Angelica

[TheShadyRaven]

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ANGELICA

 

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THE LIFE OF A PARIAH

 

"You may call me Angelica - or the Pale Lady, if you prefer the monicker I've been given by the crypts' custodians. They are wary of me, because they sense I am not one of the living. But what do they know about death? Have they ever died, only to awaken once again, buried in their own tomb? My devout sire - cursed be his name - believes this is the proper way to introduce a newborn childe to their new existence. As our Lord Jesus conquered death, so do we, he used to say.

That just shows how much of a deluded, fanatical fool that he is. God does not care about us - why would he? The farmer does not care if a plant dies: he merely replaces it. God did nothing when the plague took my village, leaving me alone. He did nothing when my sire forced damnation upon me. So why would He now show mercy to a monster? No, no. God has turned His back upon me, and so I have done the same. I don't need a God to remind me of all that was taken from me. If my destiny is Hell, I will get there picking my own path.

It was this reasoning that drove a wedge between my sire and me. He soon recognized his mistake - and while he spared me the finality of oblivion, he erased my existence. I suspect he did it not out of spite, but out of shame. The fact that his judgment had been so wrong - that he picked a childe so unworthy of his precious teachings - it diminished him in the eyes of his peers. And as pious and wise as he claimed to be, he was also vain and proud. Every time I rebeled against him was a blow to the powerful image he had built so carefully. He cast me out, and called me Caitiff.

I won't bore you with the details of my travel east. Yes, I am far from Venice. I've been to Cluj-Napoca and Sibiu before I arrived here. But I knew where I was going. I've seen it - I see many things. I'm told it's an ancient gift, passed on in blood through the generations. I don't care where it comes from: I have the sight, and so I use it. I settled down here, in the catacombs of the Cathedral. Other Kindred like to ignore my presence. They pretend I don't exist, and I'm happy to stay out of their way as long as they leave me alone. Our kind's politics are a ruthless mix of betrayals and alliances of convenience. It's a game I'd rather not play.

One might object that none among us can thrive in isolation. After all, isn't our nature that of a predator? What would be of the Kindred, without mortals to hunt? We flock to their cities, gathering like maggots on a putrescent corpse. As we stalk the same halls, we must learn to deal with each other - and of course, some among our elders claim authority: over the city, over its people, over those of us who can't match their might. So I do what I need to survive. Not all tyrants can be denied, and sometimes, it's easier to bend the knee than to break your chains.

I have a servant - a dreadful little thing who reminds me of the days when I still could see my own reflection. She's a miserable one, a reject no one would look at a second time. That means she can remain hidden in plain sight - just another unfortunate soul unworthy of attention. It was her who planted the bait that lured you here. Now that you are trapped, I'll only have to wait for your demise, but fear not. Your blood shall not be wasted."

 

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THE FACE OF DEATH

 

Pale and gaunt, Angelica shows either the signs of a life spent fighting against malnutrition, or of an Embrace which reached her after prolonged sickness had taken its toll. In life she could have been beautiful - with elegant cheekbones and a hooked nose betraying her mediterranean heritage. Her black hair, long and straight, is the perfect contrast to gray skin which is unnaturally pale. Tall and underweight, Angelica would blend in among those afflicted by a plague. Blue circles under her dark eyes only contribute to her eerie appearance, so much so that when she walks through the catacombs she claimed for herself, mortals mistake her for a ghostly apparition. Angelica does nothing to discourage this warped perception of her. The long, flowing white dresses she often wears could, in fact, remind of a shroud. Still, despite her frail looks, the woman possesses supernatural resilience which many other Kindred have underestimated. While the woman's body might appear sickly and corpse-like, her voice is strong and melodious, with argentine tones that many find compelling and alluring - a fact which might or might not be linked to a quirk specific to her Embrace. Even more strangely, Angelica can't be seen through any reflections - no water pond nor mirror seem able to capture her image. This patchwork of unusual traits has perplexed more than one of her peers, and the woman is not inclined to disclose additional information. With no clan to back her up, this vague ascendancy clearly marks Angelica as a Caitiff and a pariah among the Kindred.

 

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Notes for the Storyteller: the merit Enchanting Voice is from V20 and provides a +2 bonus to certain social rolls (if the character speaks) - I like that it mitigates her clan weakness and further pushes the idea that she's a bit of a "botched" Cappadocian. It's unfortunate there's no real Caitiff option, as I would have gone with that. If picked, I'll also need some help with the touchstones (which should be 5, if I am correct): I never played VtR and it's an unfamiliar concept for me.

Edited December 3, 2023 by TheShadyRaven (see edit history)

[TheShadyRaven]

 

HELENA

 

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Angelica's loyal ghoul, Helena, is a simple street beggar. While she is not as gaunt and corpse-like like her mistress, Helena is underweight and malnourished. She has no family, and the only things she possesses are the contents of the tiny shelter she calls home. Having lived most of her life on the streets, the woman is by necessity a skilled pickpocket and thief. Virtues don't fill an empty belly, after all. Helena has a rebellious streak that did not go unnoticed by Angelica; like her mistress, the woman will stop at nothing to come out ahead and ensure her own survival.