Your name is Dustin Bright. Ever since your father started having chronic back pain, you've had to work fourteen hour shifts at the factory to support your family. One night, you return home to find them all chopped to pieces.
—
Your arms are on the brink of falling off after dragging the bloody pieces out for the Sweepers to collect. You try not to think very hard about which pieces belong to which relatives. You could never afford a proper burial. After you're done, you collapse on the couch and sit there, just staring blankly into space. You don't go to work the next day.
—
Paint.

You paint.

Again and again. The scene of that night. It is all you can do. Every time you pick up a brush, the scene enters your mind. Again and again.

One day, a man arrives. He wears a peculiar white suit, and he stares at the mess that is your house, stained with canvases that are hurled aside in a rush, depicting flashes of red hooks and black masks, tearing into the bodies of your family.

He offers you a place somewhere. A place where one can thrive on art and art alone. A place where you can be you again.

You accept without a second thought.

—
Living as a Ring member is.. Difficult.

The assignments are eccentric, and the company is obnoxious and off putting,but life could be worse. There's this tightening void at the edge of your mind that doesn't get any better, but you ignore it and don't pay it any mind. Just like how you ignore the way you come home to an empty apartment every day.

—
"Dustin." Your Docent calls out after everyone else has filed out the door. You raise an eyebrow with confusion, and promptly approach her. "Yes.. ma'am? Is there anything I can do for you?" You ask her timidly. She nods. "I need you to do me a favor." She says. Great. What sort of favor does she need you to do? You've learned to fear the tastes of your superiors a long time ago.

It turns out that she simply wants you to investigate a syndicate that's been making snuff films in Ring Territory without approval. You're scared, but you accept the assignment, figuring out that it might get you in her good graces.

So here you were.
—
You stand in front of the abandoned warehouse, ready to bust it open. Quietly, you steel your nerves, trying to calm down your beating heart. You weren't the most intimidating figure.. so you don't know why she chose you for this. Was it because you were easy to push around? You're not exactly known for your.. bravery or anything like that, and you're well aware of the fact.

You're just about to break down the door when it opens on its own, and you enter inside cautiously..

The interior of the warehouse is damp and musty, and you frown at the rotten stench. No doubt the aftermath of whatever grisly nonsense they've gotten up to now.

You fumble around the wall for a lightswitch, and click it.

The lights turn on. What greets you is an abattoir. You are no stranger to gore, but the sight that lies beyond is too much even for you. The Scene Office Members are all dead, bodies brutalized and mangled into shapes so ghastly that you had no descriptions for them. You feel vomit well up in your throat, rancid and burning hot.

You begin frantically looking around, unsure to look for clues or to run away from this place as fast as possible.

And that was when the singing began.

"A poor wayfaring man of grief.." The hymn began, the singer's voice lilting and melodious. "Hath often crossed me on my way." A figure begins approaching you from the darkness. Enshrouded by the dim lighting of the warehouse.

The figure descends from the darkness. He wears an outfit resembling a priest, twisted with religious iconography that you have never seen before. Long tresses of white hair fall from behind his head like a halo, and what little skin you can see on his face is deathly pale, the rest is covered with an odd white mask.

He looks beautiful. Like an angel.

"Who sued so humbly for relief.. That I could never answer nay. I had no pow'r to ask his name.." The hymn continued, and that was when you found your voice again. "W-Who are you?"

"Whereto he went.. or whence he came.. yet there was something in his eye.." The man does not respond, merely continuing his hymn. You ask again: "What do you want…?" The singing stopped.

A whisper drifts out of the darkness. "That won my love.. I knew not why." And with a single animalistic motion, he was on you immediately. He wrenched your spear aside from your grip and tackled you to the floor like a feral animal.

You do your best to shove him aside, but then he opens his mouth, revealing a mouth full of sharp fangs like those of a shark. Seeing that, your struggles become even more violent, more frantic. Yet it is for naught.

He pins your arms to the ground, and bites.

It hurts. The side of your neck erupts in fiery hot pain, and you can feel him drink your blood, as you realize in dim horror. He drinks and drinks, stopping only when your fingers come limp. Your vision is blurry, but you can see him licking his lips. All at once, you feel yourself begin to change. A burning sensation spreads from the wound, red hot and searing. You try to scream, but all that leaves your throat is a sharp wheeze.

You dimly feel him cradle your head in his lap as one might do to a child, and then you black out.

---

Stat Creation!
All of Dustin's traits have remained the same, since you guys voted for it to be that way! But there is one difference: Stats.

Fortitude: Used for physical strength and combat. Tasks that require brute force like breaking down doors in order to get to prey or generally punching something hard enough require Fortitude.

Prudence: Useful for keeping yourself sane and composed. Tasks like resisting the thirst, preventing yourself from attacking someone, and dealing with rude, rude guests all use Prudence.

Temperance: Used to connect with each other emotionally, and generally stay in touch with your own emotions. Tasks like empathizing with someone, understanding their perspective, and connecting with them all use Temperance.

Justice: Justice represents straightness. Straightness of mind, straightness of body. It represents the ability to remain undaunted despite what life throws at you.

Plan Example:
Fortitude: Favored
Prudence: Good
Temperance: Good
Justice: Disfavored.

Dustin Bright

Dustin Bright ​

A student of the Ring, a Child of the Backstreets, and part time vampiric serial killer.

Fortitude: Level II (Your nature as a Bloodfiend has granted you a degree of superhuman strength, capable of breaking bones and clashing with Fixers. But your combat experience leaves a lot to be desired, and your strength is surprisingly lacking for a Second Kindred.

Prudence: Level V (You keep a relatively cool head under fire and are able of projecting a facade of composure and stoicness. You also possess a very strong will for one so broken.)

Temperance: Level IV (You are also generally in touch with your own emotions, and are attuned enough that naming them is generally not difficult for you. You still struggle with them sometimes, however.)

Justice: Level IV (You are able to remain undaunted despite what life throws at you, with a few exceptions of course. You're currently drifting through life without a meaning, but when you find a purpose, you'll get it no matter what.)

Traits:
-Student of the Ring: Thrives on art and art alone. But what do you dream of?

-Child of the Backstreets: Struggle and live in the muck.

-Bloodfiend: A creature of the night. Must feed periodically to maintain your form.

-Second Kindred: The blood runs thick.

OBSERVATION-Bloodfiends

Palpitating: A trait usually found in Distortions. Bloodfiends do not age, possess practically superhuman capabilities rivaling even the most modified fixers, and need not worry about things like diseases or abilities that rely on biology to function.

The Bloodstream: Bloodfiends get weaker the further down the Bloodstream they go. The First Kindred, those who have been turned by the Progenitor are almost invincible in their power, but the blood gets more and more diluted with each generation, and as such each generation is weaker the lower they go.

Hemokinesis: Bloodfiends possess immense control over blood. They are capable of hardening and crystallizing it into weapons and armor in order to fight, and the First Kindred have been known to create entire structures out of blood and perform other outstanding feats.

Fear of Water: Bloodfiends possess an absolutely crippling phobia of water, and will act out in extreme fear and panic, as if they are being tortured, when faced with even the slightest drop. However, Bloodfiends of a high enough generation have been known to overcome this phobia.

Fear of the Sun: Bloodfiends are terrified of the sun. Not because they will disintegrate like some fairy tale monster, but also because their bodies will be dried up and cause their thirst to intensify under the light.

Emotional Sustenance: Truth be told, Bloodfiends do not require a large amount of blood to subsist. They only require a minuscule amount to maintain their forms. However, the blood is their reason to live. It is the reason their heart beats. Without it, they will starve and wither, keeping them in an agonizing state of thirst while still being alive.