Brujah's word.
Followers of Set - Keepers of knowledge, they scour the oldest places in search of powerful artifacts. Being of interest to them is not a good thing.
Clan Gangrel - Mongrels, Beastial and untamed vampires who grow to resemble the animals they so admire. Mind their teeth, and those of their familiars.
Clan Giovanni - Insular, unearthly, they commune with and command the dead, but their true interest is wealth. Trust is not a valuable currency among them.
Clan Lasombra - Masters and mistresses of darkness itself, some say they have come to worship it. What strange presences have they found in its depths?
Clan Malkavian - Their blood is cursed with madness, the kind that comes from glimpsing the truth. Keep them close at hand, but chained.
Clan Nosferatu - Hideous and deformed, their bite holds only pain, much like their wretched existence. They peddle secrets to hold their place in our world.
Clan Ravnos - Wanderers, nomads, and illusionists, their blood boils with desire and vice. Eternity, to some, can be a terrifying notion.
Clan Toreador - Artists, Empaths, overwhelmed by the beauty and passion in the world, they console themselves with sensuality.
Clan Tremere - Sorcerers, keepers of the flame, they are not true children of Lilith. No, it was something far below that first gave them their fangs.
Clan Tzimisce - Masters of flesh and bone, they are remnants of the old world. Pity they never moved on from crushed velvet and lace collars.
Clan Ventrue - Strong and upright, so they claim, they use their righteousness to keep the other houses in line. Think them noble at your own risk.
Each has their own territory, but there is one place all are welcome without question; The Necropolis. Here, buried beneath the streets of Paris, hidden in the deep ruins of the catacombs, is the new capital city of the undead. Founded at the turn of the century by the Caitiff, the clanless, it is home to the Throne, and a safe haven from thirst, sunlight, politics, and hunters, or so they say. Despite the best laid plans, there is still clan violence, conspiracy, crime, and the odd infiltration by misguided humans on some suicidal crusade. While the sitting Monarch rules over our society, our culture, the city itself is ruled over by a counsel of representatives, two from each clan, and an Arbiter appointed by the Caitiff, who operate as peacekeepers within its walls. The Caitiff also possess one of the Urns of Dragulia, a gift from the Followers of Set, an artifact which produces an endless supply of fresh, human blood. Stored in a secure production facility, the Urn's offerings are packaged and delivered to establishments all around the city and sold. One might say that The Necropolis is the one place on earth a vampire can truly recapture the normalcy of their former life ... albeit in the dark.
EDIT: (( OOOH, I'VE GONE AND GOTTEN INVESTED. THIS IS GOING TO BECOME AN APPLICATION RP WITH A PROPER CS WHEN I HAVE A MOMENT.))
Modern Day, Paris -
There is a forgotten history in the world. One written in shadow and blood. that stretches back to the beginning, back to the garden, to the first days. Most have forgotten the story of our mother, the banished one, the blood-storm. Few were our numbers then, fostered by the blood of those humans who strode too far from the fire's light, or delved too deep into unknown shadows, spurned by the brilliant dawn. Humans were close together then, strong. They learned to shape the earth into weaponry, into armour. They learned to watch the night, taught their children of our weaknesses in story and song. Zealots, Inquisitors, Hunters, they pushed us to the brink of extinction, into obscurity and that narrow space where myths and legends dwell.
And then ... then they forgot.
Perhaps it was the plague, or the fire. Perhaps it was war, or famine that cast a fog over ancient evils. The Crusades, the Schism, Revolutions. Empires rose and fell. Life in the sun became as dangerous as life in the dark, and the stories passed from parent to child changed. Fear your neighbour, fear your government, fear the infidels and the outsiders and the interlopers. While the humans fought one another, we crawled back from the edge of oblivion. We took back our rightful place in the dark. As the humans multiplied and spread, so did we. In every corner of the world our numbers swelled, and the surviving children of Lilith, the Antediluvian, created the 13 Clans. Like the humans, we have suffered growing pains, had our civil wars, our disasters. The Antediluvian used to rule directly, but over the centuries we have grown weary, and out of touch. We rule now in turn as Monarch, serving a decade at a time before passing the crown to the next ... with a few exceptions. Clans have risen and fallen, but always have they numbered 13, each rules by a council of Elders, each sustaining their own political hierarchy and structure. In this century they are;
Clan Assamite - Silent killers, they are keepers of rituals forbidden even among our kind. Their only desire is power.
Clan Brujah - Warriors, Philosophers, Rebels with little care for secrecy or tradition. Watch your back unless you have a Brujah's word.
Followers of Set - Keepers of knowledge, they scour the oldest places in search of powerful artifacts. Being of interest to them is not a good thing.
Clan Gangrel - Mongrels, Beastial and untamed vampires who grow to resemble the animals they so admire. Mind their teeth, and those of their familiars.
Clan Giovanni - Insular, unearthly, they commune with and command the dead, but their true interest is wealth. Trust is not a valuable currency among them.
Clan Lasombra - Masters and mistresses of darkness itself, some say they have come to worship it. What strange presences have they found in its depths?
Clan Malkavian - Their blood is cursed with madness, the kind that comes from glimpsing the truth. Keep them close at hand, but chained.
Clan Nosferatu - Hideous and deformed, their bite holds only pain, much like their wretched existence. They peddle secrets to hold their place in our world.
Clan Ravnos - Wanderers, nomads, and illusionists, their blood boils with desire and vice. Eternity, to some, can be a terrifying notion.
Clan Toreador - Artists, Empaths, overwhelmed by the beauty and passion in the world, they console themselves with sensuality.
Clan Tremere - Sorcerers, keepers of the flame, they are not true children of Lilith. No, it was something far below that first gave them their fangs.
Clan Tzimisce - Masters of flesh and bone, they are remnants of the old world. Pity they never moved on from crushed velvet and lace collars.
Clan Ventrue - Strong and upright, so they claim, they use their righteousness to keep the other houses in line. Think them noble at your own risk.
Each has their own territory, but there is one place all are welcome without question; The Necropolis. Here, buried beneath the streets of Paris, hidden in the deep ruins of the catacombs, is the new capital city of the undead. Founded at the turn of the century by the Caitiff, the clanless, it is home to the Throne, and a safe haven from thirst, sunlight, politics, and hunters, or so they say. Despite the best laid plans, there is still clan violence, conspiracy, crime, and the odd infiltration by misguided humans on some suicidal crusade. While the sitting Monarch rules over our society, our culture, the city itself is ruled over by a counsel of representatives, two from each clan, and an Arbiter appointed by the Caitiff, who operate as peacekeepers within its walls. The Caitiff also possess one of the Urns of Dragulia, a gift from the Followers of Set, an artifact which produces an endless supply of fresh, human blood. Stored in a secure production facility, the Urn's offerings are packaged and delivered to establishments all around the city and sold. One might say that The Necropolis is the one place on earth a vampire can truly recapture the normalcy of their former life ... albeit in the dark.
RULEZ
So ... here's where things get tricky. This RP is technically set in the Whitewolf Vampire The Masquerade setting ... but only very loosely. A cursory wikipedia search will tell you all you need to know about the clans, their powers, etc. I expect people to control themselves, and not go all Twilight on me, and I DO reserve the right to kick people out ... but there is no application process, and aside from the TOS, the only rules are these; You are a vampire, or a human, nothing else. You are from a listed clan, or clanless, nothing else. You must be from the newest three generations, and be no older than 200 years, no exceptions. You will not hold a rank higher than Duke, as the upper titles are reserved for older vampires, and you will treat everyone with fairness and respect ... though your character doesn't have to. That's it. No application. No profile. While I encourage descriptiveness and engagement, I'm not instigating a word limit or requirement, and while I hope you read and respect the rules, it will become apparent if you do not.EDIT: Oh, and use the recruiting thread as the OOC
KEY LOCATIONZ
PARIS! - The Necropolis is located directly beneath central Paris ... so, enjoy.Enthralled - A nightclub and weekend strip-joint operated by Estelle Doward, a powerful Ravnos who dabbles in drugs on the side.
The Enclave - A halfway house for Assamites on the run, a place to disappear for a while and be among people who will understand your murderous ways.
Bianci and Russo - Fences, hustlers, loan sharks ... they call themselves a Financial Services Office. Damn Giovanni.
Essencie - A clothing store, salon, and cosmetician for the truly outdated, operated by notorious Tzimisce masochist Ladislav Surovy. Best go on weekends.
The Embassy - Part gentlemans club, part secret society clubhouse, the Ventrue claim everything that happens here is in the interests of all vampires.
Dank Bill's - The only known Nosferatu establishment. No one goes inside, so you'd have to ask one of the ugly bastards what exactly it is.
Le Soleil - An art gallery and performance space run by ... I think you can guess. I assume all proceeds go to charity.
The Sanctum - The local temple of Set, but not the primary temple. Here worshipers can come to study, train, and rest. None but the followers are welcome into the inner sanctum.
The Burning Hall - A research centre and library established by the Tremere, but where all are welcome to all but the most forbidden knowledge. Pity none but the Tremere can master their Thaurmaturgy.
Primal - A barracks and training ground for travelling Brujah. Nothing worrisome here except the Brujah themselves.
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