Vampires and Ghouls

   
Vampires and Ghouls

Elizabeth Sheridan
The Lady of London, The Right Honorable Alder Elizabeth Sheridan, Marquis of London, Prince and Meister Speaker

Type: Vampire
Covenant: Invictus
Clan: Ventrue
Embrace: 1583
Apparent Age: Late teens



Virtue: Pragmatic
Vice: Deceitful
Long-Term Aspiration: To so arrange Kindred politics in London that she can retire without both the city and the Marquessate going up in flames (literal or figurative)

Background: "You'll be my little birdie now, Ellie." These were the words that greeted Elizabeth Sheridan into her Requiem. Her sire, Walter Burnett, was a petty Scottish Laird and a priest in the Lancea et Sanctum, who, feeling the need for a little beauty in his unlife, Embraced a young artist's model and sometime-prostitute. He chose Ellie because the penniless girl, plucked from the streets where she worked at whatever trade would see her fed for another week, however distasteful, would be easy to control and dominate. Small, green-eyed, and freckled, Ellie was an absolute treat for the eyes.

But Ellie wasn't quite the 'Lady of the Evening' that Burnett was accustomed to. Born in Edinburgh, she came from good family, the daughter of a Highlands crofter who had lost his farm to bad weather and worse debt. Imbued with a fearsome drive to survive, Sheridan did whatever necessary to support herself and her family, and she was ill-inclined to accept the authority of anyone, and most certainly not from the kind of conceited aristocratic dolt who'd driven her family from their homes in fire and blood. Playing the part of the simpering plaything, she took Burnett out into the streets of Edinburgh to look at the sights, called some feral dogs and left them to figure out what to do with carrion that was still moving. Burnett tried to scare them off by firing a pistol into the air, only to find that its plugged barrel made it explode in his hand. The sight of shredded flesh and dripping blood decided the dogs, while Ellie sat back and watched with a gentle smile.

Ellie drifted across the British Isles for a while, but freed of concerns of mortal hunger or time, she wanted to do more than simply survive. She wanted to find others of her type, to learn what she'd become and how to cope with it. But really, more there was the fact that Sheridan had a hunger for society. The painters and poets of London amused her for a time, but it wasn't the same. Mortals could feed many of her hungers, but not all.

She came, in the fullness of years, to Aberdeen, where she tarried for only a few decades. That was her first attempt to re-invent himself as a lady of culture and learning, and it was a laughable one. By the time she realized what she was doing wrong (which was, essentially, everything), her reputation as a poser, buffoon and parvenu was set. Undeterred, she did what few Kindred in Aberdeen would contemplate: she left.

In York, he became Elizabeth Sinclair, and she made a much better job of presenting herself as discerning and educated. (She went back to her soft Scots accent, which helped.) By the time she felt ready to return to London, she had accumulated the equivalent of a college degree. There, she got a position at the Charing Cross Hotel in the 1870s, working as a night maid and, eventually, working her way up to the level of head of housekeeping. By now, the woman who had destroyed her sire in defense of her own freedom was happy to play at subservience — because play was all it was. Acting as the faithful “nice Scots girl” to the wealthy guests was Sheridan's grand joke upon them. She kept their rooms spotless and saw them off to the theater, and while they were dining, she fed on their sons and daughters.

Servility was fun as long as it was an act, which was why Sheridan felt the need to climb the Invictus ladder as remorselessly and rapidly as she eventually did. Kindred today know the Lady of London as the uniter, the moderate, the coalition-builder. That’s because the Kindred who got to know Sheridan the murderous mastermind aren’t around to talk about it. Their childer and colleagues tell stories, but without much credibility — just enough to keep the clans and covenants honest.

By the time of the Second World War, Sheridan was the High Sheriff of London, a position she occupied from deep in the shadows and far behind the scenes. She was involved in some very dark affairs during this period, with dealings on all sides of the Cold War. Rumors of her participation in the Cambridge Five business persist to this day. She was a born puppeteer, saying one thing to the Lancea et Sanctum, something else to the Carthians, and a third thing to her own Invictus, and not a one of them ever earned more than half the truth. Sheridan had a finger in every pie, all the while seeming the quiet, conscientious servant of Augustus Danby, the Lord of London.

When the reign of the Lord of London stumbled in 1966, Sheridan was there to unite the opposition, buffalo the shrinking elite and offer her enemies the mercy of a quick trip out of town. Then she claimed the throne as the vampire whom few really wanted, but everyone was willing to accept. She'd spent decades studying studying the aims and enemies of the city’s influential Kindred in preparation for a moment of weakness in Danby — Sheridan's subtle advantage over him was her willingness to recognize unpopular and lesser-known vampires as influential.

The Lord of London was displaced with a minimum of violence, but everything he had has been broken up among the elders who once supported him, from real estate to ghouls. Danby himself disappeared, but Sheridan presumes he is sleeping somewhere in London, dreaming of a bloody throne and his second chance at praxis. Now, the new Lady of London is concentrating on making her reign look smooth and invulnerable. She knows it can never be those things, but in 200 years, she’s learned how often reality takes its cues from pretense. She seeks a calm and sustainable court, which often translates to a bread-and-circuses approach to her followers. After all, “calm prosperity” isn’t sexy compared to the orgy of bloodshed some would-be Circle Princes espouse or the “total political liberation” promised by the Carthians.

Rubbing awkwardly against Sheridan’s need to keep her Kindred entertained is her genuine love of the city of London. For the lowest common denominator of Kindred joy is the lust for horror of the Beast. Feeding those low urges could keep her in power for a long time, but what shadow would that cast on her city? Sheridan listens to London and, better than any other vampire, understands how little influence her ilk truly have in the long run. With great effort they can, over years, make things a little bit better, if they dare. But they can so easily pull the city toward despair and injustice, even by careless selfishness. She knows she must protect London from her court, but to do so, she needs to control them, and to control them, she must keep them happy.

To keep them happy, she must endanger London.

Further complicating matters is the fact that Sheridan's own nature is ill-suited to the role of Prince. Sheridan was High Sheriff for decades, and as a spymaster and inquisitor she was excellent, but no matter how thoroughly she polishes her persona, Sheridan will never be comfortable as a public figure. The other Kindred of London intimidate her, with their boundless arrogance and bloody prowess, especially those that possess the qualities that she still (still, after two hundred years) fear she lacks. They have poise, grace, dignity, intelligence, education, articulateness... while Sheridan knows that deep down, she's still just an Edinburgh street girl named Ellie.

This isn't to say that Sheridan lacks power. She's a potent vampire in her own right -- the second-oldest active Kindred in London in modern nights -- capable of controlling men's minds and of transforming into cat, falcon, mist, or swarm of flesh-rending bats. The ranks of the truly ancient Kindred have recently been culled by the Black King affair, and Sheridan has been taking action to consolidate her power, though the loss of Alistair Niall has been a severe blow [The Jackal in the Fold]. Though the Circle of the Crone under the leadership of Abonde and the Carthians under Montjoy are largely quiescent forces (though Sheridan has been keeping a very close eye on Cynthia of the Mara), the Lancea et Sanctum under Solomon Birch are a constant danger, and one she may not be able to control much longer. Within the Invictus, Sheridan despises Sophie Penrose for the latter's effortless style, above and beyond any political grudge. Sheridan is keenly aware that she is a weak Prince, and she will do anything to strengthen her own position, however ill-fitting she finds it... because only she can protect London.
Covenant: Invictus
Clan: Ventrue

Mental Attributes: Intelligence 5, Wits 5, Resolve 6
Physical Attributes: Strength 9, Dexterity 6, Stamina 10
Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 4, Composure 4

Mental Skills: Academics 4, Investigation (9-Again) 4, Occult 1, Politics (Psychotic Iconoclasts, AKA Kindred) 4
Physical Skills: Athletics 2, Brawl (Claws x2, Swarm x2) 6, Stealth (9-Again) 6, Survival (Streets) 2
Social Skills: Animal Ken 3, Empathy (Analyze x2) 5, Expression 2, Intimidation 2, Persuasion 2, Socialize 2, Streetwise 1, Subterfuge (9-Again) 5

Merits: Fast Reflexes 3, Herd 4, Indomitable 2, Languages (French, Latin; Native is English) 2, Professional Training (Spy; Investigation, Stealth, Subterfuge) 5, Resources
3+Well-Paid
6, Status (
Pull; Well-Paid
Invictus; Prince) 5, Striking Looks (Elegant) 1
Lair: Kensington Townhouse; Security 5, Warding 4

Willpower: 10
Humanity: 2
Universal Banes: Sunlight, Fire, Aura of Menace, Frenzy, The Feral Curse, The Aloof Curse
Personal Banes: Face of Hunger, Uninvited

Initiative: 18
Defense: 5 (10/10 w/ Celerity & Quicken Sight)
Armor: 2/2 (7/7 w/ Tough Hide & Resilience)
Mental Shield: 2 (Indomitable)
Health: 15
Speed: 15 (90 w/ Celerity)

Blood Potency: 6
Anomaly of the Blood: Through some quirk or atavism of Vitae, Sheridan possesses the Disciplines and the Curses of both Clan Gangrel and Clan Ventrue
Disciplines: Animalism ●●●●●, Auspex ●●, Celerity ●●●●●, Dominate ●●●, Protean ●●●●●, Resilience ●●●●●, Vigor ●●●●●
Predatory Aspects: Feral Senses, Stalker, Tough Hide; Extra Sense, Quadrupedal, Venomous w/ Force of Nature
Beast's Skin: Falcon, Swarm of Bats, Cat, Panther, Wolf
Unnatural Aspects: Horrid Talons; Wings w/ Force of Nature
Devotions: Claws of the Unholy, Force of Nature, Quicken Sight, Vermin Flood
Vitae: 20/6; Herd 4

Attacks...........................Damage.....Dice Pool.....Special
Bat Swarm……………….............0L/A............. 17……….....Ignores Defense; Distracted; Distributable
Horrid Talons…………….............3L/A............. 20……….....AP 2, Venomous (Toxicity 2)

Mary
Miss Mary Mack, Mary Mackenzie

Type: Vampire
Affiliation: Harbingers, Freehold of New Jerusalem, Lancea et Sanctum
Court: Spring
Entitlement: Knight of the Rose
Clan: Daeva
Embrace: 1951
Apparent Age: 17



Virtue: Helpful
Vice: Violent
Long-Term Aspiration: Figure out how to mitigate Frenzy

Background: “Miss Mary Mack, dressed all in black,” goes the children’s rhyme. “She’s got a knife stuck in her back. She cannot breathe, she cannot cry, and so she begs, she begs to die.” There’s a friendlier version, too, one that involves silver buttons and elephants, but Mary Mack the vampire prefers the darker one.

Mary was made a vampire in the early 1950s at the tender age of 17. The man who Embraced her claimed to be a motorist, lost in a vicious snowstorm, and Mary let him into her parents’ house. Within an hour, her parents and brother were dead and she was in the midst of a painful transformation. For a time, Mary tried to remain as true to herself as she could. She didn’t kill her prey and she still attended church (night services, obviously), but it’s been decades, and sometimes she slips up. The first time she killed, she went to her victim’s home to explain to his wife and children what had happened. His wife, terrified of Mary, stabbed her in the back with a pair of scissors, and Mary lost control and killed her. With the scissors still in her back, she begged the children to kill her. They could do nothing but stare in shock.

Mary took the name “Mary Mack” in a perverse homage to her first killings, and has hunted the nights ever since. She’s given up trying to die, and now she just tries to pass the time. She likes families and children, and has long since learned to use her youth to her advantage, stalking in boarding schools and other places where older vampires would be hard-pressed to follow her. She tries not to kill, but sometimes accidents do happen.

Mary Mack is basically a vampiric outcast, a nomad with a very rough idea of what vampire society at large is actually like. However, fifty years of surviving on her own have made her a remarkably tough vampire, even as her sanity's weathered down to a nub. She suffers from extreme mood swings, to the point where "Mary the Girl" (chirpy and cheerful), "Mary the Vampire" (depressed and bitter), and "Mary the Monster" (violent and remorseless) may be said to be three different personalities.

Recently, courtesy of Erin Lamothe, Mary's been taken into the Harbingers, with Othello taking a particular interest in her. It is possible that they are sleeping with one another, despite Mary generally being a lesbian (what with Othello being a shape shifter), but as of the moment, no one has been brave enough to inquire.

Affiliation Lancea et Sanctum, Harbingers, Freehold of New Jerusalem
Clan Daeva

Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 3, Resolve 2
Physical Attributes: Strength 9, Dexterity 4, Stamina 5
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 3, Composure 1

Mental Skills: Academics 2, Medicine 1, Occult 1
Physical Skills: Athletics 3, Brawl (Grapple x2)
5+Pledge
6, Larceny 2, Stealth (Blend with the Crowd) 4
Social Skills: Empathy 2, Expression 1, Intimidate 2, Persuasion (Teenagers; Making a Deal +1) 4, Socialize 4, Subterfuge 4

Merits: Allies (Medical)
Freehold
2, Mantle (Spring) 1, Resources
0+Well-Paid
1, Status (
Well-Paid, Well-Fed, Support Group
Harbingers) 2, Status (
Well-Fed, Support Group, Glamorous, Influence (Medical)
Freehold) 2, Status (
Discipline
Lancea et Sanctum) 2, Striking Looks (Sexy Schoolgirl) 1
Combat Merits: Fighting Style (Grappling) 3, Fighting Style (Close Quarters Combat) 2
Haven: Mary lives in the Cat’s Cradle

Willpower: 3
Humanity: 5; +2 Support Group
Universal Banes: Sunlight, Fire, Frenzy, The Wanton Curse, Silver
Personal Banes: Uninvited
Conditions: Madness (Persistent)

Initiative: 11
Defense: 3 (+4/4 w/ Celerity)
Armor: 0 or 1/1 (Resilience)
Mind Shield: 1 (Disciplined)
Health: 10
Speed: 18 (90 w/ Celerity)

Blood Potency: 3
Entitlement Powers: Valiant Heart (Knight of the Rose)
Disciplines: Celerity ●●●●, Majesty ●●, Theban Sorcery ●, Vigor ●●●●●, Resilience ●
Theban Sorcery Rituals:
1st: Vitae Reliquary, Unblemished Chalice
Vitae: 12/3; +3 Starting (Well-Fed 3)
Pledges:

Bloody Harvest
Type: Oath, Courtly Emblem (Autumn)
Tasks:
[Othello] - Ensorcellment (-2)
[Mary]] - Medial Alliance (-2)
Boons:
[Mary] - Ensorcellment (+2), Adroitness: Brawl (+1)
Sanction: Poisoning of the Boon (-3)
Duration: Season (+2)

[Exceptions] The pledge is not broken and the curse is not triggered if a clause is broken or unfulfilled for any of the following reasons:
-Refusal to betray another friend or ally.
-Either party is rendered physically or mentally incapable of fulfilling the pledge, either by external or internal conditions.
-Either party is forced to break the pledge by supernatural means or mind control.
-Either party was unaware their course of action or inaction would violate the pledge.
The Bloody Harvest

Attacks...........................Damage.....Dice Pool.....Special
Grapple…………………………..0B……………..18……….
Takedown (●●): Your character can take an opponent to the ground rapidly. When rolling to initiate a grapple, you may choose to render an opponent prone instead of establishing a grapple. You may also choose to cause bashing damage equal to the successes rolled.
Joint Lock (●●●): Once in a grapple, your character can administer joint locks and other immobilizing tactics. Any attempt to overpower your character causes the other character a point of bashing damage. In addition, any successful overpowering maneuvers your character uses cause 1L damage in addition to their normal effects.
Takedown, Joint Lock
Hard Surfaces…………………0L………………18………..If grappling, bang someone’s head against a hard object to deal lethal, ends Grapple


Sophie Penrose
Slave

Type: Vampire
Covenant: Ordo Dracul (Formerly Invictus)
Clan: Daeva
Bloodline: Kallisti
Embrace: 1986
Apparent Age: Mid-20s



Virtue: Prudent
Vice: Jealous
Long-Term Aspiration: To have a family, and be loved by them

Background: This is a lie.

Sophie Penrose was born in 1978 to Chester and Margaret Penrose, the wealthy and reclusive owners of 10% of the Jones-Klein-Beauchamp, a company that specializes in bleeding-edge pharmaceuticals and designer drugs. Raised in the lap of luxury, Sophie spent most of her youth first in the country estates up in the Midlands, and then in an exclusive Swiss boarding school in the Alps, where she first picked up her love of skiing and alpinism. Something of a wild child, Sophie made minor headlines with drunken debauches in Genevan nightclubs as a teenager, and there was an affair with a young actor that was hushed up. A sex-tape supposedly circulates on the internet. Upon achieving her 21st birthday in 1999, however, broke free from her parents control to become a prominent socialite and minor celebrity in the London set, moving into that half-respectable twilight world of the celebutante. On the one hand, she is regal, majestic, a philanthropist and a regular at the society gatherings of London. At the same time, her penchant for exotic (and erotic) parties has only increased with freedom, and no one doubts that under that icy exterior lies a heart burning with passions.

This is the truth.

Sophie Penrose does not exist. She is an experiment in perceptional manipulation on a truly mind-bending scale. Prior to 1999 and her appearance on the social scene, Sophie Penrose did not exist and had never existed. Chester and Margaret Penrose are fictional entities, and Penrose was never in the Swiss boarding school she was supposedly in. The actor she dated never met her till 1999, and no one ever saw the sex-tape at first not because she was insufficiently famous, but because it didn't exist. But, and this is the very important part, the world believes that these things occurred, because the Golden Room wishes them to believe.

Records can be falsified. Old news stories can be inserted into archives and backdated. Memory is inherently unreliable, and can be altered by means both gentle (leading conversations) and harsh (pharmaceuticals, magic). The vast herd of humanity, confronted with the obvious reality of Sophie Penrose's past and existence, does not question that no one member ever heard of her prior to 1999. Certainly, the specific individual is ignorant, but he or she assumes that this does not hold true for the rest of society.

This is conjecture.

Sophie Penrose was not born to wealth and status, but to its acquisition. For Penrose, objectification is the way of the world. For her parents, she was "Daughter, 1, pretty and bright, symbol of achievement". She was not, strictly speaking, a person. They were kind, in an absent-minded way, but they were absorbed far more in one another and in their ambitions. Sophie was just one more sign that they were successful people, on the way to the highest reaches of the corporate world. Feelings did not come into the equation. "Of course we love you, how can you doubt that?" Was the refrain. And Sophie, in that particular way that children have, internalized the lesson of that saying. There was no doubt that her parents loved her. If there was ever any loss or insufficiency of love, then it was because Sophie was somehow unworthy, and would just have to try harder next time.

The fact was, though, that Sophie was smart, and she was pretty, and she was possessed of seemingly-endless supplies of sheer, bloody-minded stubbornness. But somehow, she was never smart enough or pretty enough to earn the love that her parents would have given her, if only she was worthy. Eventually, Sophie turned abroad for acceptance, but the few who dared date the clever, pretty girl were of the same mold as her parents, interested in her looks (and occasionally her help with homework), but not in her. Sophie went through college, becoming engaged with the most attractive of her boyfriends, and began to reconcile herself to life as a twisted rendition of the perfect daughter and wife, never quite good enough.

But then fate intervened in the form of George Permell, a vampire. For some reason, he appreciated her, enjoyed that edge of barely restrained wrath that Sophie nurtured in herself, enjoyed the elaborate fantasies of revenge and dismemberment that Sophie wrote out in her most private journals, enjoyed her penchant for slicing long gashes on her own arms with a kitchen knife. Sophie was on the crossroads between the death of ambition and a violent, psychotic breakdown. So Permell came to her, seduced her with promises of love and affection, and offered to take her away from it all. She accepted, and he Embraced her.

But then, Permell reverted to type, though when he denied his approval, it was to spur Sophie onward to ever greater things. Sophie could work as though possessed by seven demons when she thought it would get her the affection of her Sire, and Permell knew it. She was the prefect fledgling, eager-to-please and exceedingly competent. Unfortunately for Permell, he had made a slight miscalculation, for when one takes a viper to one's bosom, one should beware, and the same holds for repressed young women with homocidal urges. Finding Kindred society so much less constraining than what she was used to, and with the Beast egging her on, Sophie turned her consistent 'Excellents' in chemistry to good use and fire-bombed her Sire's haven.

Sophie had to flee the city, of course, but she had Permell's money, and a distant contact in London, an eccentric elder named Vincent Moon. The rest, as they say, is history.
Covenant Invictus
Clan Daeva
Bloodline: Kallisti

Mental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 3, Resolve 3
Physical Attributes: Strength 1, Dexterity 4, Stamina 2
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 5, Composure 3

Mental Skills: Academics (+1 to Research) 3, Medicine (Pharmaceuticals, Surgery) 3, Occult 2, Politics 3, Science (Chemistry) 3
Physical Skills: Drive 1, Firearms (Light Autoloader x2) 4, Weaponry 1
Social Skills: Expression (Dominate, Fine Art) 2, Persuasion (Making a Deal)
4+Pledge
5, Socialize
3+Pledge
4, Subterfuge (Deception) 4

Merits: Fast Reflexes 3, Herd 1, Quick-Draw (Light Autoloader) 1, Resources 5, Status (
Scholarly
Ordo Dracul) 1, Striking Looks (Elegant) 1, Taste 1
Lair: Minimalist/Chinoiserie Penthouse Flat; Security 3

Willpower: 6
Humanity: 3
Universal Banes: Sunlight, Fire, Aura of Menace, Frenzy, The Wanton Curse, The Curse of the Golden Apple
Personal Banes: Hated by Beasts
Conditions: Madness (Persistent)

Initiative: 14
Defense: 4 (8/4 w/ Celerity)
Armor: 1/2B (Bulletproof Clothing)
Health: 7
Speed: 10 (50 w/ Celerity)

Blood Potency: 3
Disciplines: Celerity ●●●●, Dominate ●●●●, Majesty ●●, Perfidy ●●●●
Devotions: Golden Apple, Passion Fugue
Vitae: 12/3
Pledges:
Ice-Bond
Type: Vow
Tasks:
[Sophie Penrose] - Medial Forbiddance: Harming a Courtier of the Freehold in Good Standing (-2)
Boons:
[Sophie Penrose] - Adroitness: Persuasion, Socialize (+2)
Sanction: Pishogue: 10-Success Fleeting Winter 5: Every Sorrow a Jewel (-3)
Duration: Year and a Day (+3); Renewed
[Exceptions] The pledge is not broken and the curse is not triggered if a clause is broken or unfulfilled for any of the following reasons:
-Refusal to betray another friend or ally.
-Self-defense
-Either party was unaware their course of action or inaction would violate the pledge.
Note: If Sophie is mind-controlled or Frenzied and harms a Courtier, the curse does trigger.
Ice-Bond

Attacks...........................Damage.....Dice Pool.....Special
Skinning Knife/Scalpel.............1L..............3
9mm Glock.............................2L..............12...................Range 20/40/80, Capacity 17





Sir Royston Montjoy
“Monty”, The Phantom of Drury Lane

Type: Vampire
Covenant: Carthian
Clan: Nosferatu
Embrace: 1691
Apparent Age: Late 50s



Virtue: Humble
Vice: Cruel

Background: Everyone knows that there are certain things one does not do, certain places one does not go to, if they plan to continue living a healthy life. A young, middle-class girl does not go strolling around Tottenham in the middle of the night, and a group of drug-addicts (assuming they are sober enough to realize), do not invade the private offices of a multinational corporation. It is just not done.

The same applies to monsters.

In London, this unwritten rule was simple. Stay above the ground. All of the lands above the street level were, for a certain, given value, ‘safe’. Certainly, there were angry werewolves, and trickster fae, and vampires could be territorial and vicious. But go beneath the streets, into the Undertown, the London Below, and it is a wholly different world. London, you see, was a very old city. Two thousand years and counting, and in that time, places could get… lost. Basements, passageways, sewers, vaults, mithraeums and cult headquarters, graves beneath graves beneath graves. No one quite knew how deep below the earth the Undertown of London stretched, but it was a place of danger and mystery. It was where the monsters — the real monsters, not the petty poseurs who strutted the stage of the world above — where the true monsters lived.

Monsters, in other words, like Sir Royston Montjoy.

In his life, Royston Montjoy was an actor. He was more than that, he was a very good actor, one of the finest in 17th century London. He played the leading role of every romance, had a beautiful singing voice, and set the hearts of many a society belle aflutter. He had dash, he had verve, he had that magnificent ability to make every person in the audience feel as though Montjoy played for him and him alone. For a few glorious years, Montjoy had it all. He married an Italian actress in 1665, when he was 26. He was knighted in the Christmas Honors of 1681, and he had all the money he wanted. Life was beautiful, and even his separation from his wife (in 1680) couldn’t ruin it.

Time could. And that’s the ironic secret of Sir Royston Montjoy, that he asked for immortality. He was getting old, he stopped playing the romantic leads and started getting the distinguished, mature roles. His body began to ache, and time was running out. Royston panicked, and he began to search for something, anything that would halt his slide into infirmity and decay. That would have been too much, to lose everything he had gained to Time. So, one midnight, sometime in the 1690s, Royston Montjoy found himself seated at a chess board opposite Death, dressed in an undertaker’s suit and a grinning death’s-head mask. How the meeting came about, Royston will never say. Only that desperation always finds a way. And when Royston asked to live forever, in exchange for all his fortune and all his fame, Death agreed.

Montjoy could have accepted the loss of his wealth. It had never mattered to him other than as a way of living the high life. He accepted that he would have to disappear, that fame could not follow him to undeath. But what Death failed to mention was that he would lose his voice, that it would break and ruin and that Sir Royston Montjoy’s beautiful singing voice would turn to a scratchy, unholy horror. No one could hear him and do anything but shudder.

Montjoy went a little mad. He haunted the theaters he knew so well, especially the Theater Royal at Drury Lane, and he built his world there, turning it more and more to his liking with every rebuilt theater. Little passageways that only he knew about. Guards who believed every word that he said to them. Addicts who thought him some dark angel, actors who believed in the Phantom of Drury Lane. He became a ghost, whispering through the world, watching the world he could never again participate.

In modern nights, Montjoy is saner if not sane. He’s a monster, with bloody talons and a sadistic frame of mind, and though he is not the most dangerous demon to lurk beneath the floorboards, neither is he the least. He maintains his Necropolis beneath the West End theater district, with its labyrinthine catacombs and its bizarre theaters and storerooms. With blood and secret whispers, he controls his people, the actors and staff of the Theater Royal, and the homeless vagrants who cluster beneath it. With black magic and force of will, he knows every nook and every corner, can bend every aspect of the theater to his darkest desire. He occasionally lets it out to other vampires or denizens of the supernatural world, in exchange for favors. Those he dislikes never see the light of day again.

Rank: 4
Mental 6; Physical 3; Social 6
Willpower: 1
Blood Potency: 7
Notable Powers: Great Actor, Phantom of Drury Lane, Puppetmaster (Dominate & Obfuscate)


Tejal "Chris" Krishnamurthy

Type: Ghoul
Regnant's Clan: Nosferatu
Regnant's Covenant: Carthian
Enthralled: 1998
Apparent Age: Mid-20s

Virtue: Just
Vice: Clever

Background: Nothing really singled out Tejal Krishnamurthy for his later destiny as Sir Royston Montjoy's personal hatchetman. He was a normal kid from the East End. His parents were lower-middle class and generally nice people, his brother was a year older and bullied him only the normal sibling amount, and his sister was three years younger and thus doted on. He went to the local comprehensive school where he excelled at nothing other than football, but was neither particularly horrible at anything except history. His grades weren't good enough to get him into a university, so Chris (as people called him, to his long-suffering annoyance) got a job as a day laborer.

Most people who knew Chris considered him a nice guy, an honest, upright fellow. Good with his hands, he was a volunteer at the local nursing home, acting as an unpaid handyman, and generally helped keep his corner of the council flats in good shape. He never got involved in gangs, didn't do drugs, and was active on the dating scene. Pretty much everyone liked the guy, even if they had to admit that Chris had a taste for melodrama -- everything was more dramatic around Chris. The man saw conspiracies and intrigues all around. His crew-boss was having an affair, the government was spying on his co-worker, his sister was secretly working for MI6.

He didn't actually notice when a real conspiracy scooped him up. Chris's downfall came when he took a job fixing some things in the Theater Royal at Drury Lane, right when Sir Royston Montjoy needed someone to deliver a certain amount of tutelary dentistry to a recalcitrant neonate. He spotted Chris. Chris was a big, tough-looking fellow, he had a physical job and he worked out. Montjoy, being a master of Kindred mentalism, crushed the young man's psyche like an egg-shell and told him to go do the job. This, Chris did. He did it very thoroughly -- somewhere in the body of a wiry British-Indian handyman lurked the soul of a berserker.

Montjoy was so impressed that he transformed Chris into his ghoul bodyguard and murderer. He broke Chris and remade him, with vinculums and mental conditioning and blood-addiction, and then he mostly left him alone. Even at the best of times, Sir Royston is not a sociable individual.

For the first few months, Chris was a wreck, but slowly, he started to rebuild his psyche. The human brain is lovely in that it can apply all sorts of cognitive dissonance to life. On the one hand, Chris was an addict now, the lowest, worst sort of addict. The taste of blood was always foremost in his mind, and one word from Montjoy could bring him to heel. Chris became a thug and a murderer, ready to hurt or kill anyone for just a taste of that precious Vitae. On the other hand, Chris was still, basically, Chris, a nice guy who was always ready to pitch in a helping hand, who was scrupulously honest and law-abiding, who loved for his parents and was the 'cool uncle' to his nieces and nephews.

In order to cope, Chris turned to vigilante-ism. In a way, he sees himself as a noir anti-hero. Chris is under no illusions that he's a messed-up addict, but some things just aren't right. So he tries to protect people. Just because he's screwed up and a miserable excuse for a human being doesn't mean he has to stand by and let more bad things happen to good people. Mind you, if Montjoy tells him to kill someone, well, tough luck -- Montjoy is the God and Boss and King of Chris's unsteady psyche, a dark and tormenting angel. But left to his own devices, Chris is driven to protect and save.

This of course means that he'll chop up a single mother one week if it'll get him his blood-fix, and kill some guy for trying to rape a girl the next. Sanity is not a concept on which Tejal Krishnamurthy has a terribly good grasp on. He tries, desperately, to hold onto his moral compass, but addiction and Montjoy serve to keep it spinning wildly around. To be fair, Chris doesn't really commit all that many atrocities. Most of what he does is deliver scares and occasional beatings to other vampires, which is... kind of easy to justify to himself, really. He scares a few nosy mortals, but Montjoy is savvy enough to realize that more often than not, the cover-up is as dangerous as the original crime.

Most of the time, Chris is just kind of left alone. He visits the Theater Royal once a month for his fix of Vitae, acts as Montjoy's bodyguard at various functions, and a few times a year he goes off and axes someone. Montjoy has other ghouls and thralls for other tasks. The rest of Chris's time is free, so he still works as a day laborer to earn money, still volunteers at the local nursing home. He's withdrawn from his family somewhat, since his lack of aging might be noticed, and hangs out more with other Kindred or local supernaturals, where he doesn't need to explain things... and where Chris's penchant for big talk doesn't get him in trouble with the Masquerade. You would think that becoming a ghoul would be enough drama for anyone, but Chris still turns everything around him into some greater plot or intrigue, one that will shake this city down to it's very foundations!

Chris doesn't look all that dangerous. He's a wiry young man with short, curly black hair and big hands, and a nose that's a bit crooked from having been broken on a construction site some years back. He smiles a lot and speaks with a mixed Hindi-Cockney accent (despite having been born in London). He's usually dressed in thick cargo pants and a plain t-shirt, and Montjoy's invested in a grey, Kevlar-lined jacket for him for 'business'. Chris's chosen weapon is a fire-axe, and he is much stronger than he looks, fighting with a mixture of vampiric blood and mad, addiction-driven strength.

Rank: 2
Mental 2; Physical 4; Social 3
Willpower: 1
Arete: 3
Notable Powers: Vigor 4; Addict

Scratch
Boss of the Machine, Mister Scratch, the Baron of Tottenham and Au Pair

Type: Vampire
Covenant: Invictus
Clan: Nosferatu
Embrace: 1921
Apparent Age: Mid-40s



Virtue: Patient
Vice: Greedy & Cowardly

Background: Scratch is a funny kind of coward. An incomplete coward. When taken by surprise he can handle himself adroitly without panicking or losing his panache. Or when he’s carefully planned and prepared to get into a situation — then he’s cool as a Minnesota New Year. But when he’s got something to dread — something hanging over him — some looming threat or problem that he can’t do anything to abort or defer — then he starts behaving erratically.

Credit it to growing up during the Great War. Credit it to seeing his dad carried off by the cops after a whole year spent on the lam, hauling his family from tenement to tenement. Credit it to going into a life of crime himself, because the kid of a two-time loser whose uncles all break fingers and run numbers doesn’t have a lot of options.

So eventually, the cops hounded him into becoming a stoolie. And his crimey pals hounded him into making his bones. And when the pressure from both sides got too intense, he did something stupid. He looked for protection from the most dangerous creatures on the face of the Earth. He went to the Phantom of Drury Lane, and asked to be Embraced.

Never get old? Be stronger and quicker than humans? Join a society dedicated to preventing people from even knowing you exist? Hell, it sounded like he’d be a fool not to jump on board. After all, he was already mostly nocturnal, and it wasn’t like he’d never seen blood spilled...

It took him about a week to understand what the Requiem really meant, particularly one as a Nosferatu. Everyone else had a good laugh.

Scratch laughed last, though. He kept his head down, changed his name, and used his second chance. He became the Kindred equivalent of the racketeer he was in life, and courtesy of his blood-ties with the eldest local member of Clan Nosferatu, Scratch is the day-to-day leader of the Clan. Not that he wanted the job. No, Scratch just wants to lay low and live the high life.

Scratch is also the head of the Machine, a criminal gang of about seven Nosferatu of different covenants, who have a simple goal. Make money. They deal in robberies, con-games, nothing long-term that might infringe on the turf of mortal gangs. But they pull of their heists, and they rake in the money hand over fist. They have no problem getting money, and they have no problem spending it, either — as long as they’re buying guns, drugs or stolen goods. They have difficulty when they want to get stocks, bonds or real-estate equity — in other words, stuff you can’t get just by plopping down a stack of cash.

The problem is, Scratch and his pals aren't used to thinking of money abstractly -- when he was alive, the gold standard was still a big deal. They don’t have the mindset for seeing money as a stream of placeholders in a vast, computerized financial network, but that kind of money — traceable, paper-trailed money blessed and accepted by banks and credit firms — is what they need to take their unstable payoffs and transform them into long-term benefits. And Scratch doesn't even realize he's got a problem. He's got stacks of money, after all, bales and boxes of it! It seems crazy that he can't just go to a bank and deposit it without explaining where it came from. But until someone explains the art of money laundering to Old Scratch, he's hit a glass ceiling for what he can do with his ill-gotten gains.

With slate-gray skin, sunken, sallow features and an almost comically long, hooked nose, Scratch’s very appearance threatens the Masquerade. His jaw doesn't hinge right and he's got a grin like a deep sea fish. Luckily, he has long mastered the power of moving unseen among the masses. This freedom from mortal mores of fashion or decency allows him to affect the fashions of his own time. He usually wears an old, worn zoot suit, including pointed shoes and a wide-brimmed hat replete with a sagging old feather. The occasional roach or centipede escapes from the folds of the suit, only to vanish again into the loose sleeves or collar.

Rank: 3
Mental 4; Physical 4; Social 4
Willpower: 1
Blood Potency: 5
Notable Powers: Gangster, Obfuscate


"Silk" Eddie Treadwell

Type: Vampire
Covenant: Invictus & Carthian
Clan: Nosferatu
Embrace: 1987 (enthralled in 1982)
Apparent Age: About 40



Virtue: Ambitious
Vice: Gluttonous

Background: Metaphorically, at least, Treadwell was a vampire long before his Embrace. He was a con-man, a club manager and frequent cocaine dealer in London’s discos and dance clubs. Those who knew him rarely dealt with him more than once because he typically sold bad drugs at inflated prices. But Treadwell was accomplished at presenting an illusion of wealth and power, and there were always more suckers waiting to be ushered into the glamorous life of addiction, so Treadwell never hurt for cash or groupies.

Initially a ghoul, Treadwell soon realized that he really wanted to be Kindred. The common rumor that goes out about Treadwell is that he paid to be Embraced, but those who know the truth have mostly faded from view. The rumor is common enough at this point that nobody cares if it’s true or not because they want to believe that Treadwell was such a vile creature that he would not just choose to give up his humanity, but pay to do so.

Oddly enough, Treadwell’s habits and lifestyle didn’t change a bit once he was Embraced. If anything, it gave him the power to do what he was already doing better. He expanded his operations to include whatever club drugs are popular. With the proceeds from his drug sales, he has accumulated three choice pieces of property: the bar Blackout, the dance club Excalibur, and (very recently) the goth-club Lucifer. He readily offers these up for use by any higher-ranking Invictus members, although he usually tries to squeeze a favor out of it when he does.

Treadwell has never legally died, although he’s been giving it consideration, just to get rid of his legal record. His youthful looks can only be attributed to Botox for so long.

Elder members of the Invictus like Treadwell because he is a willing dupe; he knows his place and stays there, biding his time and awaiting the rewards he know must come his way eventually. There are few depths Treadwell will not sink to in his campaign for power. He’s in the Invictus for the long haul, and he’s certain that he will, in time, be Prince. To that end, he has made a reputation for himself of being a willing performer of the covenant’s dirty work. Small-time enforcement, threats, intimidation and the like are Treadwell’s stock-in-trade. If mortals get out of line, it’s often Treadwell who’s sent in to see that they don’t forget their place for long. The secret to Treadwell’s success is simple: he enjoys his work. Few things compare to the joy of pushing others around and putting them through Hell if they resist. If a mortal persists in causing trouble, Treadwell has no qualms about committing murder. He’s also fairly adept at covering his tracks when he does so. These days, Treadwell works for Scratch’s Machine, using the elder Nosferatu as a stepping stone to greater things in the Invictus. No one, but no one, is under the impression that the arrangement is permanent, or that Treadwell would hesitate for even a moment to sell out Scratch if it came to that. Treadwell also maintains a few under-the-table dealings with the Carthians, a purely mercenary but so far mutually beneficial arrangement.

Ironically, though Treadwell may kill mortals in the line of duty, he rarely does so in the act of feeding. He has a huge herd of young women from whom he feeds, but given his appetites, he almost has to. Treadwell is among the most prolific feeders in the city, feeding far more than he needs to for simple subsistence. Treadwell has a habit of glutting himself on blood until he can’t hold any more, even if he’s only down a single Vitae. Due to all the blood in his system, Treadwell often has a rosy pink complexion that makes him particularly adept at passing for mortal.

Treadwell is a bronze-skinned man of indeterminate heritage in his late thirties or early forties, his hair extravagantly quiffed, dressed in a silk suit of some expensive cut. He usually has an unlit cigarette holder in his mouth, and every individual aspect of him screams success and wealth. It doesn’t quite work. ‘Silk Eddie’ was, is, and would always be a bottom feeder. He’s a drug dealer and a pimp, and no matter how he dressed it up, after every meeting with him even the lowliest of scum want to wash their hands. He is sleaze personified.

Rank: 2
Mental 2; Physical 3; Social 4
Willpower: 1
Blood Potency: 3
Notable Powers: Terrifying Thug, Vigor


Lydia
Lydia Morreluck, Morlock, Cindy Mourville

Type: Vampire
Affiliation: Freehold of New Jerusalem
Court: Autumn
Entitlements: Archer of the Lonely March
Clan: Nosferatu
Bloodline: Badacelli
Embrace: 1988
Apparent Age: Early 20s



Virtue: Hopeful
Vice: Vain

Cindy Mourville's parents were not ... the best people. They were hardcore fundamentalists, some arch-conservative Protestant sect that believed that the End Times were at hand and that sin was everywhere. From an early age, Cindy was educated at home, force-fed a diet of countless Thou Shalt Nots. When the young girl broke one of them, she was punished, usually by being starved. When she was thirteen years old, malnutrition robbed Cindy of her sight. She went blind due to a Vitamin A deficiency. Her parents, distrustful of any earthly authority, put off going to the doctor until it was far too late.

In a strange sort of way, Cindy's blindness helped keep her sane. The reality of the loss of her sight broke her out of the constricted world-view her parents had created, and it led her to realize that this was not normal. So Cindy kept silent. She planned. She considered. She waited. And when she was sixteen years old, she left home forever.

Things didn't quite work out the way Cindy -- now calling herself Lydia -- had planned. With minimal money, no education, and a severe disability, opportunities for her were slim. She was just barely getting by when she attracted the attention of one Alessandro Bourettien. Alessandro was one of the Baddacelli, a bloodline of Clan Nosferatu cursed to blindness. He Embraced her, as a reward for her sufferings, and perhaps as a salve against the loneliness that gnawed at his own soul.

Lydia drifted in Kindred society, though in some ways she acclimated to the transformation exceptionally well. A marginal, dispossessed member of society before, being a neonate of Clan Nosferatu was only a little different. Though the rhetoric of dominance and of being a Predator of the Night appeals to Lydia in deep-down way, Lydia just never had it in her to hurt people. A terrifyingly botched feeding in her early Requiem led her to feed almost exclusively from pigeons and other animals, and that in turn led to her own interest in pigeons and even to ghouling one of her favorites, whom she named Cher Ami.

At the prompting of her sire, Lydia joined the Circle of the Crone. Her original motives were purely mercenary, as they had magic that Lydia wanted, and in turn, she could offer the mimicry of the Baddacelli to their services. But perhaps as a rejection of the myriad Thou Shalt Nots of her upbringing, Lydia has joined in with the Acolytes with a passion. She respects Abonde vastly, and is part of that witchcraft-focused branch of cult, though she's been among the many who have been nodding along in recent years as Cynthia of the Mara argues for a more proactive approach.

Her own quests brought her to the Golden Room cult, and then to Scratch's Machine. The fact of the matter is, Lydia is used to being a marginal person, and she's good at being a marginal person, but she is very, very tired of being a marginal person. She doesn't quite have the ruthless streak necessary to thrive in Kindred society, but she would very much wish to achieve the kind of power and wealth that other Kindred have. She just hasn't quite managed it yet, though she's picked up a nice nest egg so far.

Lydia has pale skin, quite nearly translucent, but her hair is dyed a vivid, eye-splitting pink color, and allowed to fall limply in front of her face. Her eyes are hidden beneath shocking-pink bangs, which is intentional given that Lydia has no eyes, only a blank expanse of skin in her eye sockets. She dresses appropriately to her hair color, with a short, leather skirt with a wide belt, a somewhat ragged black blouse with a skull emblazoned on it, thigh-high boots, and fingerless black gloves. As an accent, there is usually a spiked collar worn around her neck. Though she looks like -- charitably speaking -- a freak, this is entirely intentional. The Curse of Clan Nosferatu ensures that Lydia always comes across as being somehow off, and so she cultivates her punk-rocker appearance as a way of offering mortals a rational explanation for why she makes them feel odd. That and she just likes to dress up however she wants with no care for what others think.

Rank: 2
Mental 4; Physical 2; Social 3
Willpower: 1
Blood Potency: 3
Notable Powers: Seeing-Eye Pigeon, Blind, Unspeakably Nice


Irina Stamos

Type: Vampire
Affiliation: People's Republic
Clan: Nosferatu
Embrace: 2008
Apparent Age: Mid-twenties



Virtue: Kind
Vice: Vain
Long-Term Aspiration: To get a boyfriend that lasts more than six months.

Background:Irina’s parents met in Athens - her father was a young man travelling abroad before going to University. Her mother was working as a tour guide as she struggled to pay her rent. The two immediately hit it off, and Irina’s father, Daniel Thompson, cancelled the rest of his trip to spend more time with her. Kalliope, or Kallie for short, was even younger than Daniel, but she cared for him greatly.

When Daniel’s time was up and he had to return home, he asked Kallie to come with him - and so she did. The pair had known each other for just four months at that point, but within another two they were married. By the time they had been together for a year, Irina was on the way.

Although the pair was young, they had no concerns over money - Daniel’s father was a successful businessman, and was more than happy to give his son and new daughter-in-law a start. Daniel completed a degree in business and followed his father into the property business. Kallie, although untrained, started a small modelling agency that quickly took off. And Irina grew up in comfort - she went to a private school, lived in a big house, and had everything she could ever need.

Growing up, Irina was a very popular girl. Pretty and funny (if not especially bright), she was well liked. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life, and her parents, knowing that she was no great shakes academically, encouraged her to do what felt right. For a while, she worked as a model with her mother’s company, but gave that up in under a year, disliking the other bitchy models and the demands of designers. She did liked the idea of design herself, however, and enrolled in a BA (Hons) Fashion Design and Development course at London College of Fashion. Although she did have a good time on the course, she knew it wasn’t what she wanted to do. As time rolled on, she auditioned for some community theatre for something to do while she considered her life… and found herself adoring the stage. She’d found her passion.

She also realised that she didn’t want to lean on her parents for support. She applied for a place at the London Academy of Dramatic Arts - although she had never studied drama before, she absolutely nailed her audition and she was given the place of someone who had dropped out. For her first year, she was put in a mixed sex dorm, and one of her roommates would go on to become her best friend - Michael Oliver. The two bonded quickly, and during their second year moved into a flat by themselves. Irina paid for her part of the rent by putting her skills to good use - making clothing and selling it to other students, each a unique item and therefore with unique appeal.

After graduating, she and Michael moved closer to the West End together and began auditioning like mad. Irina, naturally, hit the big time first, in a London performance of West Side Story as Maria. She has enjoyed much success since then.

Irina is one of those infuriating people who makes everything look easy. She managed to pick up fashion and acting, without prior experience in either field, with ease. Her singing voice sounds effortless, she picks up dance moves in minutes, and her performances are nuanced and touching. Although she is not particularly adept when it comes to more academic pursuits, she has a very high level of emotional intelligence and social skills. She is a charming and charismatic young woman.

On the other hand, she doesn’t handle stress very well. She can loose her temper in a flash if she is having that sort of day. She is also very sensitive to criticism - even mild criticism cuts her deeply. When upset or angry, she will often storm off and not be heard from for days.


Covenant: Carthian
Clan: Nosferatu

Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 2, Resolve 3
Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 4, Composure 2

Mental Skills Craft (Clothing) 4, Investigation 1, Politics 1, Science 1
Physical Skills Athletics 2, Brawl 1, Weaponry 1
Social Skills Empathy 2, Expression (Dance, Drama) 3, Persuasion (Seduction) 3, Socialize 3, Subterfuge 3

Merits: Allies (Poor) 1, Double-Jointed 2, Fame 1, Language (Greek; Native is English) 1, Resources 2, Status (
Pull; Support Group; Influence (Poor)
People's Republic) 1, Striking Looks (Wide-Eyed Innocent) 2
Lair: Michael's & Irina's Apartment

Willpower: 5
Humanity: 7; +1 Support Group
Universal Banes: Sunlight, Fire, Frenzy, Clan Weakness
Personal Banes: Counting, Crossroads, Picky Eater

Initiative: 5
Defense: 2
Health: 7
Speed: 10

Blood Potency: 1
Disciplines: Vigor ●●, Majesty ●●●●, Obfuscate ●●
Devotions: Enchantment
Vitae: 10/1


Rajani Ravindra

Type: Vampire
Covenant: Unbound
Clan: Ventrue
Bloodline: ???
Embrace: 1857
Apparent Age: 28



Virtue: Curious
Vice: Shy

Background: Rajani Ravindra was born Chane Nakhasi in Punjab, in 1830. Her family were clothiers, dressmakers for generations stretching back into antiquity -- to this day, Rajani knows rather more about clothing than may be expected -- but they had higher hopes for their daughter. Chane was pretty, she was quiet, and she was attentive, so it was determined that she could enter the service of the local border-prince, and thus secure both the prince's favor and, one hoped, a favorable marriage. Chane, being a quiet and practical girl and not given to causing a fuss, agreed, and so it was done.

Her family's hopes were justified. Chane was married in 1848 to an old soldier who was part of the border-princes personal bodyguard, and she had three children over the following decade, only one of whom would survive to maturity. In many ways, Chane's life seemed set. She was well-to-do by the standards of her caste, well-married and respectable, and her position in the border-prince's retinue allowed her to indulge her own hobbies. She listened to local folk-stories, and managed by dint of connections to learn to read a little. She had some hopes, in the very back of her mind, of writing a collection of tales of Kashmir.

Two matters interrupted Chane's modest, domestic idyll. First was that not all of the border-prince's ancestors had been duly sent on to their next life. On the contrary, the border-prince's great-grandfather remained in the castle, and this was, at least among the servants, something of an open secret. One did not walk the corridors beyond a certain hour on certain nights, nor did one question of the Raja's Ghost fed upon your veins. The other matter was that the border-prince made the thoroughly unfortunate decision to join the Great Rebellion. Sometimes called the Sepoy Mutiny or the Indian Revolt of 1857, the Great Rebellion was a subcontinent-spanning conflagration of startling violence. Entire British garrisons were slaughtered by the rebellious Sepoys (Indian soldiers serving the then-dominant British East India Company) man, woman, and child, and when the British responded, their retaliation was so vicious that they were called the 'Devil Wind' that swept through India, executing tens, possibly hundreds of thousands.

It was thus, in early 1858, that the border prince and other rebels met the British regiments in open battle, and they were slaughtered. Chane's quiet, orderly life was torn asunder, her lord dead, her husband likely as well. More than that, the British were coming, and there was little reason to expect their mercy. Others might have broken in these circumstances, but Chane had ever prided herself on a practical outlook, and so armed with a torch, her husband's sword, and a collection of folk-tales, she sought out the Raja's Ghost in his crypt. She made her offer, and the Raja's Ghost -- threatened, or amused, or impressed, it is impossible to say -- Embraced her that night.

Chane made her plans then. She took her young son and such money as she could steal, and fled Punjab. Over the following years, the deathless mother and her young boy were refugees across much of the subcontinent. The Indian Kindred were torn apart in those years, and so it is was some time before Chane settled in Gujarat, and saw her son firmly ensconced with a local family. Over the following decades, she would see him mature, and flourish, and marry, and watch her blood live once more.

This was not to say that Chane was accepted. Kindred society in India, even after the Great Rebellion, was organized along caste lines, and try as she might, Chane was neither Brahmin nor Kshatriya, could never pass for a scholar or warrior. To find acceptance and support, the young Kindred, ever practical, turned to the Dalit, who were delighted to have her. It was in those years of the late 19th century that Chane took on the name Rajani -- Wife of the Raja -- as an ironic tribute to her Embrace. Chane stayed in Gujarat until the turn of the century, until came the time to bury her one son. She stayed a little longer, to make certain that his family was well cared for, and then she departed, to travel the world and indulge her curiosity. She has done it ever since.

She presently lives in a crypt in the Kensal Green cemetery.

Rank: 3
Mental 6; Physical 4; Social 2
Willpower: 1
Blood Potency: 5
Notable Powers: Bond-Breaker, Dressmaker, Necromancer







 

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