It’s none of my business what people say of me and think of me. I am what I am and I do what I do. I expect nothing and accept everything. And it makes life so much easier.
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“There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.” - Mark Twain
@Ezekiel, would you be okay with Nicolaus being one of the "contributing artists" that helped to add some of the artifacts, paintings, sculptures, etc to the Sunset club? His background is tattoo art primarily, but he's a collector of rare art and artifacts as well so perhaps he sold some decor to Henry at one time (?)
And speaking of tatts, @Ruby, would Carolina have had any dealings with a Ventrue who shared similar interests?
Name: Nicolaus Strøm Apparent Age: Thirty-Six Actual Age: In the upper three-hundreds if memory serves…
Species: Vampire of clan Ventrue | 7th Generation (reduced by one through diablerie of a Black Hand (Sabbat) Elder)
Clan Feeding Restriction: Young, female Romani of Eastern European descent Storytelling Note: Among many Ventrue, it was considered a bad omen to associate with the gypsy people, which Nicolaus keeps hidden as best he can.
Appearance: A man of above-average height, Nico stands at six-foot-one, lean build, short ash-gray hair and beard, and a series of articulate tattoos of mythos and symbolic eastern European imagery covering most of his upper body. He carries himself with confidence, tall and proud, a friendly smile to friend and stranger, and a wardrobe designed to accentuate a no nonsense man of integrity and strength of will.
Personality: Pure alpha, dominant, even-tempered, mentally tough, and competitive, Nicolaus gleans with a genuine confidence that very few seem to have in this current age, especially among the younger Kindred. Whereas his demeanor may come off as arrogant, it couldn't be further from the truth. His rough exterior is balanced by his charismatic approach to others and generally friendly disposition. He considers his lean body, decorated with countless tattoos of his Germanic (and to an extent, Viking even) ancestry, a symbolic “canvas” to his many exploits in both life and unlife. As a long-time visual artist, he is quite meticulous in execution, seeking perfection in everything but rarely achieving it according to his own standards. Occasionally he buries himself into work for hours, not wanting to be disturbed or distracted during that time. And a quirk, some would consider “bad form” for a Ventrue (let alone a vampire in general), is that Nicolaus holds onto certain humanistic qualities, such as having food set out during meal times but not actually eating, smoking cigars, or simply leaving a pair of glasses in his shirt pocket. Many of his peers consider it a bad reflection on him, but he couldn't care less what they thought...
Prague | Blackriver Citadel | circa 1785
“You've been found guilty of treason against your Sabbat brethren, sharing secrets that jeopardize the interests and security of this Sect, and conspiring with the Camarilla!” The thin, pale, dark-haired Lasombra read from an unfurled scroll, eying the caged vampire across from him with much gile and suspicion. “In turn, you -and any confederates found- are hereby subject to summary judgement by way of a thousand blade cuts and incineration until Final Death has destroyed your existence.” A wry grin formed across the creature’s dried lips. “You will therefore be stricken from the manuscripts, never to be remembered again…”
“Remembered for what exactly?”
The Lasombra tilted his head slightly as his face contorted into the epitome of anger and disgust. “You Ventrue lackeys are all the same, stubborn to the last, and yet you insult my intelligence by assuming I am not aware of the prestige, the dignitas that you’ve managed to acquire for the past one hundred years as a member of the Sabbat?”
He stepped closer to the thick steel bars of the small cell holding the prisoner.
“And if it wasn't for your Sire advocating on your behalf, the Black Hand would have had considerably less tolerance for your continued insolence. In fact, many of us within the Circle are convinced she is just as guilty as her half-wit childe.”
“Kivaria has no part in this I assure you. Keep her out of your little witch hunt.”
“Perhaps.” He paused, steepling his hands. “Regardless, your betrayal has ended here, and will prove fruitless as we have countermeasures in place to ensure our secrets are kept well hidden from the outside clans.” The Lasombra smirked, his yellowed teeth peeking through the small slit between his lips. “You know nothing Nicolaus, and you will die a most horrible death with nothing.”
The prisoner stood for a moment as though he were contemplating the words of his accuser. “You may be right, but I am aware of one important fact...”
The Lasombra arched a single eyebrow. “Humor me Ventrue.”
“That you, and you alone, were responsible for the rape, sodomy, decapitation, and burning of the only woman I ever loved. And rather than owning up to such an ’accomplishment’ against a defenseless mortal young lady, you pinned it on my Sire, causing decades of tension and mistrust in the wave of your deceit.”
The Lasombra cackled in a most horrific manner at the man's words. “So this was the catalyst of your treason? A mortal woman? Oh Nicolaus...you are a weaker fool than I thought- ”
“No!” He interrupted, leaning closer to the cage bars as he stared deeply into the darkened eyes of the Sabbat Inquisitor. “You, my friend, are a disgrace to your kind and an insult to all those who follow your skewed perceptions. You are a sack of shit unworthy of the unlife Caine has granted.”
The Inquistor snorted as he took a half-step closer to the cage, whispering to the condemned man only inches from him. “You will die in the most painful way imaginable, Nicolaus Strøm. Your body will be divided and sent to the four corners of the world as a warning to all who would even consider betraying the Sabbat. You will-”
The Lasombra’s vile speech was suddenly cut short by a long silent dagger jabbed under his chin, and forced up through his skull, penetrating the gray matter within and causing the low guttural sound of blood and bile as it forced it’s way through his severed vocals. His expression, once full of smugness, had transformed into petrified fear, as streams of blood ran down the assailant's weapon hand, and also down his target’s ceremonial black cloak.
“I will live...” Nicolaus hissed through clenched teeth as he twisted the steel dagger, causing the low squishing and popping sounds of cartilage and brain tissue. “And there will be one less of you fucking Black Hand bastards in this forsaken world.” He pulled the dagger quickly from the vampire’s bloodied head, and immediately pierced his heart, which caused the Lasombra to instantly go rigid as the very source of the creature’s unlife was struck the final debilitating blow. And with the dagger in place, Nicolaus grabbed the keys to free himself from the cell, allowing the stiff body to fall hard against the stone floor, before kneeling down next to the dying Black Hand Elder.
“And by the way...” He said, pushing the vampire’s head to one side, exposing his long, veiny neck. “Kivaria gives her regards.” And with that, the Ventrue sank his fangs deep, draining every last bit of the Lasombra’s vitae, his essence, his soul, and with it a renewal of strength surged through Nicolaus as the stroke of Final Death took the withered and rotting corpse of the Sabbat.
Countless decades ticked away on the great clock of immortality, as time was trivial to one who lived forever. Nicolaus was on the run, embedding himself into the Underground realms of Europe, Asia, and eventually, the Americas, building up what he had lost when he severed his ties to the Black Hand of the Sabbat, and much of the Kindred world for that matter. For over two centuries he kept hidden among the mortals, gaining vital contacts, amassing wealth from various business deals, investments, and black market transactions. His backgrounds, which included sword master as well as artist collector and enthusiast, allowed him access into the upper echelons of society, as both a sought after dueling instructor and mentor, as well as dealer of rare artistic relics. However, as with any influential individual with a network spanning multiple continents, the shadow that once covered him was slowly fading away as the light of truth and Kindred interests crept back into his life. Among the handful of Camarilla clans who had dealings with him, his Ventrue brethren had the most interest (and gain) from his influence, and as trust developed over many decades, his acceptance into their Sect had become a natural occurrence. The Elder Ventrue of Los Angeles invited him to join their ranks, hoping his vast network would allow their clan to achieve greatness and stability in an otherwise Anarch-driven society.
Nicolaus knew, however, that the exploits of his life leading up to present would come full circle, and that two events were inevitable: His sire would resurface and come for him as either friend or otherwise, and the Sabbat would track him down to exact their own twisted brand of judgement…
btw @Ezekiel I still need to add the Venture's inherent "blood type restriction" in case you happen to question that, but it'll prob surface in my intro post once the CS is approved.
@Ezekiel, are Lasombra (Sabbat) characters also allowed, or would that be too conflicting for this story?
Edit: Also, is there a limit to the clans we can use, core vs the sub-clans (i.e. Gangrel vs Ravnos). My knowledge is is based off V:TM 1st/2nd edition rules/books but figured I'd ask.
[center][i]“There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.”[/i]
- Mark Twain[/center]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-i">“There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.”</span><br>- Mark Twain</div></div>
Fuzzybootz,
Hari,
Iracebeth,
Jumbus
