grotsnik
Arcane
- Joined
- Jul 11, 2010
- Messages
- 1,671
Right, here's a preliminary list. Feel free to shout out any options you'd like that you don't see here, and likewise, don't feel you have to vote straight away if you'd like to see what other people come up with.
Character Creation
What are you?
A) To many, the Anarchs’ mission seems as hopeless and naïve as ever. You took your plan of a co-ordinated attack on the Prince’s palace in Knightsbridge to Robert Griddle, who rejected it. Since then, you’ve spent time drowning yourself in fist-fights and acts of calculated recklessness, in between making overtures towards Griddle’s rivals, trying to win their support against him. In the past few nights, however, you’ve made a surprising new contact, a powerful figure within the Camarilla who claims to be sympathetic to your cause, which may turn things around entirely…
You are BRUJAH.
B) You live away from London, tending to the great Cliveden estate. Walking the pathways from folly to folly, sometimes swinging from the branches of the tangled oaks that conceal the mansion from the network of roads and motorways making up the Green Belt, accompanied by the two bloated, fearsome ghoul-hounds in your service, searching for intruders. Occasionally Prince Kirkbeck will wander in your gardens, alone and melancholy, but most nights you hardly see a soul - which suits you just fine. The rest of the staff speak of you, the Gamekeeper, with great respect. This idyll, however, is soon to be interrupted…
You are GANGREL.
C) What the fuck are you doing? You’re jeopardising your career, your marriage, your relationship with your children…everything. But he said he needs his footprints erased, and so every night you work late at your cubicle in the Metropolitan Police HQ in Broadway, covering his tracks, removing all trace of him…in the hope that he’ll give you some more of his blood. Blood! You’re fucking drinking blood, and you lust after it, it drives you, it’s the only thing that drives you – what are you turning into? What have you become?
You are GHOUL.
D) You dealt with your younger business rival in the customary manner…and now business couldn’t be better. The recent war caused a great deal of worry amongst London vampires; many Camarilla members and even a few ‘anonymous’ parties with Sabbat sympathies have seen the wisdom of investing their funds in an independent Giovanni bank…just in case. In return, you’ve been able to spend more lavishly on the hospices scattered around the city that provide you with much-needed corpses. Your only concern is a certain Follower of Set, using your connections at Dover to bring a certain product into the city – which, you fear, might have unfortunate implications were any of your clients to hear about it.
You are GIOVANNI.
E) Your partner thinks you moved to London to be nearer to your friends. The truth is that you moved to London to be nearer to the fucking vamps. They’re all around you – and it’s only now, in your first nights in the city, that you understand just how numerous the bloodsuckers are. They whisper from the alleyways and they stalk the dark streets. And you’ll hunt them down by day, like the Messenger taught you. Cut off their heads, turn them to ash. The only question is…where to begin?
You are HUNTER.
F) You have come to this strange city for a time – investigating rumours of peculiar lights in the sky and the gateways that exist far underground beneath the ruins of human civilisation. You lodge with the vampires of the Sabbat, who treat you kindly enough…though, you suspect, they are more curious about the nature of your ‘mission’ and how it could benefit them than anything else. In vain, you attempt to organise an expedition to discover more about the phenomena, but the Sabbat leadership is too busy trying to rebuild its strength. Before long, you fear, you will be used as a pawn in some political game.
You are KIASYD.
G) Your sire never gave you a chance; her scheming and cowardice, twenty-five years ago, led to her being exiled into the countryside – and you, newly embraced, along with her. She has often told you about the glories of Dark London, the nobility of your bloodline, your right to rule in the Sabbat. After countless years of pointless manipulating and toying with the inhabitants of a godforsaken West Country town, the call has finally gone out; the London Sabbat needs aid. Now you and your sire are returning to the most ancient of cities, to reclaim what’s rightfully yours.
You are LASOMBRA.
H) He took you away from the care home. A big black car with leather seats and he sat you down there, looking at you like he wanted to eat you up, and he said, don’t be afraid. You’re going to take a little trip. Just like Alice, in her Wonderland. And it shifted as he bit down, and you could see the world as it really was, the veil lifted, the great Eternal City and the monsters that lived in ordinary houses there. In the Underworld, at the rats’ tea party, you woke your White Rabbit, the Row Man. He speaks a strange language and he likes to play dress-up and he kills people, sometimes, not always. You think you made him mad, only he makes you sane.
You are MALKAVIAN.
I) Jack’s Warren is to be rebuilt, as a smokescreen, a first defensive position from which your kind can scurry back to your real warrens. As your compatriots hollow out the tunnels, acting out the old sacred rituals to consecrate your new home, your primogen is attempting to ingratiate himself with the Camarilla nobility in order to win funds and acquire new surveillance equipment – and some among you begin to fear the lengths he will go to in order to get the cash he needs. Although you have been forbidden from stealing anything that will be missed from the world above, you and a couple of compatriots are now seriously considering a night-time raid on the skyscrapers of the kine…
You are NOSFERATU.
J) You were the one, right. You said to blow up the rivers and flush them Nossies out. Do you regret it? Fuck, no. They ain’t your brethren any more than they’re some other cunt’s. And that’s why you deserved to be made ductus. You’re a soldier, you understand that – but what you want is a chance to be a fucking soldier again. Camarilla dogs need to be got at. Some necks need to be snapped. And instead the bosses whisper in the shadows about rebuilding strength, biding your time…but what’s the point of planning for peace when there’s bastards trying to kill you right on the other side of the river?
You are NOSFERATU ANTITRIBU.
K) You have wormed your way into this city slowly; secret meetings at the Reptile House, late at night at the Zoo, making a few choice contacts. Your product is now entering the city at a steady rate, through the usual routes. It’s quickly being seized upon by the homeless population of thin-bloods, caitiffs and weaklings, too starved and too puny to feed directly – it’s even begun to find popularity amongst some of the more fashionable Toreador, who disdain the brutish idea of attacking Kine in order to dine. All’s as it should be. As they say, you corrupt a man by giving him what he wants.
You are SETITE.
L) Your club Whiplash is still doing respectable business amongst the Kine – but Kindred are abandoning your club in droves. You blame the nearby presence of the Pleasure ‘N’ Pain, which has become the de facto haven for Camarilla meetings – and quietly, trying not to overstep the limits, you attempt to undermine them at every turn, hoping to buy up their famous Harpy Gwendolen Rickless, even dabbling in an intriguing hallucinatory variety of blood that’s doing the rounds. Perhaps, however, the truth is that, as even the most conservative Kindred embrace the new technology, Harpies are becoming less and less relevant as a source of information…
You are TOREADOR.
M) If you want to defect, begin by investigating Samantha Eames. That was what Dubrik said. But how are you supposed to climb the ladder in an organisation that’s entirely stagnant? Still, you’ve taken some risks – and you’re beginning to suspect that Eames is up to something big. There’s something in the ruins, you believe, below the Greenwich chantry. Sometimes, in a fit of panic, you imagine that it could even be one of the antediluvians themselves. But Dubrik keeps pushing for more evidence, and your curious behaviour has begun to alienate your Camarilla ‘peers’. The closer you get, the more you become certain that you’re going to be found out.
You are TREMERE (ANTITRIBU).
N) Ostensibly, you have been sent with a letter of accreditation from the Cardinal in Cape Town, to contact his counterpart in London and offer your services as an extremely swift, cold-blooded and adept assassin to the beleaguered organisation. And, indeed, that is part of your function – the Assamite tricksters are perfectly skilled, of course, but they lack your very specific set of talents. Besides, your higher purpose – your true mission, as assigned to you by your master in the True Black Hand – is to remain a secret, at least for the moment.
You are TRUE BRUJAH.
O) You’ve done sterling work organising the Sabbat efforts in Birmingham; and now, it seems, the Cardinal himself has asked that you should be made full Archbishop in the capital, in charge of regrouping the organisation in the face of relentless Camarilla attacks. And so your coffin, containing its vital pinch of earth from your homeland, is to be shipped down to London in a private train, accompanied by your family of ghoul retainers, your loyal Paladin, and your various flesh-crafting experiments. You will have, you imagine, nearly full reign…but the Cardinal’s eye will be forever on you, and you must not fail.
You are TZIMISCE.
P) Sometimes you feel a little like Sisyphus; condemned to roll a boulder forever uphill, only to lose your grip on it at every step. Your so-called allies amongst the barons seek constant favours from you, cover-ups and manipulations within the Kine government…and the rest of the Camarilla nobility shun you and try to trip you up at every turn. Your power is, at least, consolidated – Fellowes now runs a team of bodyguards and spies, and you’ve never been wealthier, and yet you remain uneasy, both about Samantha Eames’ dealings with the creature known as Hob, and the sense of rising unrest in the city as the summer grows ever hotter…
You are VENTRUE. You are ANTHONY SOMMERS.
Added possibilities:
Q) You are SAMANTHA EAMES.
R) You are EDGAR FELLOWES.
Character Creation
What are you?
A) To many, the Anarchs’ mission seems as hopeless and naïve as ever. You took your plan of a co-ordinated attack on the Prince’s palace in Knightsbridge to Robert Griddle, who rejected it. Since then, you’ve spent time drowning yourself in fist-fights and acts of calculated recklessness, in between making overtures towards Griddle’s rivals, trying to win their support against him. In the past few nights, however, you’ve made a surprising new contact, a powerful figure within the Camarilla who claims to be sympathetic to your cause, which may turn things around entirely…
You are BRUJAH.
B) You live away from London, tending to the great Cliveden estate. Walking the pathways from folly to folly, sometimes swinging from the branches of the tangled oaks that conceal the mansion from the network of roads and motorways making up the Green Belt, accompanied by the two bloated, fearsome ghoul-hounds in your service, searching for intruders. Occasionally Prince Kirkbeck will wander in your gardens, alone and melancholy, but most nights you hardly see a soul - which suits you just fine. The rest of the staff speak of you, the Gamekeeper, with great respect. This idyll, however, is soon to be interrupted…
You are GANGREL.
C) What the fuck are you doing? You’re jeopardising your career, your marriage, your relationship with your children…everything. But he said he needs his footprints erased, and so every night you work late at your cubicle in the Metropolitan Police HQ in Broadway, covering his tracks, removing all trace of him…in the hope that he’ll give you some more of his blood. Blood! You’re fucking drinking blood, and you lust after it, it drives you, it’s the only thing that drives you – what are you turning into? What have you become?
You are GHOUL.
D) You dealt with your younger business rival in the customary manner…and now business couldn’t be better. The recent war caused a great deal of worry amongst London vampires; many Camarilla members and even a few ‘anonymous’ parties with Sabbat sympathies have seen the wisdom of investing their funds in an independent Giovanni bank…just in case. In return, you’ve been able to spend more lavishly on the hospices scattered around the city that provide you with much-needed corpses. Your only concern is a certain Follower of Set, using your connections at Dover to bring a certain product into the city – which, you fear, might have unfortunate implications were any of your clients to hear about it.
You are GIOVANNI.
E) Your partner thinks you moved to London to be nearer to your friends. The truth is that you moved to London to be nearer to the fucking vamps. They’re all around you – and it’s only now, in your first nights in the city, that you understand just how numerous the bloodsuckers are. They whisper from the alleyways and they stalk the dark streets. And you’ll hunt them down by day, like the Messenger taught you. Cut off their heads, turn them to ash. The only question is…where to begin?
You are HUNTER.
F) You have come to this strange city for a time – investigating rumours of peculiar lights in the sky and the gateways that exist far underground beneath the ruins of human civilisation. You lodge with the vampires of the Sabbat, who treat you kindly enough…though, you suspect, they are more curious about the nature of your ‘mission’ and how it could benefit them than anything else. In vain, you attempt to organise an expedition to discover more about the phenomena, but the Sabbat leadership is too busy trying to rebuild its strength. Before long, you fear, you will be used as a pawn in some political game.
You are KIASYD.
G) Your sire never gave you a chance; her scheming and cowardice, twenty-five years ago, led to her being exiled into the countryside – and you, newly embraced, along with her. She has often told you about the glories of Dark London, the nobility of your bloodline, your right to rule in the Sabbat. After countless years of pointless manipulating and toying with the inhabitants of a godforsaken West Country town, the call has finally gone out; the London Sabbat needs aid. Now you and your sire are returning to the most ancient of cities, to reclaim what’s rightfully yours.
You are LASOMBRA.
H) He took you away from the care home. A big black car with leather seats and he sat you down there, looking at you like he wanted to eat you up, and he said, don’t be afraid. You’re going to take a little trip. Just like Alice, in her Wonderland. And it shifted as he bit down, and you could see the world as it really was, the veil lifted, the great Eternal City and the monsters that lived in ordinary houses there. In the Underworld, at the rats’ tea party, you woke your White Rabbit, the Row Man. He speaks a strange language and he likes to play dress-up and he kills people, sometimes, not always. You think you made him mad, only he makes you sane.
You are MALKAVIAN.
I) Jack’s Warren is to be rebuilt, as a smokescreen, a first defensive position from which your kind can scurry back to your real warrens. As your compatriots hollow out the tunnels, acting out the old sacred rituals to consecrate your new home, your primogen is attempting to ingratiate himself with the Camarilla nobility in order to win funds and acquire new surveillance equipment – and some among you begin to fear the lengths he will go to in order to get the cash he needs. Although you have been forbidden from stealing anything that will be missed from the world above, you and a couple of compatriots are now seriously considering a night-time raid on the skyscrapers of the kine…
You are NOSFERATU.
J) You were the one, right. You said to blow up the rivers and flush them Nossies out. Do you regret it? Fuck, no. They ain’t your brethren any more than they’re some other cunt’s. And that’s why you deserved to be made ductus. You’re a soldier, you understand that – but what you want is a chance to be a fucking soldier again. Camarilla dogs need to be got at. Some necks need to be snapped. And instead the bosses whisper in the shadows about rebuilding strength, biding your time…but what’s the point of planning for peace when there’s bastards trying to kill you right on the other side of the river?
You are NOSFERATU ANTITRIBU.
K) You have wormed your way into this city slowly; secret meetings at the Reptile House, late at night at the Zoo, making a few choice contacts. Your product is now entering the city at a steady rate, through the usual routes. It’s quickly being seized upon by the homeless population of thin-bloods, caitiffs and weaklings, too starved and too puny to feed directly – it’s even begun to find popularity amongst some of the more fashionable Toreador, who disdain the brutish idea of attacking Kine in order to dine. All’s as it should be. As they say, you corrupt a man by giving him what he wants.
You are SETITE.
L) Your club Whiplash is still doing respectable business amongst the Kine – but Kindred are abandoning your club in droves. You blame the nearby presence of the Pleasure ‘N’ Pain, which has become the de facto haven for Camarilla meetings – and quietly, trying not to overstep the limits, you attempt to undermine them at every turn, hoping to buy up their famous Harpy Gwendolen Rickless, even dabbling in an intriguing hallucinatory variety of blood that’s doing the rounds. Perhaps, however, the truth is that, as even the most conservative Kindred embrace the new technology, Harpies are becoming less and less relevant as a source of information…
You are TOREADOR.
M) If you want to defect, begin by investigating Samantha Eames. That was what Dubrik said. But how are you supposed to climb the ladder in an organisation that’s entirely stagnant? Still, you’ve taken some risks – and you’re beginning to suspect that Eames is up to something big. There’s something in the ruins, you believe, below the Greenwich chantry. Sometimes, in a fit of panic, you imagine that it could even be one of the antediluvians themselves. But Dubrik keeps pushing for more evidence, and your curious behaviour has begun to alienate your Camarilla ‘peers’. The closer you get, the more you become certain that you’re going to be found out.
You are TREMERE (ANTITRIBU).
N) Ostensibly, you have been sent with a letter of accreditation from the Cardinal in Cape Town, to contact his counterpart in London and offer your services as an extremely swift, cold-blooded and adept assassin to the beleaguered organisation. And, indeed, that is part of your function – the Assamite tricksters are perfectly skilled, of course, but they lack your very specific set of talents. Besides, your higher purpose – your true mission, as assigned to you by your master in the True Black Hand – is to remain a secret, at least for the moment.
You are TRUE BRUJAH.
O) You’ve done sterling work organising the Sabbat efforts in Birmingham; and now, it seems, the Cardinal himself has asked that you should be made full Archbishop in the capital, in charge of regrouping the organisation in the face of relentless Camarilla attacks. And so your coffin, containing its vital pinch of earth from your homeland, is to be shipped down to London in a private train, accompanied by your family of ghoul retainers, your loyal Paladin, and your various flesh-crafting experiments. You will have, you imagine, nearly full reign…but the Cardinal’s eye will be forever on you, and you must not fail.
You are TZIMISCE.
P) Sometimes you feel a little like Sisyphus; condemned to roll a boulder forever uphill, only to lose your grip on it at every step. Your so-called allies amongst the barons seek constant favours from you, cover-ups and manipulations within the Kine government…and the rest of the Camarilla nobility shun you and try to trip you up at every turn. Your power is, at least, consolidated – Fellowes now runs a team of bodyguards and spies, and you’ve never been wealthier, and yet you remain uneasy, both about Samantha Eames’ dealings with the creature known as Hob, and the sense of rising unrest in the city as the summer grows ever hotter…
You are VENTRUE. You are ANTHONY SOMMERS.
Added possibilities:
Q) You are SAMANTHA EAMES.
R) You are EDGAR FELLOWES.