Raptorman

Starfall | Below A Thousand Shadows

I sent you a pm question.

Starfall | Below A Thousand Shadows

I sent you a pm with the information

Starfall | Below A Thousand Shadows

I have interest. My interest is largely based on using a character from a race that I created, would such be possible?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

The next morning a woman who caught the eyes of almost everyone who saw her made her way up to the apartment above the still under construction club. Her long silver blonde hair hung down freely and her slim, athletic, and well defined figure was clad in a jacket and long pants in accordance with the weather even though she really had no need of a jacket to ward off the cold. She wore a pair of plain sunglasses even though it wasn't all that bright out, sunglasses that helped keep people from noticing that the irises of her eyes were a bright orange rather than more normal human colors.

She hadn't expected to have to deal with humans for such a long period of time. The plan had been to slay Macros and put an end to the man's evil forever. But her plan had not come to fruition. She had been defeated by the intervention of some anomaly who possessed traits she had never witnessed before. And since she had taken refuge among the humans she had been forced to delay things further. Alsia had been surprised by the kindness of the human Eric who had attempted to help her though she had found it irritating when she had to delay her healing to appear as if she too was human. Otherwise she could have been ready to launch her next strike the next day instead of waiting weeks to heal at human speed.

During the time she had spent recovering the human seemed to have developed some fondness for her, attempting to enter into a relationship. The visisth had come to the conclusion that such would provide suitable cover and would ensure she did not have to find a new place to hole up while planning for the strikes against Macros. It wasn't at all due to any mutual attraction. Or so she insisted to herself even though in truth it had played a part.

The fact that she wasn't spending this day looking into Macros, building her database on his exact routine and defenses stemmed from the fact that she had accepted the offer. Eric had not returned from his 'house sitting' for several days and while Alsia had not been particularly bothered by his absence she knew that the human response would be concern. And so she was here to do what she believed a human girl in the same situation would. She raised a hand to knock on the door and continued knocked until it eventually opened.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

“NOT YOUR GOD!” Came the bellowed response from within the shadows as they swept forward in another wave and the being within them moved like lightning itself.

Meanwhile the woman’s right hand moved and the white fire lashed out to consume the debris that were pinning her down.

As the shadows struck the hero the man braced himself and attempted to use his radar sense, punching with his own fist to strike away one of the massive reaching hands as he launched himself up from the ground to deliver a punch to the creature’s chest. And he felt a burning heat and slime seemingly from the creature’s metal hard skin on the hand where he had struck it. Then another hand struck from the side, leaving deep gouges in his right side and knocking him back with enough force that he would have crashed against the distant wall had another hand in the darkness not struck then from above.

The impact sent him crashing down again to smash against the floor hard enough that the concrete shattered and left an indent, but also made the already wounded man cry out in pain once more. His radar sense temporarily disabled the hero struggled to his feet in time to take another blow as something large and clawed but shaped differently from the hands struck him and sent him crashing down again with the weight of a giant over him, crushing him down into the ground again.

As the (foot?) pressed down on him one of the hands reached down, wrapping long fingers around his arms again, this time the claws/nails at the end of them sinking into the skin and leaving their own wounds as another hand did the same to his legs. As he was lifted he managed to engage the radar sense again through the pain and the vague details showed a mouth opening wide just before it snapped shut, crunching down on his left leg.

Surprisingly there was no snapping of the bones only the burning pain as serrated teeth sliced deep into the muscles there. With great effort the hero tore his leg free though now blood ran more freely from it to kick at the being’s face. But this effort earned only laughter as the hero found himself free of the darkness again, his arms and legs held by what seemed to be solid masses of shadow while he found himself staring into the mask of the woman he had dropped the roof on earlier.

“I LIKE THIS ONE.” The terrible voice of Nightmare proclaimed. “SOUL FIRE, TURN HIM.” The woman nodded and her left hand rose, black fire blooming around it as the streamers at her back flared out again. “He was ours first.” The woman whispered in her distorted voice as she stretched her flaming left hand out towards Icon.

As she did so he summoned a burst of energy and the optic beams met the fire. But they could not hold it back and his strength faltered as the dark fire rushed forward with her hand to press against him. And with it came agony of a different kind then the pain the wracked his body. This pain was in the soul, a malaise that ripped into him on a spiritual level, tearing at his will and leaving darkness like a poison within him.

But the painful process had only just begun when a crack rang out and the dark fire faltered as the woman sagged forward with a hole in the side of her head. Before he knew what had happened he was flung aside to smash against the wall of the room as the darkness engulfed the woman and people in STRIKE assault armor stormed the building.

The darkness charged forward to meet them, heading straight for a man holding a very long gun. The others were brushed aside, and while rays of light from other weapons made the darkness alter course a long tendril lashed out to grip the man and yank him up. Then from within the swirling mass came a flickering of stream white fire that lashed out to strike the man and he vanished.

As the man vanished the fire grew stronger, lashing out as scything whips of flame that left nothing in their wake, no sign that the men had ever been there. Save for one that the darkness claimed engulfing him as the screams sounded and then cut off in a pained gurgle.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Standing in the center of the room, surrounded by carnage and the ruins of the bodies of hundreds who had already been torn limb from limb in a massive slaughter the woman in gold and black seemed completely unperturbed as she turned in Icon’s direction. She bent down slightly and curtsied as he came into view, her face hidden behind the black of the mask and the golden veil.

“Am I not the one you seek?” The woman took a step towards him, stepping over a bloody torso that had nothing attached to it any longer. Her voice sounded almost normal, though there was a hint of an accent to it. “Who is to say I am not Nightmare?” And as she spoke her voice changed, becoming distorted and heavier. The two streamers that emerged from her back rose and twisted around themselves and for the briefest moment it was as if there was a semblance of wings in their place, but it must have just been a trick of the light on the shimmering streams for it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Another step and this time the skull of a dead man broke beneath her foot. Her black hair fanned out behind her body. “Who says I did not kill all these men?” Her voice had become more distorted, and twisted.

Then from behind Icon came another voice in answer to her own, a voice that Icon would recognize if he had been shown the coverage. “I SAY SO!” The voice thundered as a tide of darkness swept over Icon and he would suddenly find himself completely blind. In that same instant the superhero was struck hard from behind by what seemed to be a massive and misshapen hand with far too many fingers and perhaps claws or long nails. In his weakened state the claws/nails cut through his skin, and the impact cast the hero forward.

For a moment he cleared the darkness flying straight for the gold and black clad woman, who jumped up into the air and as the streamers on her back flared out again seemed to hover briefly before spinning and delivering a graceful kick straight to his face with the force that snapped his nose to send the hero back into the darkness that reached out to receive him. And as the darkness took him again a hand wrapped around his legs, a hand wrapped around his arms, and another (hand?) wrapped around his waist, all of them clenching tightly with a grip that he could not break.

They lifted him up in the darkness as the smell of sulfur and the hot breath washed over him. Then the voice thundered from inches away and hot spittle that burned like acid splattered over Icon’s face, actually melting away the skin where it landed. “I AM NIGHTMARE!” Then the hero felt a terrible pulling sensation as the (hands?) tightened and began to pull as if trying to rip him apart. At first it was merely painful but then another (hand?) gripped both his arms and legs and pulled again harder. Still there was only pain, far more wrenching pain but no ripping apart.

The (hand?) at his waist moved down and another joined the ones at his arms but still the hero’s body did not rip apart as the being seemed to be trying very hard to do. Finally the hero found himself lifted up higher and then he was twisted as the (hands?) rotated. There was a series of sickening cracks as bones shattered and skin ripped. And then the (hands?) flicked forwards and released, sending him flying forward.

And as his body was sent out of the darkness towards the woman she raised her right hand and white fire billowed forth in a consuming wave to strike him full on.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

A man sat in the gathering gloom as dusk began to sweep over the city of Lost Haven. The café had lights on and in truth it really wasn’t gloomy in appearance, there were twining ropes of light that seemed to have been intended to resemble vines and even though it was chilly there were a few other patrons of the café nursing drinks or eating a meal at the outdoor tables.

The man held a paper up in front of his face as steam wafted up from a cup of coffee that was set in front of him. The outside of the paper displayed a headline that read “Nightmare Killer To Strike Again?” and the man had a slight smile on his face as he perused the paper. The man wore a beaten up coat that had clearly seen better days, and his face while of uncertain age possessed a certain weathered look that spoke of experience. Dark blue eyes, so deep as to be almost black were set beneath heavy brows and set in a face that was ruddy and looked like he had a few too many drinks. His hands were scarred and weathered as well, seemingly those of a man who had spent years using them.

As the man’s focus was on the paper it appeared that the approach of another had been unnoticed until that person slipped into the seat opposite at the table.

“A penny for your thoughts?” The newcomer asked with a feminine voice laced with an English accent.

“I suspect the paper’s claims of the three day pattern are right.” The man said and lowered the paper down to reveal who it was that had joined him at the table. A woman sat there now, and the first thoughts on who have upon seeing her face was likely one of awe at beauty and then a moment later noticing how the two sides didn’t quite match. Raven black hair framed a face that could have been the face of a doll; no blemishes adorned the perfect milk-white skin, and there were no apparent flaws in the structure. But the left half of her face aside from her eye seemed to be frozen in a bemused expression, and where her right eye was a brilliant gold, her left was dark, almost black in color. Unlike the man her coat was clearly of fine make, expensive and quite likely genuine leather. “And that it has been too long old friend.” The man finished and took the woman’s left hand with one of his own. “How long has it been now?

“Far too long.” Was the answer as the woman half smiled it was the most that she could really do with only half her face able to move. “I do think you could have been more discrete. You could always have sent a card.” And at that comment both the man and the woman with the half frozen face laughed.

The man let go of her hand and raised the coffee cup, sipping at the warm liquid as a waiter came over. “Just water.” The woman preempted the query and the waiter backed away with a nod. “So what do I call you this time?”

“Jack.” He replied simply as he put the coffee back down on the table.

“A fine choice and fitting too. But perhaps a bit tired? Or was it the name?”

“The name.” came as his reply before he asked his own question. “And you?”

“Helen.”

And as she said the name the man laughed long and loud, loudly enough to turn a few heads in his direction for the briefest moment. “And you said mine was tired. Do you plan to launch a thousand ships again?”

“You know it was only 867, and that only half of them were really seaworthy.” She pointed out in return but then laughed herself.

“I have missed you.” Was the man’s reply and there was a genuine smile on his face, an expression that seemed decidedly out of place on the weathered and naturally gloomy seeming face.

“We did keep missing each other.” Helen replied with an unhappy expression of her own. “Just bad luck. We were due for this. Let’s make this one last.” She finished and then as if she had forgotten started up again. “By the way a mutual friend should be here in time for the next set. And he’s rather miffed, apparently some fool villain took his go to name.”

“It will do him good to be creative for once.”

“Perhaps it will. I picked one out. How does Soulfire sound?” The woman asked, with the half of her face that could smile shaped into one.
“It sounds grand. And tonight shall be your night.” And at that point the waiter returned with the woman’s water.
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And in the darkness a monster still prowled. STRIKE’s efforts continued to have been in vain and the efforts of more visible agencies had also had very little success. Even the fact that the brutal murderer had struck three times in a pattern had not been enough to make the city stop its nightlife. As a result despite the increased police presence and the fact that STRIKE patrols, as well as the occasional hero were out in force in the city there were still places that were not covered and it was one such place that was about to feel the wrath of the monster in the night.

The rave was going strong in the night, loud music blaring and several hundred people packed tightly into a warehouse that could barely hold them. No one there was worried; the attacks had all taken place in small group settings, a home, a car in a dark street, a woman who walked down the wrong dark alley, surely such a large group was safe. Of course they were to be proven incorrect in that assumption. The first sign that something was wrong came when a scream sounded outside of the building, but with the music so loud and blaring, and with the people inside making so much noise themselves the scream of the bouncer went completely unnoticed.

Then the doorway was broken and a man was sent flying through it, or at least the top half of a man was sent flying inwards through it. Behind the man’s corpse came a visible and creeping darkness that crept inwards slowly, herding people away from the one unlocked entrance.

Albert Johnson admitted that he had panicked when the bouncer’s body had suddenly been thrown into the middle of the crowd and the darkness had erupted from the doorway to start to pour into the room. He wasn’t certain but his guess was that it was something to do with this Nightmare and what he had heard was completely terrifying. Fortunately he thought quickly on his feet. There would be a way to escape, sure the other doors were locked but the guard would have had the keys and there was a chance he would still have them on his body.

Albert didn’t really think there was any other option, especially as he watched a man who tried to run through the shadows be thrown back out in little pieces like so much confetti. And so shoving his way through hysterical and screaming people who were scrambling towards the locked doors he attempted to make his way to the half of the man. He had reached it and was thanking a god who he rarely believed in for his luck as the darkness continued to spread when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m afraid you can’t let them all out.” The voice was slightly accented and sounded like the speaker was enjoying herself in the terror of the situation. Albert turned around and looked at the person who was speaking. The woman was wearing a costume of some kind, a large pointed cone of a hat, half gold and half black was set atop her head and from the sides came a neck guard of fabric that flowed downward, the left half of her face was covered by a black mask of metal and the right half was covered by a golden veil. Two long streamers, one gold from her right side and one black from her left side hung down her back, the chest of the costume seemed to be armored with thin scales of metal under a layer of fabric that still managed to cling tightly to a generous figure. Her lower body was covered by what seemed to be a long skirt like garment that went down past her knees made of the same sort of armored fabric as the top part of the costume. Both of her hands were left free.

He cast a worried glance as the shadows that were drawing closer and the terrible gurgling screams continued to sound every time they shadows closed around another of the people in the crowd who couldn’t push far enough away. That glance was the last he got as a hand gently brushed against his face and then he burst into flames. “Nothing personal.” The woman said as she laughed and fire lashed out around her in a storm, white fire that seemed to cause those struck by it to simply flicker out of existence.

And from the shadows came an answering laugh, deep and inhuman as the darkness poured forwards, no longer slowly creeping but sweeping through the warehouse like a flood of death.

Vampire: The Masquerade. Dance of the Damned

Due to real life issues, such as illness, and trying to find a job for the summer I have been inactive here. I hope to change that in the next few days. I know this happens way too often with me. I am not just going to disappear this time. I will post!

Vampire: The Masquerade. Dance of the Damned Character Sheets

Faction Name: The Palm Springs Crew

Allegiance: Independent

Location: Palm Springs

General Information: The Palm Springs Crew is a faction that has been around for a considerable length of time and it is a faction that has been forced to hide its nature in almost all interactions. As one of the few if not the only old Tzimisce domain in the new world the vampires who run the town have long been incredibly secretive and cautious. Most dealings with outsiders are done through ghoul emissaries or through the member of the crew known as the Emissary who is of unknown bloodline. The leaders of the crew were never seen by outsiders for nearly 60 years since they first took up dominion over the small resort town.

However in the last two years things have changed slightly. During the chaos that followed the assassination of many anarch and camarilla leaders several groups attempted to seize the town, viewing it as a sign of weakness that the vampires in charge had hidden behind ghouls. This belief was mistaken and the incursions were smashed but the force and means used to suppress the incursions have led to the rumor mills churning and some of the veil of secrecy was damaged.

Character Sheets:

Chag Ha Ander

Name: Chag Ha Ander (The Pale Man)

Appearance:


Generation: 6th

Clan: Old Tzimisce

Disciplines: Animalism, Auspex, Vicissitude

Personality: Chag Ha Ander is in some ways the typical Tzimisce, describing him as a sadist will only make him laugh and then proceed to show you just how inferior your understanding of true sadism is. He has sampled of the endless buffet of screams and agony, has devised countless ways to torture those who he judges to be his enemies and in that way is similar to what you might well expect. He is also old fashioned and a proud being still claiming for himself the title of Voivode that he once held in his heyday before his holdings in Eastern Europe fell. His identity as one of the old Fiends is one of the strongest elements that hold the old vampire’s sense of self together and as such things like the hospitality rituals are held in the highest regard.

However he does differ from many of his ilk as he is not so frozen into a single mindset that he cannot adjust at least to some extent. While most of his kind would be unable to conceive of the possibility of relocation he has done so several times. His mind is still somewhat fluid and he has been able to learn things and adjust to the modern era better than most of his kind. That is not to say that he accepts the modern era as that is far from the truth, his hatred for modernity and the restrictions that it puts on him burns hot and it is only self-preservation that keeps him from acting on the old desires.

Biography: Chag Ha Ander like most of the Tzimisce views what occurred in the years of his life prior to his embrace as rather insignificant, however there is still some pride to be had in the memories of the feats that allowed him to be chosen for immortality. In the 1200s the Mongol hordes swept into Eastern Europe bringing death and destruction on their drive to conquer. Chag Ha Ander was a man of power in the army, a commander of men and he was detached from the main forces to lead a raid into a portion of what is now known as Hungary.

It was ill fate for the invasion force, but ultimately good fortune for Chag Ha Ander when his men stumbled across the residence of what reports said was the lord of the region. With confidence born of his years of command he ordered the attack and fate was set in motion. He led the assault personally and was shocked when his men encountered terrifying creatures of twisted flesh and bone, monsters that seemed to have been shaped from human into something else entirely.

His forces were outmatched but he continued to fight, demonstrating ruthlessness and strategy learned in his years of life. He even sacrificed groups of his own men to gain temporary advantages. It even appeared that his strategies were working until the lord of the castle unleashed something more terrifying. A massive beast that simply shrugged off anything that came for it and that destroyed his men utterly. He prepared to meet death himself when the creature was stopped.

Instead the lord of the land impressed with the ruthlessness and battlefield skill of the man descended himself and after defeating Chag Ha Ander with the greatest of ease, embraced him to begin his long period of unlife. For many years he existed as a pawn of his sire, an ancient Tzimisce methuselah who sought to protect himself through the creation of loyal vassals who would surround his own holdings to serve as shields. Eventually with the bond established and confidence that his new servant would not betray him Chag Ha Ander’s sire granted him land.

He set up his own domain there and for a time things went according to plan. But things would change when the anarch revolt swept into the lands of the Tzimisce. His sire’s plan to surround himself with loyal vassals as a line of defense was not sufficient. First the anarchs had come for Chag Ha Ander and he fought them and lost. He was believed slain, suffering a wound that would have killed most and left for dead in the wreckage of his lands.

Then the anarchs went after his sire and successfully slew the ancient vampire in a great battle. But such was a hollow victory for when the old one died his vozhd was freed from all control and the beast rampaged through the anarch ranks, destroying most of the group before being slain itself.

Ultimately Chag Ha Ander awoke and free of the bond for the first time moved into the holdings that his sire had previously occupied and during the chaos that was the aftermath of the anarch revolt managed to establish himself and gain the recognition of the other remaining old Tzimisce who had weathered the storm. It was soon after he claimed his sire’s former territory that he embraced his first childe and in time he would choose others.

His rule over the land would endure for another four hundred years before the changing times brought him down along with many of the others who had managed to weather the earlier storms. It is a subject that is seldom discussed and that he does not mention save in moment of rage how his fall ultimately came at the hands of the pathetic kine who had long been his food and nothing more. Times had changed and industry had flourished, the veil of fear and superstition that had long kept his kind enthroned began to fade away.

Peasant revolts began, and while the first several were put down with bloody ease eventually there was one that forced him to retreat into his own fortress. Trusting in the strength of his walls and planning to destroy the revolting peasants when the next night fell he and his childer slumbered. But the rule of fear was not perfect and a servant that he believed firmly cowed betrayed him, opening a gate to allow the besiegers access. He was roused by the conflict and in an act of supreme will forcibly flesh crafted one of his childe into his likeness before dragging his consort along with him in a flight to the very bowels of his fortress.

There they escaped the rampage of the rebels but when night had fallen and they emerged the castle was in ruins and his forces had been mostly destroyed. With the rebels still at large and his own forces shattered there did not appear to be a good solution. The other Voivodes would not help and he was too proud to ask for their help. To move appeared to be the only option and as hated as it was this seemed to offer the best chance of survival.

Europe was hostile, with many ancients entrenched in various places and so he turned his eyes to the new world. With the last few servants and what wealth remained to him, he arranged passage to the Americas and attempted to establish a new domain for himself there. The first attempt was moderately successful at first as he managed to purchase a sizeable expanse of land in Texas and established himself there. While it was not so fine as his old land in Europe the aristocratic society of the pre civil war south was somewhat tolerable and the slave system provided a ready source of food as well as easy targets for his appetites. It was here that he embraced another of his few surviving childer, one of the overseers in his plantations attracted his attention through the clever cruelty and torture of various forms that the man inflicted upon the slaves.

Unfortunately for Chag Ha Ander his new domain would prove short lived as the Civil War broke out a mere 20 years after his arrival and the system that had proved so accommodating to his needs was obliterated. He would linger on in the south for almost another hundred years before it had changed to the point that very little of what had attracted him to the region still remained.

In the 1950s, following the outbreak of violence and the overthrowing of the Camarilla rulership of Los Angeles he relocated a final time to the town of Palm Springs, wiping out the previous anarch gang that had claimed the town and establishing it as his own domain. Since then he has ruled over the town with an iron if by necessity subtle fist.

In the chaos of the conflict that erupted two years prior Chag Ha Ander and his childer attempted to avoid becoming involved though several incidents forced the ancient vampire to take action himself to destroy those who sought to press into his territory. The very decisive way in which the incursions were smashed has reinforced the impression that the Palm Springs vampires were not easy pickings but has also made a delicate situation more volatile. While his appearances were brief some wonder at the power of this leader and question why so powerful a being leads what is supposedly an independent anarch splinter group. And there are rumors of things unleashed in those encounters that sound like the stuff of old stories from lands half a world away.

His Childer

Name: Svetlana Ference

Generation: 7th

Appearance:


Clan: Old Tzimisce

Disciplines: Animalism, Auspex, Vicissitude

Personality: Svetlana was embraced almost 600 years ago and for 600 years Chag Ha Ander has had the opportunity to mold her mind and body, sculpting her like clay to suite his own desires. Her emotions towards him are those of extreme devotion and she simply cannot conceive of acting against him, even subtly. To others on the other hand she is casually cruel and manipulative specializing in twisting the feelings of others to suit her own desires and the desires of her Sire which she equates or even holds superior to her own goals. She is a creature who has been crafted by her master rather than her own will and is twisted to the point that she cannot truly see the difference between the two anymore. Despite this much of her original personality still remains intact as Chag Ha Ander approved of it, her grace and naturally refined nature have been kept and tempered with cruelty and spite.

Biography: A child of nobility in one of the many families of human nobles who served beneath the Tzimisce at the height of their dark power Svetlana was expected to grow up and be married off to secure political ties to another family. It was something of a fluke that the girl caught the eye of the family's overlord instead and his demands were granted without hesitation, the family knowing well the power of the ire of one of the elder fiends. Chag Ha Ander tested her, first to see if she was worthy of the embrace, which she was found to be and then with the test of his own devising to ensure that all his childer would possess his own gift for survival.

Her first experience after embrace was one that would have killed most kindred and kine alike as the ancient vampire thrust the blade of a sword through her head and then removed it, critically damaging her brain. When it became apparent that she unlike his previous attempts was not expiring her sire went to work and began the process of shaping her into what he desired her to be. She next awakened changed and with a devotion to her sire that pushed all other desires to the sidelines. For nearly 600 years she has served him, playing the role that he designed and shaped her for.

Name: Randall Bishop

Generation: 7th

Appearance:



Clan: Old Tzimisce

Disciplines: Vicissitude, Auspex, Dominate

Personality: A vain, cruel, and innovative man in life Randall Bishop has retained these qualities in his undeath. The man is cruel, fond of inflicting tortures upon the mortals merely for the sake of his twisted pleasures, he takes special pleasure in torturing people of particular ethnicity and his tendencies in that direction survived the transfer from mortal to vampire. His creative genius for cruelty however appears to be at the cost of his overall intellect as while the man is quite capable he seems to lack independence in many areas. While this makes him ideal in some respects as he is easy to keep in line by virtue of the blood bond and he would never go against his sire the fact that his genius is so limited makes him an irritation at times.

Biography: Randall Bishop was an overseer of slaves, a man known for his brutality and cruelty to the point where he had actually been fired for being overly brutal several times by former employers. He could not understand why the people he worked for continued to reprimand him for actions that were wholly justified and reasonable and this led to his repeated firings. He was surprised when a man who was starting up a new plantation contacted him and said he was the perfect choice to run roughshod over the slave population there, surprised but pleased.

With his job prospects seeming poor he accepted and for a few years looked the other way at the strange ways of the master, the fact that the man and his 'wife' never seemed to be around during the day, or how they would summon slaves to the mansion who would never leave again, simply doing his job and enjoying the freedom allowed to him. After those few years though he was called before Chag Ha Ander and forcibly embraced. He became more than human and things changed. His mind was molded by the will of his new sire and his loyalty was cemented through the application of a blood bond to the point where he cannot even think about betraying the master.

He proved difficult to reconcile after the civil war ended in a defeat for the south and with the approval of Chag Ha Ander, who also wished for the servile population of free meals to be kept in their place he was involved in certain evening activities designed with that express purpose of spreading fear to keep the ex-slaves in what he considered the proper mindset. Since the move to Palm Springs the former overseer has proven to still be useful, and his genius for torture has continued to amuse his sire but the man's rage means that the ancient vampire has to keep a tight grip that even he normally does on this particular childe.

Name: Roger Wilson

Generation: 7th

Appearance:


Clan: Old Tzimisce

Disciplines: Vicissitude, Animalism, Auspex

Personality: Roger Wilson is relatively new to his unlife and his psyche has not yet had time to recover from the the process by which he has been molded and then cast as seen appropriate by his sire. He is largely uncertain of his own actions, frequently guided more by the detailed commands given to him by the other more experienced members of Chag Ha Ander's 'family' that by his own insights. Still he was clever in life and his intelligence still exists in death further his knowledge of modern day criminal enterprise has proven useful in combating the kine servants of other influential kindred in the LA region.

Biography:Roger was a man who tried and ultimately was somewhat successful in organized criminal enterprises. Like most Tzimisce his life prior to the embrace is dismissed as rather unimportant though he was chosen specifically for the more modern skill set that he possessed. He would be able to deal with problems in ways that the others had a more difficult time grasping as they were more rooted in the past while his criminal skills were from the present. As he was only embraced approximately 8 years ago there is not much to tell of his story so far.

Vampire: The Masquerade. Dance of the Damned

Will do