Ezekiel

World of Darkness: City of Angels

<Snipped quote by Ezekiel>

Esther's CS is still in the wipping process, but it should be done before later.

@Briza

I saw this, but I'm still willing to accept the charactee as is, and you post up when finished.

World of Darkness: City of Angels

@Rawk @Briza @Kingfisher

Sheets all accepted, those seem to be the only completed CSs uplodaded, so, feel free to post in the character tab.

World of Darkness: City of Angels

Name: Henry Locke
Age: Mid-Thirties/Presumed at least as old as the continental US
Title: Previous owner of the Sunset Lounge. Now fulfills some unestablished role in the running of the Free State
Biography:

Henry Locke was neither a particularly new, nor prominent name in the goings on of Los Angeles' 'night' life until very recent times. Most Kindred who knew the city for any great length of time might have encountered him, in some new minor project or the next, but he was usually gone before long, staying away from the city for greater stints than he remained. There seemed to be no real pattern to this, no riding in on the winds of change or storm of fury, simply a transient, something a little uncommon, but not unheard of, in the machinations of the Kindred.

This all changed in the early 90s. After a spate of local gang activity, forest fires and the like left a particularly fancy new apartment overlooking Downtown LA stuck on the market, Henry Locke purchased the property that would become the Sunset Lounge. It remained his personal private sanctuary for some years while he ingratiated himself with the local kine and kindred forces that be, never enough to step near the rungs of influence, but enough to make sure he wasn't treading on toes. It was the late 90s before he set upon the idea of a bar, but after that it was swiftly designed and opened. Modern chic that was somewhat cutting edge for its time, it was a quick draw for Kindred seeking something a little more refined and calm than the usual Anarch haunts and dive bars. Henry never looked to be exclusive, and his manner of a fairly down-to-Earth British migrant never changed, but soon the Sunset Lounge became one of the more popular destinations for those in power, and those seeking to rub shoulders with them.

The importance of the Lounge to the Kindred society of LA only increased as the Elder murders began. In a night of bloody violence, many of the cities most established Kindred were slain, or driven into hiding. Their factions crumbled around them, and retaliatory violence began. The Last Round, previous unofficial Elysium of the Anarch movement in the city was firebombed, along with many other 'safe zones' of the Kindred nights. But among all this, the Sunset Lounge stood. An oasis of calm in stormy seas, for whatever reason, Locke seemed able to keep the situation in hand. This did not sit well with some, looking for a figure to blame.

During Christopher Houghton's brief and bloody period as the declared Baron of LA, one of his most dramatic acts was to pin much of the violence of that night, and which had followed, on Henry Locke, calling for a Blood Hunt. More than this, he accused Henry of working with the Sabbat and Camarilla to weaken the Free State, to leave LA open to outside take over. Whatever their true thoughts on Houghton's ability to rule, or evidence, most of LA's Kindred through their weight behind the Kid, if temporarily, he was a moth to the flame for all those looking the leadership following the deaths of their previous Elders and sanctuaries, and the hammer came down hard on Henry. The same night the Hunt was called for, the Sunset Lounge was destroyed in yet another devastating bombing. Brujah leader, Catlin Monroe, was said to be among those consumed in the blast, doing much to weaken their support for the Kid, early in his reign.

Despite this, Henry survived, or previously escaped the blast, along with Catlin (now known to be Yanci). Through the mysterious Toreador in disguise, he was able to plan something of a reprisal against the Kid, with his errant Childe, Eva. While the Kindred Civil War began in earnest, Christopher never gave up on his search for Henry, committing resources that would have been best securing his rule, to hunting down his latest paranoid haunch. Eventually he got what he desired, Henry Locke brought to him in chains.

Whatever happened that fateful night, the Kid came out the worse, a pincer movement, based on the false victory of capturing Henry, fully exposed him to Eva's gambit and sudden attack. Childe defeated Sire. Those limited few who were there recall a brief, but intense conversation between Henry and Eva, the last she would have before entering Torpor. One of Eva's Coterie, Nathaniel, a Nostferatu, took badly to her apparent abandonment of them, striking back at those he held responsible, namely the rest of Eva's Coteria, Yanci in particular.

Henry's vengeance was swift, before the night was over, Nathaniel was dead, and Henry had joined Yanci in their current roles of running the Free State. Yanci is the obvious Baron for the Kindred to flock to, but Henry's role at large remains a mystery, simply that he is present, and watching. Some might call him a Sheriff to Yanci's Prince, enforcing her law, but those are not words heard from either party.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

With @MrDidact



The Iron Islands
Pyke

"Do you trust them?" Baela spoke from behind the sparse cover of the cloth divider erected between the pair as she changed. While Pyke had more than enough guest quarters for them to prepare for the evening seperately, both had opted to meet in Luke's room prior to their descent, dismissing the offered servants in exchange for privacy. Whether the Ironborn expected any pre-marital excess between the pair was moot, it mattered more to them both that they might speak in relative private.

"Do I trust that Dalton will do as he promises? Aye." Lucerys finished clasping the side-buckles of his doublet in place. Black in colour with only the slightest detail, and a small copy of his household insignia over his heart, it was of good quality without being ostentatious, as to suit the hall they attended. "I think it would be overly naive to not worry that he may not stick to such limitations, but we need the Greyjoys as allies as much as they need us to fulfill his ambitions. Of all of his full-blooded brothers, Lucerys was the most serious, and spoke with a voice older than his fourteen years.

"I suppose that will have to do." Baela replied. A year younger than her cousin, Baela was the bolder of her sisters, and while she still had the bearing of her youth, there was fire to her being, and words, that matched her infamous father. Any further reply was interrupted by the young Targaryen letting out a hiss of frustration. "Would you mind giving me a hand?" While Luke was more than capable of dressing himself, the style of court was rather more encumbering for women. With a slight pause he stood to move around their ad-hoc divider. Baela's gown was black, but rather than trimmed with red as might be expecting, her bodice was light blue, and the detail across both colours trimmed in white, as to match the House of her mother. While she was largely contained within the confines of the garment, the lacing up the back of her dress was undone. Bold and adventurous, like her cousins, Baela was slightly more tan than her twin sister, or the other women of their family. She waived on arm in a frustrated manner behind her back. "This is most unhelpful."

Lucerys approached her. The Velaryon brothers and Daemon's twins had grown up together, far closer than they were with the cousins they now faced off against. The closeness of children had grown slightly more strained of late, as they approached adulthood. Baela may have been young, but she was already beginning to show the form of an attractive young woman, much as her sister did. Luke, for his own sake, was well-built for his age, and the thoughts and worries which young men felt towards the opposite sex had begun to set in. He paused only for a moment longer before beginning to help his cousin lace the back of her gown.

"You're wasted on them." Lucerys spoke before he could think to hold it in as he finished the last ring of lace. Stunned at himself for a moment, he mumbled through the rest of a sentence; "I...I simply feel we need not have changed for a feast among the Ironborn. Baela turned, laughing slightly, in not an unpleasant manner, before she replied.

"Perhaps, but I would not want to have you show me up hmm?" She squeezed his shoulder as she passed, still smiling; "Oh, and I wouldn't want to fail to impress my future Lord Husband Greyjoy, what with our world-conqering children to make." She looked over her shoulder as she joked, her laugh infecting Lucerys before she spoke again; "Come, let us not keep the murderours raiders waiting."

After the raucous negotiations on the shores of the island, Lord Dalton had invited his guests to the long hall itself, along with all of his bannermen, his top captains, and his finest warriors. Great piles of fish and other creatures of the sea had been gathered and dumped onto the beach for the two dragons to feast on while a similarly hearty table had been laid out for the royal guests. The long hall was packed with wooden tables who were crammed with Ironborn nobles and reavers, all clanking mugs of ale and mead and feasting on crab, squid, and fish as well as a few enormous roasted boars and sides of beef. Ironborn bards gamely pounded out energetic tunes while men arm-wrestled and finger-danced and thrall women danced and entertained the guests.

The Iron Islands rarely saw such festivities outside of weddings and funerals or days devoted to their Drowned God or celebration of a succesful raid. But every man and woman sensed war on the horizon, and the Red Kraken had called the islands to him for one mighty round of merry-making before the ships would begin to sail. Dalton sat on the Seastone Chair of his fathers stretching back untold generations, a throne of oily black stone carved in the visage of the kraken. He had seated Prince Lucerys at the seat of honor on his right side, and Princess Baela next to him. His rock brother Veron sat on his left side and the rest of the high table was filled with those most prominent amongst his kin and his bannermen, including his mother, Lady Morgana Merlyn, his cousin Cotter, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet, and his sister Alannys, who was another of his premier commanders and reavers.

Dalton may have been an impudent man, but even he hadn't been so bold as to seat his salt brother or any of his salt wives, among the guests and pay further insult to the Prince after sealing the negotiation. Theon Pyke, captain of his honor guard, sat, laughing and drinking, with a table full of men with red kraken badges nearby, and helping keep Dalton's salt wives happy. All of the Greyjoys looked much like Dalton. Dark of hair and eye, fair of skin and features, handsome and attractive, but all with scars to show their warrior nature, save for those who were not reavers like Dalton's mother.

The Red Kraken himself stood, raising his tankard of mead as Veron pounded on the table for quiet. Dalton cleared his throat and said, "Tonight we celebrate the new friends we've made in Queen Rhaenyra, and particularly her son Prince Lucerys and his bride to be, Princess Baela. Thanks to them, the Ironborn will once more strike terror into the hearts of the greenlanders, and once more the men of the West and Reach will remember who it is who rule the Sunset Sea. To Queen Rhaenyra! We do not sow!"

The Ironborn took up the call, some calling out their own mottos, or the creed of their god, while many others praised the Red Kraken directly, and even Queen Rhaenyra. Dalton smiled, laughing and sat down to turn to Lucerys and Baela, "I trust you are enjoying yourselves?"

While Lucerys appeared serious, if not enough as to seem surly or disrespectful to their hosts, at least by the fashion of court, Baela looked around her with far more in the way of fascination. The bawdy display of Ironborn celebration captivated her, even if some element was still repugnant. Purple eyes watched both dancing and finger-dancing, and her sing-song voice laughed along, if less overtly, with the men at particular fine examples of both.

"Oh, very much so, my lord Greyjoy." It was Baela who answered, focusing her composure somewhat as she replied to Dalton. Both Baela and Luke had joined in the toast, but otherwise the Prince had remained quiet, still, he managed a response to the Ironborn lord; "It is most interesting, Lord Greyjoy." Despite his severity, Lucerys was not negative in his assessment of the feast, nor did he conceal any thoughts to such, the differences between isles and mainland simply seemed to ensnare him less so than his cousin. As was his manner, he turned to more serious matters; "Do you wish for a representative to accompany us home?"

Dalton smiled at Baela, looking into her eyes as he did. His eyes were more playful now, those of a rakish nobleman, in contrast to the dark lust Baela had seen in his gaze upon the beach. It was still thoroughly clear he desired her however; especially given the fact that he hadn't bothered to conceal it when he gave Baela and her dress a rather lecherous once over once she entered the hall, though practically every Ironborn man and a few of the women had done the same. Dalton broke off the gaze and turned to Lucerys, taking down a swig of mead and saying, "I'm glad to hear it. We rarely get the chance to entertain mainlanders. And never royals. So, I made sure that only the best that the Iron Islands have to offer was put out for your honor."

The Red Kraken grinned at Lucerys before saying, "Indeed. I wanted one of my kin to accompany you on your journey back to Dragonstone, to give my regards to King Daemon and your mother personally. And so that the Islands could have a voice in your councils." Dalton wrapped a hand around his brother Veron's shoulder and kept smiling as he pulled the youth away from his conversation with their older, broad-shouldered, heavily scarred, and grizzled cousin Cotter and their sister Alannys with her high, sharp cheekbones, short salt-bleached black hair, and athlethic form emphasized by a leather doublet rather than a dress.

Veron looked much like his brother, but was unscarred and his hair was cut short. He was shorter as well and more wiry, but still well-built. His eyes and features were as handsome and cocky as his brother's, but there was more friendly jovialty to Veron's visage than Dalton's. Dalton said, "My little brother, Veron. Only a year older than yourself, Lucerys. But he's almost as good a sailor as me and almost as good a sword. He's also not dumber than a sack of bricks like a lot of my reavers. As my heir, I thought him as good a choice as any."

The younger Greyjoy brother dipped his head and smiled at Lucerys and Baela, "My brother flatters me, somewhat, but I would be highly honored to accompany you both back to Dragonstone and to offer the fealty of the Iron Islands to the Queen personally. I've never left the bounds of the Sunset Sea. I'd also be the first Ironborn to ever ride on dragonback."

Dalton laughed, "Aye and for once you'll get to brag about something to me. What do you say, Lucerys, think my brother can keep you both company on the way back? I plan on taking the long way myself if you go through with this parley, but I trust Veron to speak for me in the meantime."

"We would be welcome to have him." Lucerys nodded, the Kraken's own brother was something of a steal for their cause, acting as both a direct link to Dalton and some insurance that he would do as he was asked, to a degree. The Prince paused to sup from his drink at that, although it was his bethrothed which struck up further conversation.

Baela may have been young, but she was not unaware of the meaning behind the looks many had given her since she arrived at the hall. Valyrian beauty was almost ageless, and she was beginning to grow beyond simply the boon of her birth. A lesser person may have been uncomfortable in a room of reavers who were likely only the risk of punishment away from taking her in the very hall, but Baela was ever daring, and flaunted their depravity.

"Alas you will have to ride with the Prince, Moondancer is still too small to carry two riders across such a distance." Baela made a point to like ever so slightly downcast at that as she spoke to the younger Greyjoy. "Plenty of land between the Sunset Sea and the Narrow, anywhere in particular excite you?"

Veron smirked and said, "More's the pity, but I'm sure Prince Lucerys can keep me company well enough. And it's fortunate that I'm the one leaving. If Dalton was flying, even your dragon probably couldn't lift his arse off of the ground." Dalton laughed, "Only because of the size of my stones." The Red Kraken laughed and shouted at a serving maid to refill his tankard, pulling her into his lap as she did so. The maid giggled, evidently enjoying his advances. Veron laughed and replied to Baela, "I admit, I've never seen much of the greenlands. They talk much of Casterly Rock and Lannisport, and I would be glad to see them. But that isn't very likely, unless I go to help burn it." Veron smiled ruefully.

He leaned in towards Baela, a thoughtful look crossing his face, and said, "There aren't many places between here and your home that would be amenable to our presence I don't think... but what of Seagard? Few Ironborn have ever set foot there without intending to raid it. But I hear it is a fine place. And close to the ocean. We could stop there after our flight. I believe Lord Mallister is well-inclined to Queen Rhaenyra as well. If he sides with us, it's only to our benefit that we inform him of the pact we have made here and my brother's eventual command of the western black navies. What do you say?"

"I suspect the arrival of two dragons, a prince, princess and an heir to the Iron Isles might help make his mind up for him." Baela laughed, leaning back in her seat for the moment, twirling a few errant strands of her hair between two fingers, watching the Red Kraken's advances towards the serving maid. In her slight pause, Luke picked up the conversation.

"Mhm, Seagard it will be then. The Riverlands will likely be split in alleigance, best to grasp an idea early on of where the lines will be drawn." Lucerys was still serious, but not so much as to not enjoy his surroundings. "He'll likely try to feast us as well, whoever knew the start of civil war was so fattening."

Veron smiled at Baela and laughed along with her, then turned to Lucerys and said, "Excellent. Not only will I be the first Greyjoy to come in peace to the eagle nest. I'll be the first to fly there." Veron smiled again, evidently much enamored with the idea of flying on dragonback. His countenance was far more gentler than his brother's, far more thoughtful. He seemed much more the optimistic dreamer than the hedonistic and aggressive reaver that Westerosi so often associated with the Ironborn.

Dalton soon interjected in the conversation, reaching under the serving maid's clothes with one hand while he nursed a tankard of mead in the other, "Ironborn never eat so well as when there's war. And I expect to eat very well in this one. But we have a lot of ways to keep in shape, despite that." Dalton sneered lecherously at Baela and downed the rest of his tankard.

He gestured to the rest of the longhall, where Ironborn were bare-knuckle brawling, wrestling, and dancing with equal intensity, gusto, and ferocity. Several were playing the famous finger dance, with one of Lord Harlaw's men throwing an axe at one of Dalton's honor guard. The man nimbly lept over the axe, which almost hit a passerby. The man's comrades cheered as the guardsmen picked up the axe and threw it back at Harlaw's reaver. The Reaver tried to catch the axe instead of leaping over, but he was too clumsy and he fell to the ground in pain as blood burst from where his finger used to be.

Dalton laughed, "The finger dance. Our favorite game." Dalton turned to Lucerys and Baela, "Do the Prince and Princess fancy any of our games? I promise they're a lot of fun."

"I'll play that one." Baela spoke immediately, with a grin not entirely unlike that of a shark moments before the kill, motioning towards the man now writhing in pain from his lost finger. Before Lucerys could muster anything more than a surprised look, she had stood, striding over the table , holding the delicate skirt of her gown over to not entirely draw it over the table, before hopping down. While she may have been dressed as a Princess, she was still the daughter of the Dragon King of the Stepstones, and her gown had been made to not hinder her nearly as much as it might look.

"Tell me how it works." She spoke again, just as Lucerys stood to regard the display with something akin to nervousness, even if it barely graced his features before he controlled it. The grin, however, did not slip from Baela's lips, her eyes as wild as her father at his most daring.

Every man and woman in the hall stopped to stare as the Princess went to join the reavers playing the finger dance. Some whispered amongst themselves, surprised by the sight of a greenlander participating in one of their games and a woman at that. Others scoffed and made bets on how long she would last. But many men and women crowded around the group, excited by the prospect, with some even cheering her on.

Dalton was the most pleased of all, and he stood from his own chair to walk over. Dalton said, "The rules are simple. Each player takes a turn throwing the axe at another. That player must either catch the axe or dodge it without falling on their arse. The game can end when someone is wounded or when one player yields."

The Red Kraken turned to address the hall, "It looks like our dear Princess Baela wants to try her hand at a real game. Being a good host, I must oblige her. But neither can I participate. I am bound by guest right after all, and if I played her, I would surely break that oath. And I still seek the Princess' hand. It would be difficult to give a ring to her with if either of us had a few fingers missing."

His men all laughed at that, with some others cheering or light-heartedly jeering. Dalton was well-known as a master of the finger dance, and had been skilled enough to never lose a finger to it. Dalton spoke over the noise, "So who wishes to try their luck? Anyone?" Most of the reavers seemed reluctant to compete against a woman, and perhaps some were afraid of the idea of losing to one. But many others raised their voices to volunteer.

Dalton made a show of debating on who to choose but then he selected one of his honor guard. A thick-necked, long-bearded, tall slab of a man who looked every inch the archetypal beserking Ironborn warrior, with multiple missing teeth, and many tattoos and scars. The pinky finger on his left hand was missing as well. Dalton spoke to Baela, "Ulrik. One of my best killers. Not too late to back out, Princess. It is a dangerous game."

"It won't be the number of fingers I possess stopping me from marrying you, Lord-Reaver." Baela swung her hair back as she smirked, removing a trailing ribbon from her gown, she used it to tie up the silver-blonde mane of her hair, turning on the spot to regard the man upon whom she had been faced. "You know too well I am a promised lady." She continued the jibe as she raised an eyebrow, her eyes studying the large Ironborn from head to toe.

"Are all the men of the Iron Isles so...handsome." She continued to tease, although her target shifted, a cat-like grin crossing her lips as she mocked him, exhaling as she relaxed into a stance all too familiar to her, loose, but poised to strike. Hidden beneath her gown, powerful legs poised at the ready, all outward signs of release a masquerade.

"I believe you are supposed to throw your axe at me then?" She opened her eyes as she decided she was ready, the smirk returning in an instant.

Ulrik snarled, obviously not one used to being teased by someone half his age and height, and a girl at that. Dalton only laughed uproariously, and the crowd began banging their tankards on the tables and stomping their feet, most of them chanting Ulrik's name as he cocked his arm back and got ready to throw. Veron and a few others however took up Baela's name in their own chant and the chorus of voices reached a fevered crescendo right before Ulrik leaned back and let the axe fly at Baela's hand.

Baela was in motion the moment the axe left Ulrik's hand, turning her body so that she was out of the path of the throw, her eyes tracing where the axe would be, not where it was. She had never played the finger dance before, but her father had once taught her to juggle, and she'd since practiced with a variety of often sharp objects. This wasn't so different.

The axe sung in the air, although the Princess had her eyes on the spot she anticipated the axe to be, rather than its flight, giving her just enough time to catch the eye of Veron, her adrenaline giddy grin still in place, before in the next moment, she reached out. The handle of the axe met her grip, and her fingers clenched. She allowed the momentum to carry her, spinning on the spot with the Ironborn's much greater strength, turning it into a throw of her own. She was graceful, but it could not be mistaken for dancing, she was not her sister. Rhaena was a princess who knew how to be a warrior, Baela was a warrior who knew how to be a princess. Her arms chorded, before unleashing the axe, momentum, and her own force, added to the throw, sailing it in the air towards Ulrik.

There was a collective gasp as the Ironborn saw Baela catch the axe deftly out of the air, with many grown men openly gawping in disbelief at the sight. More than one even spit out his ale. Veron and most of the younger men in the hall looked on in awe, and even Dalton had a wide grin on his face. Ulrik was the most stunned of all. As Baela turned to return the throw, there was a great roar from the crowd. The axe flew back at Ulrik with incredible speed and force, and the big reaver made a visible effort to collect himself as he reached out to grasp the axe, not to be outdone by some greenlander girl.

There was a keening howl of pain and a gush of scarlet splashed over a few of the onlookers, including a drop on Dalton's cheek. Ulrik gripped his right hand where his middle finger used to be, breathing in rapidly as he knelt to the floor. He grit his teeth and looked at Baela before suddenly smirking, "I yield."

A cheer reveberated through the hall, with Veron Greyjoy leading the chant of Baela's name. Dalton took up the cheer as well, lifting his tankard to the Princess' honor and drinking heartily, blood and all. Various Ironborn smacked Baela on the back as if she were a man and one even thrust a tankard of mead into her hand as the younger Greyjoy came to Baela and Lucerys, saying, "You Princess keep finding ways to surprise and thrill. I've never seen my kin so enthused by a mainlander. They're already calling you Baela Bladedancer."

Despite the general ruckus and bawdiness of the hall in response to her actions, Baela remained poised, even as she flushed with victory, curtseying, in a manner which was only half a jest, at the receieved cheers and chanting. Her grin became a little less ladylike as the Ironborn approached her most closely, even the wildest of the Targaryen daughters was unused to the physical touch of reavers as they congratulated her, taking a moment to compose herself once their hands had stopped clasping her back, straightening her gown slightly as she laughed along with them.

"Aye, I don't suppose our foes would be happy to gaze upon this sight." Lucerys replied to the Younger Greyjoy, smiling slightly as his concern for Baela's wellbeing drained away. "We'll leave early enough in the morning, but that is no cause to not appreciate the feast in full." The young prince chuckled, approaching Baela to wish her his own congratulations.

Veron nodded his head to Lucerys, "Aye. My kin and countrymen may have seen you as convenient allies. But now they may start to see you as proper friends. Though you might not like having a bunch of salty reavers as friends." Veron smirked and began introducing the royal pair to several young Ironborn nobles, sons and daughters and kinsmen of high lords and great captains or warriors. The feast continued in earnest, with the drink flowing freely and fresh food and women arriving regularly.

Dalton had played the finger dance himself and won against several reavers, then proceeded to get terribly drunk, which only exacerbated his appetites for wine, women, and blood. By the time midnight arrived, he had already beaten three men bloody in fist fights and had taken five women in the longhall for all to see. Veron in the meantime had passed the time by chatting amiably with the prince and princess, and even taught them a few Ironborn shanties, vulgar, obscene, and loud chants that shook the hall with drunken singing.

When the party was winding down, Dalton stood up, stripped to the waist with his black hair askew and blood covering his knuckles. He held up a tankard of mead and shouted, "Cheers to Prince Lucerys and Baela Bladedancer! They're not bad guests for greenlanders!" There was a roar of approval and the Red Kraken continued, "And here's to good food, good drink, and loose women. There'll be more to come. From Oldtown to Lannisport and Harrenhall, we shall take what is ours and write our names in fire and sword. And it will all be paid for in blood and iron! In the morning, we set sail for war!" The resulting cheer was even louder and lusty than the first, as the reavers imagined the plunder and glory they would win.

"What is dead may never die!"
"WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!"

World of Darkness RP. Intrigue and Conflict on the West Coast

Nice! Work has been busier than I thought this weekend so I've not had the free time I wanted, but we will be moving forwards with the OOC in the next few days as planned.

World of Darkness RP. Intrigue and Conflict on the West Coast

WoD is my favorite tabletop RP setting. So much love. So reading everything it's definitely vampire heavy, which I can understand since Vampire the WoD's flagship, but you're allowing other races from the looks of things. Ok, so my question is thus: Everything I've read is very much the Classic WoD setting, but would you be open to New WoD creatures that didn't exist in the classic, such as Beasts and Sin-Eaters?

@ProPro

Unfortunately I'm going to say no to anything from nWoD, not because I don't think it's a cool idea, but just because the game is very heavily influenced by the built up Classic setting of Los Angeles.

If you're struggling for other ideas, feel free to hop on the discord and we can discuss :)

<Snipped quote by Hallion>

Shouldn't be an issue at all. LA isn't ruled by the factions Ravnos is "neutral" to. LA is neutral.

@Ruby

I second for this. As it's not immediately obvious in the int check, just to clarify, Ruby is co-gming this, so, anything she says is also the 'official' line on it.

World of Darkness RP. Intrigue and Conflict on the West Coast

Would the right Hunter characters be welcome?

@Andrew Blade

They would indeed,

Side note.

OOC incoming in the next few days.

World of Darkness RP. Intrigue and Conflict on the West Coast

The Kid is Dead. Long Live the Queen

Welcome, one and all, to the Anarch Free State. The last true bastion of Anarch power in North America (Don't let the Camarilla-lite in San Francisco tell you otherwise). LA has long been a melting pot of both mortal and supernatural kind, Los Angeles is most notorious, for those in the known, for its vibrant kindred community, covertly controlling the new cultural capital of the world as it grew from a series of tiny rural communities to a metropolis on the Sunset Sea. The unique location, role and rapid growth of the city has enabled it to remain free of the rule of the Camarilla and Sabbat, the Anarch Free State already too deeply entrenched along the West Coast before either turned their sights on the fledgling rebel nation.

Without the stifling rule of the Camarilla Princes, or the religious fury of the Sabbat to control the West Coast, the Supernatural as a whole has flourished, new and unique communities of Kindred, as well as the other beings of myth, now call the Western edge of the world home. To refer to the 'night life' of LA as idyllic would be inaccurate, the world of darkness is still a place of plots, murder and power. Anarchs are just as cutthroat as their Kindred elsewhere, and the age old conflicts between the races of the night continue just as they do the world over. The difference is that the City of Angels lives, exists and thrives on hope, the earnest, often mislead belief, that one can truly carve a better world, a better life.

But hope is dangerous, and the shadow gathers around the edges of the glittering lights of Hollywood, like moths to a flame.

Setting Introduction

For those of you who are unfamiliar, the World of Darkness setting, and thus, the setting of the rp, the premise is fairly simple. Take the modern world and make the myths of our nightmares, the supernatural, real. Then turn the world several degrees 'darker.' The climate is worsening, the governments more corrupt, the multinational corporations more powerful. To the common man the world is much the same, but the horrors that lurk in the dark are true, and the world hangs ever more on the balance of humanities hubris.

The most common, or at least, the most prominent of these supernatural beings are the Kindred, as they call themselves, vampires, is what the teeming masses of humanity would recognize them as. Ever since Caine was cursed as the first vampire, the kindred have been alongside humanity, pulling the strings from behind closed doors, be they castle or boardrooms. The ability and character of a Kindred is defined by his clan, the bloodline from which he or she stems, these can all be found here; http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Clan_(VTM)

Info on the other races of the World of Darkness can be found through the same wiki.

The Kindred of the modern day are mostly divided into three groups, the Camarilla, the Sabbat and the Anarchs. The Camarilla is the oldest of these three and the most powerful. They are the ancient hidden society of the Kindred that set the rules on how Kindred should behave, both towards each other, and humanity. The Camarilla's main purpose, or, what they would have you believe, is the upholding of the 'Masquerade' the deception that keeps the bulk of humanity blind to the existence of the Kindred. While the Sabbat and Anarchs fundamentally disagree with the Camarilla's approach to this, all three factions currently enforce a similar set of rules. Kindred are an urban people, the countryside is ruled by there werewolves who are ancient foes of their kind, and so they are ruled city-by-city. A Camarilla city is ruled by a Prince and a council of 'Primogen' the Elders of the vampire clans within the city.

The Sabbat worship Caine as their unliving god of the night, and seek the open dominion of the Kindred over humanity, the Camarilla view them as insane zealots who read too much into the myths of the Kindred, while they view the Camarilla as merely another obstacle in the way of their rightful place of dominion. Thankfully, the Sabbat are the weaker of the two global powers, and for now are forced to maintain their own version of the masquerade, simply for their own survival, even in the cities and nations they control.

The Anarchs are the smallest of the major groups and are confined to specific parts of the globe where isolation, or the relatively recent industrial and technological age have allowed cities to remain free on the control of either global power. The most famous, and deliberate, example of this is the Anarch Free State of the American West Coast, which for most of the 20th Century has spanned from Washington to Southern California. The Anarchs have a wide variety of beliefs, but mainly are united in their protest against the crushingly hierarchical Camarilla and the frankly insane Sabbat. The Anarch movement grew out of the chaos of the World Wars, which largely distracted the Camarilla and the Sabbat from their open rebellion, and now that the world is stable once more, the Free State has gradually been chipped away. Anarch cities are ruled by 'Barons' and their Coteries, although usually in a much less formal sense than a Prince and Primogen.

In our setting, Los Angeles has been a part of the Anarch Free State, although many kindred loyal to a variety of causes make their home here, alongside other supernatural beings. Recently, the de-facto Baron of LA, an ancient, but perpetually young kindred known as the 'Kid' attempted to impose a more direct rule on LA, openly declaring himself Baron and at war with the Camarilla and pretty much anyone else he did not trust. The following civil war between the Kindred of LA was fierce, and most are still recovering. During that time, one of the Kid's childer (A Kindred whom he himself turned) rebelled against the Kid, slaying him, and draining him of power. While she has disappeared from the every day life of the city, members of her coterie are now prominent in LA society. LA is offically no longer part of the Anarch Free States, instead branding itself it's own Kindred Free State.

OOC

Greetings everyone, this will be the third iteration of a long standing, if off and on, rp series of mine dealing with the city of Los Angeles in the World of Darkness setting. As the brief suggests, the focus, and biggest drive of the storyline are the Kindred (vampires) of the setting, but players will be more than welcome to play the other subsets of the World of Darkness (barring certain characters which are just 'too' powerful for the RP).

The game runes of the Old World of Darkness setting for LA, and 'lore' characters will be open, even if a few changes to the setting have been made. Likewise, the lore state of play is not set in stone, so players can create characters which supersede those which are established (chatting to me about it first).

A final note, the rp will be using its own discord server, which will include several ic update channels, so discord-use would be advisable.

Discord Link; https://discord.gg/p2mGXba

Mass Effect Andromeda: Frontier

All done! Manic writing.

Gazali Coetzee

Gazali Coetzee

Race: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 35
Profile: Engineer
DOB: 2150 CE
Homeworld: Earth

Appearance:



Background:

The Coetzee family were a traditional white Afrikaans family, hailing from Zimbabwe, at least prior to the 'Wind of Change' and following land reforms under the nascent Zimbabwean government. Like many white families at the time, both Afrikaans and the English speaking 'Rhodesians' they fled to South Africa in the 1980s, fearing violent persecution following the loss of their exaggerated political platform under the colonial regimes.

Gazali's recent ancestors lived through the infamous height of the Apartheid regime. While the Coetzee family had not been particularly wealthy in Zimbabwe, the loss of their homestead and the fear they had experienced in the collapse of White rule in the North left them initially indifferent to the suffering of Black South Africans, for fear that any destabilization of the current system would lead to another Wind of Change situation. While this mentality was never truly lost in regards to the older generation, those of the Coetzee family who remembered little of the Rhodesian land reforms soon turned against the principles of the state and they, along with many South Africans, celebrated the fall of Apartheid in the early 90s, expecting the vibrant rebirth of the Rainbow nation.

While South Africa enjoyed a brief span of genuinely positive, if turbulent leadership, the new mission and zeal of the state was eventually subverted by the rise of the Zuma political dynasty. Jacob Zuma's time in officer was characterized by the introduction of State Capture, where the powers of the state were used to convert political capital into very real land and funds, both for South African politicians, and companies doing business in the region. Throughout the next century, right up to the birth of Gazali, the political power in South Africa would swing back and forth between those who attempted to lead through genuine care for the nation, and those willing to increase the power of a growing political class and their beneficiaries. While the political pendulum would swing, systematic corruption would never be fully rooted out from Southern Africa's most prominent nation.

Despite this drain on the nation's growth and international power and prestige never being fully dealt with, South Africa was still one of the 18 nations to sign the Systems' Alliance charter a year before Gazali's birth, and so he grew up in a nation very much looking towards the stars. As with many middling families in South Africa, the Coetzees had defined themselves through generations of succesful public service and this was no different for Gazali. He was educated in the public school system, but in a district where this was no great hindrance. Despite major headway on racial tensions within the nation, other divides still gripped the population of the Rainbow nation and civil unrest was common enough to factor into the young man's adolescence. Arson attacks became increasingly common, a reprisal of previous violent sprees and on several occasions his family were forced to move due to fire damage to their neighborhood. While never hard off in the economic sense, this certainly helped to develop Gazali's survival instincts, and his desire to triumph over the challenges thrown at him.

Rather than continue to university, Gazali joined the SANDF (South African National Defence Force) at the age of 18, at the time the most direct way to work ones way into the Systems Alliances' variety of program for undisguised South Africans. An affinity for science and technology pushed him towards the Engineering cor, where he flourished for several years, enough so that, along with several classes of foreign officers, he was sent to the Royal Academy of Sandhurst to receive officer training, to receive yet further specific training in the field of humanity's ever developing technology. When he returned to South Africa following the completion of his training, he was expected to immediately take an Officer role in the SANDF. Instead he was contacted by the South African Revenue Service. SARS was one of the few authorities within the South African government which had generally remained free from corruptive elements. While it had often had its powers hobbled by aggressive individuals outside of the Authority, it had always looked to bring down those who had benefited too egregiously from State Capture. The Commissioner of SARS at the time had devised a drastic approach to finally bring about the fall of the corrupt political class in South Africa, bringing an end to both the Zuma 'dynasty' and the process of State Capture.

SARS wished to use the new-tech capabilities of individuals like Gazali to effectively cripple the assets of those under investigation for State Capture, a long list of individuals who could relatively easily expect to ignore such accusations. Those working for SARS would act beyond the remit of the law, working to trace the specific transactions linked to political bribes and payments, while also discover the locations of those acting on the ground to ensure that the State's powers were effectively used to bolster those who had paid the right pockets. Both could be achieved simultaneously with access to the Alliance's technological boom, and the right minds to use it. Thus Gazali became a part of a multi-year shadow war within the South African government, a shadow war that quite often turned hot between the intermediaries of the Zuma regime and SARS. Throughout this hidden conflict, Gazali proved exponentially capable in his role, going above and beyond his peers both on the cyber and real front of the 'war' acts that he felt would never earn him much in the way of real recognition.

While publicly this may have been the case, when the last of the old order was turned out of the South African government on charges of corruption and blackmail, no longer having access to the vast illegal sums of funding that had protected them in the past, South Africa volunteered several individuals for the Interplanetary Combatives Training program. While several were well established members of SANDF and more were members of the Systems Alliance with South African backgrounds, one was a man named Gazali Coetzee, who had only ever held non-commissioned ranks, and seemed to hold no formal references of any great skill. Any doubters as to his experience were quickly proven wrong, as he established himself as one of the forerunners in his class of recruits.

Through all seven stages of the training, Gazali proved himself capable. With little prior experience of off-world combat, he found the earlier courses harder, despite the escalating nature of the ICT. As with all candidates, he found himself sent throughout Alliance space and beyond, even doing several stints in covert operations well into the Terminus Systems. In the alien species and governments he encountered, Gazali found much that reminded him of the corrupt government back home he had fought long to topple, and so was somewhat hesitant in his interactions. Despite this, he found the aliens themselves as easy to work with as his human peers, even if he, initially, would never fail to put human interests first.

The final stage of his training comprised of a long deployment on the edges of Alliance Space, principally for recon purposes, but in reality a counter to reports of Batarian Slavers attacking colonies in the region. As with all N7 level assessments, the deployment tested their ability to function as an elite unit, cut off from support and with limited supplies and equipment. Despite this, Gazali's tech expertise enabled them to make the most of what they had, able to boost the detection capabilities of the alliance colonies and set up a far more effective response network pooling their resources. The only major hitch for Gazali, who had grown used to the fierce fighting which they experienced when required to drive off the slavers, was the order to deny support to those nearby colonies who had left the fold of the Systems Alliance. One particularly aggressive outburst on the matter almost earned the man his first course failure, but was instead written up as a minor disciplinary. Once the tour was complete, Gazali was inducted as a full graduate, colloquially known as N7.

His storied career as a special operative of the Systems Alliance continued into his early thirties, to the point that when the secret collective project that would spawn the Normandy began between the Council races, Gazali's name was considered for a post within the project, and later, aboard the ship. Naturally curious, Gazali turned his comprehensive computing ability towards uncovering the reasons behind this suggestion. What he discovered eventually lead to him leaving the Systems Alliance Military. Well accustom to tracing secretive bribes and favours, Gazali followed an increasingly difficult web of transactions and communication back to the source. A trace linked to his disciplinary on the N7 course had brought him to the attention of the secretive organisation, Cerberus. With its talons deep into the hierarchy and structure of the Alliance, Cerberus was attempting to pull strings to have what they felt was a strongly pro-human voice on the combined projects team, yet one who would still be passable for the rest of the crew.

Gazali 'burned' his files and destroyed his personal equipment upon this discovery, doing his best to prevent the possibility that his actions had been detected, although knowing that this could likely be impossible. He resigned from his position within the Alliance, and for all intents and purposes, disappeared from observable society. During this time he attempted as best he could to keep track of Cerberus' activities, although the secretive monolith had turns its eyes on him, and the web was descending by the time the Andromeda Initiative extended an invitation to him. While he may have been difficult to find for a civilian, Gazali's file, as with all N7 operatives, past and present, were prominently on the desk of Alec Ryder when considering recruits for the Initiative. It was an easy decision for Gazali, despite feats that the program itself would have been infiltrated by Cerberus, he much preferred his chances against the relatively few operatives that could be hidden among the crew of the Arks and Nexus, then a galaxy wide network.

Personality:

Gazali is something of a complex character, openly care-free, if serious when the moment arises, the exterior of a bold and brash South African is as much a ruse to hide a man that has become increasingly paranoid in recent years, having deliberately avoided creating meaningful relationships over 'recent' (centuries ago) years due to his fears of reprisal from Cerberus. Having long dealt in the backstabbing realm of politics and crime, this is a streak that has been building for some time. No amount of wit and bluster can prevent the mind from naturally drifting in that direction.

For the longest time, Gazali has lived and breathed in a world of technology, and the code which underpins it. He can tinker and tap away for hours, whether directly on machinery, or tracing through complex net and computer coding. While he has been on the frontline of combat for almost as many years, his true joy, and where he really excels, is in this theoretical world of technological thinking.

Reason for being awoken from Cryo (Specific jobs, skills, and Initiative Application):

As a previous member of the N7 program, Gazali is in the elite of his field, both in terms of martial ability, and his engineering (both soft and hardware) expertise. While there may have been greater minds to unlock first, in the macro sense, with the first colonies springing up, he is a natural early choice for boots-on-the-ground. He craves setting his mind to challenges, and its is only secretly that his eyes are forever checking back over his shoulder for the oncoming knife.

Equipment:

M-5 Phalanx Heavy Pistol

HMWSG Advance Line Shotgun

Onyx Pattern Medium Armour

HMOT Advance Line Omni-Tool

Powers:

Assault Turret
Energy Drain
Flamethrower
Invasion
Incinerate
Overload

Font Colour:

Mass Effect Andromeda: Frontier

I'll try and get a CS written up in time, just saw this and looks like a lot of fun.

Haven't played Mass Effect (RP wise) in an aaaaage.