Recent Statuses

26 May 2015 14:39
Just made my first post in... I don't even KNOW how long. I feel alive. Woop.
1 like
25 May 2015 15:40
I didn't even know this thing existed. Alright then.
1 like


User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Warren Ellis, great writer, likes intertwining transhumanism with themes in folklore and telling stories about hardcore themes and social issues.

Also, probably having it span over multiple areas.
First option is a fresher take. Maybe take some Ellis-esque posthuman themes and storytelling and it'll be good to go.

Jonathan Fortunato, AKA Johnny Fortune, AKA F


Birth Place
London, England; United Kingdom

Tall, lean, and all rebellion. Fortunato is considerably handsome in a "bad boy" way, with firm and sharp features, a slender but taut build, and golden-brown skin. Fitting with his punk rock "chic", he dresses in an almost meticulously messy fashion, with dark clothes contrasted by the occasional splash of bright colour. Always in a pair of scuffed boots, frayed jeans and old shirts, "Johnny Fortune" is an embodiment of punk disinterest.
When he is sufficiently "charged up" with psionic and emotional energy, the veins throughout Fortunato's body become enlarged and increase in vascularity, giving him a "wormy" appearance, and his eyes take on a bright orange glow that slowly increases in intensity.

Drawn Card

Card Manifestation
The best way to describe Fortunato's Ace is "emotional vampirism". By inducing and maintaining strong emotional states in those around him, such as rage, lust, euphoria, or ecstasy, Fortunato can "feed" on the psychic energies given off by the individuals feeling them. However, this takes some small level of focus, and only "positive" or energetic emotions can feed him. Depressive or low-energy states cannot be fed on, and in fact, can starve the Ace.
Fortunato, once significantly "charged up" with this emotional energy, can accomplish many psionic feats. These include the ability to read the psychic "residue" of an object or environment with concentration, skim the surface thoughts of individuals and broadcast his own (though this skill is incredibly uncomfortable for John), telekinetically manipulate relatively large objects with effort, and emit focused waves of "force", although most of these abilities quickly drain his reserves and are generally only used as a last resort.
This energy also gives Fortunato vitality and stamina, allowing him to avoid rest for extended periods of time, as long as the energy isn't expended in any of the above methods.

Character History
As befitting the chaotic lifestyle of a wannabe rockstar, Fortunato was an unforeseen consequence of wild love between Felix Fortunato, a Black-British London native, and Layla Kinds, a free-spirited American college student studying abroad. The result of alcohol, drug use, and uninhibited youthful vigour, Layla's pregnancy came as a shock to the couple, but after what seemed like days of arguing and discussion, the two of them decided to keep the baby. While the life of a college student was difficult for Layla and equally so for Felix, a musician and occasional street hustler, the two managed to hold their hectic lives together, for the baby. After 3 years (including a deferral for her pregnancy), once Layla had attained her post-grad, Felix had agreed to fly back to America with his partner and their son, Jonathan, in part due to Felix lacking any real anchor at home.
Upon returning to the States, Layla used her degree in Communications and found work as an editor at a local publishing agency in her hometown of Seattle, and Felix found work in construction, and the two eventually got married due to a sense of necessity.

Johnny began developing an interest in music at an early age, and as he grew to adolescence, became more and more involved in the heavy music scene of Seattle. This not only acted as a way for him to better express his artistic thoughts but also to help him cope with the growing tension at home as the cracks that were apparent at the beginning of his parents' marriage began to grow clearer.
By the time he was 16, the two had divorced, forcing a thin veneer of cordiality for their son, going so far as to share custody. However, this superficial peace hid venomous attacks between the two, with John caught in the middle, and he began to act out as a result. He became an underachiever, with his grades and attendance in high school dropping, and threw himself further and further into music, focusing on grunge and punk as an outlet for his rebellious anger. He drank, began taking drugs, and hung out with other "burnouts", all to the chagrin of his parents who were convinced it was either a phase or the fault of the other.
This went on until his first year of community college, as the snarky young man found a group of like-minded musical peers. Combined with his disinterest in general education, Jonathan quickly dropped out of studies and became a founding member of the punk rock group Prana Piranha, even going so far as to take the stage name "Johnny Fortune" as the band's lead guitarist. This led to him quickly moving out from home and in with his bandmates.

For some time, the group took on shows in dive bars and dark basements in Seattle before attempting to branch out, working shows in D.C., Boston, and Philadelphia, all funded by odd jobs and bottom-level retail work. Eventually, the group moved to New York in early 2016, shacking up in a cramped Harlem apartment in a rundown building, happily playing at dingy events for an equally rowdy and raucous audience. It was during one such performance that the Wild Card virus was released over the skies of NYC, and while the effects weren't as immediate in the outlying neighbourhoods of the Bowery, Harlem nevertheless fell victim.
The event was broken up by riot police who were attempting to stem the tide of chaos slowly spreading throughout the borough, using force to keep people in line and in their homes in a futile effort to quarantine the virus. Eventually, after a violent altercation between the showgoers and the officers in attendance, the band and those not arrested in the riot were forced to escape and hideout. It was during the coming days, laying low in their apartment, that Jonathan fell gravely ill, locked away in his room.

While the world fell to pieces outside and martial law descended, Fortunato underwent extraordinary changes. He began noticing he could feel, or "taste", the emotions of those around him, specifically powerful emotions such as anger or joy. As he "fed" more and more on this psychic energy, John learned he could utilise this energy for a variety of effects, discovering he could move objects and hear thoughts.
Eventually, as his strength recovered and he practised his abilities in secret amongst his band, the military lockdown was lifted, and America tried to move on from the disaster. Amidst the political and social upheaval, Prana Piranha thrived as flocks of youths, frustrated at the state of things, were drawn to the loud and anti-establishment sounds of the band, with underground concerts becoming famous due to the telekinetic acts performed by "Johnny Fortune" being misconstrued as complex special effects. John also used these events to secretly feed on the mass euphoria brought about by the music and environment.

In short time, the band moved into the outskirts of the newly-christened Jokertown due to both the lowered rent and the symbolic act of rebellion that came with it, throwing a middle finger towards the government and followers of its rhetoric. Currently, John and Prana Piranha work gigs in and around the former Bowery, for Jokers and Nats alike, occasionally working gigs at The Funhouse. However, John keeps his status as an Ace secret to almost everyone other than the band, and has been staying low otherwise.

Jokertown Role
Eric O'Hara

The sea-salt of sweat. The warmth of gyrating bodies. The thumping of hearts, the noise of applause and raucous screams, all tumbling into a wave of stimulation, overcoming the senses, bringing them to light. To Eric, watching the humans move to the beat of drums and the whine of guitars, it was like he was tasting life again, crashing against him in waves in time to the music.
That's what he loved about The Smell.
It represented more to him than a pit stop for momentary rebellion, or a haven for the less compliant. It was a beacon for an unfiltered expression of humanity, of life, that he knew he'd never see again. And he drank it in, every single drop, savouring the sticky warmth in the air, the dimmed lights and sounds. He was swaying, he knew, ever so slightly, to the beat of the song, the harsh guitar cutting through him like a knife, and he loved it.

"Hey, man," comes a voice, smooth and clear above the noise. "Eric, you listening?"

The young Brujah, yanked clean from his trance, blinks before turning his attention back to Reyes, the Toreador with the skin coloured like sunkissed sand.

"Yeah, man, sorry," he clears his throat, leaning back into the seat tucked away in the corner of one of the many rooms housed in the labyrinth of the building. "Just got caught up in the music."

There's a flash of clear white as Rey smiles, a genuine expression, and shakes his head.

"Well, don't let our crumbling world distract you from the good vibes, jefe."

"O'Hara, stop fucking around," a lean, mousey blonde interjects, sneering. "We're talking serious shit here. Some of us are actually worried about what the fuck is happening."

Janette. A Brujah, like Eric, all sharp angles and a permanent scowl. Always starting fights, always overcompensating.

"Jan, we're all on edge, it's fine," Rey reassures her, placing a hand on her thigh, and Eric can't help but smile as she almost immediately softens at his touch. If she could blush, he had a feeling she'd be blood-red.

"Listen, I know why we're here," Eric motions to the small group secluded away with him, all Kindred, all neonates, all afraid. "But what's this gonna accomplish? We're gonna talk our way out of the fact that we're in the shit?"

"The whole point of a Rant, O'Hara, is to talk. To come up with solutions, or at the very least, open discussion."

"Yeah, Jan, but what the hell are we gonna do anyway? Jack sixty-nined the Elders, and no one knows what the fuck to do about it. There's not much a little talk is gonna fix, other than figuring out where to bunk down."

"You really think it was Jack?" asks Benji, a docile Brujah with a shock of black hair and wide, innocent eyes. Eric, like every other neonate in the city, was left almost completely in the dark as to the events that transpired over the last few weeks and months. Shadow wars and backstabbing from private rooms, those were some of the rumours. But everyone knew Smiling Jack. And everyone knew what he was capable of.

"I dunno, man. I've been here, what, a year? Less? I've spoken to the guy twice. Once, when I was welcomed into the city, and another time up at the Last Round. He sat down with me and Jones and Colette, and he bought us all a round. Started talking about where everything was going, the Cam and the Masquerade and all of that. I remember looking him in the eye, and he said he'd do anything as long as it meant setting us, the humans, everyone, free. And I didn't see a single moment of hesitation, not fear or regret or even anger. Just... Calm."

"Look," Rey cuts in again, running a hand through his dark hair. "Whether or not Jack did or didn't do it, the point is we're all stuck in the middle of it. The elders, whatever's left, they're not gonna be any help. They're all holed up at the Lounge tonight, making friends and kissing ass like the Cam leeches. Right now, we gotta watch out for each other, understand? All of us."

Rey flashed another one of those warming smiles, and Eric knew he had everyone in the palm of his hand. Rey might not have been the oldest, the most influential, or even the most popular Kindred in the city, but to those who knew him, he was a friend. Someone you could trust. It didn't hurt he looked like he walked straight out of a telenovela, either.
The others murmured and nodded in agreement, eyes locked on the young Toreador like he was reaching out and grasping at their minds, their thoughts. He was just that good.

"Eric," the smile disappeared, and his eyes took on a warmer, sincere look. "I know Barnette was one of the guys killed in the crossfire. He was paying for accommodation for a lot of the newcomers, bought up rent for some places Downtown."

"I'm fine, man."

"Come on, O'Hara," his eyes hardened, just for a moment, and Eric felt a pang of hurt. "I have a place. You can hole up with me and Colette for a while. Doesn't gotta be anything permanent, jefe, just until we find you something better, something permanent."

"I'm fine, Rey," Eric waved off his concern, avoiding his eyes. He knew the Toreador was struggling to keep his own haven afloat now, amidst the chaos of the power vacuum, and he wasn't about to add to the burden of a sinking ship. "I have a couple months left until Miss Carlton kicks down my door for cash. Trust me."

There was a moment of quiet, drowned out solely by the band playing behind the group, and Rey's gaze hardened again. Eric thought he'd protest further before the vampire relented with a shrug, and the Brujah felt his cold muscles relax.

"Hey, look, I'm gonna get some fresh air, alright? Don't miss me too much, Jan."

With a wink and flip of the bird, O'Hara lifted himself off the couch and manoeuvred his way through the smokey room, inhaling a dead breath as he felt the thumping bass of the drums slowly pulsate through his body. As he walked passed the hidden rooms and open doors, smelling of piss and sweat and wrapped in a skin of graffiti and vulgar imagery, the dead man felt the thumping in his chest slowly weaken, the music softening, before he found his way to the side entrance of the club.

He stepped out into the alley, cold and dark, and he expected himself to shiver in the frosty wind. He didn't. Old human habits die hard.
Watching as a few clubgoers stumbled around in the dark, illuminated only by the flickering neon writing the spelt out "The Smell" and the moon that hung lazily in the sky, Eric ran a hand through his hair pensively, staring at the wet pavement.
He knew he didn't have a few months left. His rent was already passed due, and he could only ignore the human landlord for so long before she kicked his cashless ass out. And a Kindred without a haven during a time like this was a Kindred that was as good as dead.

Well. Deader.

Eric O'Hara


Kindred | 12th Generation | Brujah | Anarch

Eric has always been an idealist and a humanist, but prior to his Embrace, he expressed these beliefs quietly and with subtlety. After that final Kiss, however, O'Hara took on the infamous temperament of the Brujah clan, becoming passionate, forthright, and loud. Whilst many Elders look upon this behaviour as that of a petulant youth, beneath the aggression and punk attitude lies an empathic young man with good intentions.
As with many younger vampires, O'Hara doesn't hold the same ideology or outlook found in older Kindred and considers himself a progressive force, pushing himself to work against his Beast and striving towards "Olympic ideals" unknowingly lifted directly from ancient Brujah teachings. He believes that everyone should strive for mental and physical achievement through knowledge and experience.
As a Neonate, Eric also still holds a strong sentimental attachment to mortals and his former life as a human, and becomes increasingly defensive of his family and past should they be insulted or threatened.

Born in 1984 to William and Melinda O'Hara, Eric grew up as the middle child of three in a working-class neighbourhood of Queens. Spending most of his life working in one way or another, be it part-time jobs whilst studying, or helping his sister take care of their baby brother, O'Hara knew what it meant to straddle the poverty line. His mother cleaned houses and his father was a foreman, yet the two found ways to provide for their family.
Due to this upbringing, Eric was a first-hand witness to the consequences of furthering the gap between the lower and upper class. He developed a disdain for figures of hypocritical authority and a dislike of power in general, finding himself drawn to the budding grunge and anti-consumerist culture of the 1990s.

Eventually, the young man forced his way into college (partially at his parents' behest), attending Queens College to study literature and philosophy. It was during his studies that Eric was unknowingly introduced to his first vampire.
Delilah Carn was a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, and she was smooth, loud, tough, and opinionated. Eric was in love. She, in turn, was taken by Eric's grounded perspective of the world and his innate desire to cause change. Quickly, the two developed an on-off relationship over the following months.

On his 21st birthday, however, Eric's life as he knew it came to an end. During a night of drunken celebration, Eric and a handful of classmates were involved in a fatal accident, their car finding itself wrapped around the front of a semi. While most of his classmates died, Eric survived, barely, with mortal wounds. He was hospitalised and considered to be in critical condition. No one believed he'd live through the week.
Delilah quickly caught wind of the situation and paid him a visit. In her grief, accentuated by her brash Brujah attitude, Delilah Embraced Eric in order to save whatever vestige of him that was left.

As Delilah was an Anarch merely visiting Camarilla territory, she knew her violation of the Traditions, specifically the Right of Creation, would come with a severe punishment. Deciding to flee back to the Free States for sanctuary, she convinced Eric to come with her. During their cross-country road trip, she explained to him the fundamentals of their kind, such as their rules and how to survive.
Once they'd reached San Diego, Delilah spent time requesting sanctuary for her and her childe in order to prevent them from meeting the Final Death. In the end, a judgement was made: as Eric had no choice over his Embrace, he would be welcomed into the Anarch States. However, due to Delilah's negligence, she was to be expelled in order to prevent further conflict with surrounding Camarilla states.
Before Delilah was forced to flee, she got into contact with an old friend, Quinton Lanoux, a wandering Gangrel from New Orleans who had a history with her sire. Requesting, pleading, as a friend for him to watch over Eric and to teach him the basics of their kind, Quinton hesitantly agreed and took the fledgeling under his wing temporarily.

Over the years, Quint and Eric travelled throughout the Free State territories, steering clear of San Francisco due to its Camarilla ties, and Quint even trained Eric in the art of Fortitude in order help better his odds of survival. Eventually, the duo found themselves in Los Angeles, and Quint decided it was time to cut the neonate loose in order to allow him to make it on his own. Using contacts of his and Delilah's, the local Elders funding low-tier Havens granted residence to Eric in a Downtown apartment. The two said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.
In the months since his arrival, Eric has made a handful of acquaintances and even a friend in the form of Xavier Reyes, commonly called "Rey" by his friends. However, in the wake of the recent chaos and the lowered numbers of Elders in the city, Eric's Haven has been financially compromised, and he and the other neonates of the city are now on edge, unsure about their place or the safety of the Free States.

Delilah "Lily" Carn
Kindred | 11th Generation | Brujah | Anarch

Eric's sire, this raven-haired rebel was Embraced in the early 19th century during the blossoming years of the romanticised "Wild West". Due to the nature of her childe's (Eric's) Embrace, Lily was forced to abandon him in the Free States and is currently moving from place to place in order to throw off members of the Camarilla's blood hunt. Here whereabouts are unknown.

Xavier "Rey" Reyes
Kindred | 12th Generation | Toreador | Anarch
An ally and friend to Eric since his time in Los Angeles, Rey was Embraced in the 1960s and became embroiled in the budding punk culture of the 1970s and onwards, using music as his own personal expression of art. Today, he doesn't play as often as he'd like to but takes the occasional opportunity to grab his guitar, keeping the rebellious spirit of punk rock alive.

Quinton "Quint" Lanoux
Kindred | 10th Generation | Gangrel | Independent

An older Cajun Gangrel who was acquaintances with Lily's sire and, in turn, Lily herself. Lily used this "friendship" in order to convince Quint to adopt Eric temporarily in order to help him gain an understanding of the Kindred world, and the two have since developed a stoic father-son relationship. Currently wandering somewhere in the Midwest, Quint also sparingly funnels information through to Eric concerning his family, using a network of nomadic Gangrel contacts throughout the country.
© 2007-2016 — Source on Github
BBCode Cheatsheet