You Will Know My Name (Vampire: the Requiem)

You are Minerva Wolfe, whom a handful of people refer to as "the Gloom," sometimes jokingly, sometimes fearfully. A rare few friends have called you "Minnie," to your great irritation; to most people you are just "Wolfe." That's pronounced 'Volf,' by the way: you were German once, and you don't appreciate the wolf puns. This is because you are a Gangrel, one of the Savage; yours is the fury of the Beast, the power of the wild. Every night since the moment of your death, you have felt its call, at times howling, at times whispering. It is your friend and your nemesis, responsible for your greatest triumphs and your most abject failures. Even now it rakes its claws around your braincage, its hunger flooding you, making it hard to think.

But think you must. You slap yourself on the temple, as if the Beast was a dog you could quiet with a tap. Somehow, it works. The hunger recedes. You can think more clearly. You take off your ruined, bloodstained sweater and squeeze the water out of it as best as you can, but it's mostly pointless; you don't even try with your waterlogged jeans. You shake the water out of your long black hair like a dog. You hate that hair, always getting in the way; you used to cut it every night and yet it grew back by morning, so now you only do so when you want to be on your best. You put you sweater back on, but it doesn't improve your looks any: you really need to do something about those highly visible bullet wounds.

More memories flash back to you. You look at your body, your pale bruised skin, and you feel the Vitae lazily crawling through your veins. You call it to you, tap into its power. The hunger surges again, stronger than ever - you grit your teeth and let it wash over you and recede, like the tide. When it fades again, you feel your body like never before.

You spend the next five minutes coughing up all the water out of your inactive digestive system, somewhat tarnishing this moment of epiphany.

***​

Now comes the meaty part. Hopefully I'm not losing you all yet.

You have three Attributes: Physical, Mental and Social. Rank them from most to least important.

You have three Approaches: Power, Finesse and Resistance. Rank them from most to least important.

All actions combine an Attribute and an Approach. If you're trying to punch someone in the face, it's a Physical Power action; ignore someone's obvious taunt to focus on your goal, that's Social Resistance; spot the concealed weapon on your guest, that's Mental Finesse.

You have three Disciplines: Protean, Animalism and Resilience. Rank them from most to least important.
Protean is shapeshifting, the ability to mold your own body. It will allow you to meld within the soil to rest safely during the day, to grow claws and wings and turn into animals.
Animalism is the ability to speak to and command animals, creating vampiric familiars, swarms of vermin, and pushing on the base instincts of human beings.
Resilience is supernatural toughness, the ability to endure damage. It does not actually make your flesh harder, but allows you to keep functioning despite wounds that would kill anyone else.


On top of that, you have one Asset of your choice:
[ ]You have learned the ways of another physical disciplines outside your clan's own: you have an investment in Vigor (supernatural strength) or Celerity (supernatural speed) equal to a "least important" Discipline choice.
[ ]You have learned the ways of a vampiric fighting style. When in the state of semi-controlled frenzy known as "riding the wave," the fusion of Man and Beast grants you benefits that each side cannot obtain alone.
[ ]You have honed your senses to preternatural acuity. You can smell a man's breakfast on his breath and hear a pin drop in the other room, to say nothing of what you can see.
[ ]Your Vitae is especially potent. You may hold more blood in your body at a time and spend it faster - a double-edged sword to be sure. You are also mildly more resistant to other supernatural powers. Drawback: the sun's burn is harsher to you.
[ ]You know how to create the Terrible Claws, a unique Gangrel gift - claws which tear through any armor and inflict damage even vampiric powers cannot heal without weeks of rest. Requires Protean ranked 1st in your Disciplines.

(most of these assets are combat-related due to the nature of Gangrel powers.)

Hunger level: STARVING. The ranking goes: (Full) > Peckish > Hungry > Starving > Starved. Peckish is your default level when 'filled up,' as the hunger never leaves you; "Full" is a level only attained briefly, when you have just gorged yourself on so much blood that your body hasn't processed it all yet. At "Starved," you will fall into torpor if you cannot find blood by dawn.

Wound level: INJURED. The ranking goes Healthy > Cosmetic Damage > Bruised > Injured > Maimed > Incapacitated. At "maimed," all your actions suffer wound penalties. Resilience gives you more Bruised levels, among other benefits.

Tags:
Bullet in the head
Walking freakshow
Short-term amnesia
 
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[X]You have learned the ways of a vampiric fighting style. When in the state of semi-controlled frenzy known as "riding the wave," the fusion of Manand Beast grants you benefits that each side cannot obtain alone.
 
[X] 1 - Physical
[X] 2 - Mental
[X] 3 - Social

[X] 1 - Resistance
[X] 2 - Power
[X] 3 - Finesse

[X] Brawl
[X] Stealth
[X] Athletics
[X] Animal Ken

[X] 1 - Protean
[X] 2 - Resilience
[X] 3 - Animalism

[X]You know how to create the Terrible Claws, a unique Gangrel gift - claws which tear through any armor and inflict damage even vampiric powers cannot heal without weeks of rest. Requires Protean ranked 1st in your Disciplines.
 
Now comes the meaty part. Hopefully I'm not losing you all yet.

You have three Attributes: Physical, Mental and Social. Rank them from most to least important.

Physical, Mental, Social

You have three Approaches: Power, Finesse and Resistance. Rank them from most to least important.

Power, Resistance, Finesse.

You have three Disciplines: Protean, Animalism and Resilience. Rank them from most to least important.
Protean is shapeshifting, the ability to mold your own body. It will allow you to meld within the soil to rest safely during the day, to grow claws and wings and turn into animals.
Animalism is the ability to speak to and command animals, creating vampiric familiars, swarms of undead, and pushing on the base instincts of human beings.
Resilience is supernatural toughness, the ability to endure damage. It does not actually make your flesh harder, but allows you to keep functioning despite wounds that would kill anyone else.

Resilience, Protean, Animalism

She's more of an animal than most vampires, might as well own it and play to her strengths.

On top of that, you have one Asset of your choice:
[ ]You have learned the ways of another physical disciplines outside your clan's own: you have an investment in Vigor (supernatural strength) or Celerity (supernatural speed) equal to a "least important" Discipline choice.
[ ]You have learned the ways of a vampiric fighting style. When in the state of semi-controlled frenzy known as "riding the wave," the fusion of Man and Beast grants you benefits that each side cannot obtain alone.
[ ]You have honed your senses to preternatural acuity. You can smell a man's breakfast on his breath and hear a pin drop in the other room, to say nothing of what you can see.
[ ]Your Vitae is especially potent. You may hold more blood in your body at a time and spend it faster - a double-edged sword to be sure. You are also mildly more resistant to other supernatural powers. Drawback: the sun's burn is harsher to you.
[ ]You know how to create the Terrible Claws, a unique Gangrel gift - claws which tear through any armor and inflict damage even vampiric powers cannot heal without weeks of rest. Requires Protean ranked 1st in your Disciplines.

(most of these assets are combat-related due to the nature of Gangrel powers.)

If playing Bloodlines has taught me anything it's never to underestimate the handiness of Celerity.

Especially as a Gangrel character. :V
 
I ended up editting the "skills" part out for simplicity. I'll run this on Attribute+Approach for now and see if I can introduce skills in a "soft" fashion later on.
 
You close your eyes and indulge yourself in a moment of physicality. Of enjoyment of… yourself. Under every inch of your skin are hard, wiry muscles. As the wind blows against your wet clothes you can feel each of your many scars. You are a steel bar in the shape of a woman, a marble statue painted in the colors of flesh. Five feet two of unbending strength. You've taken so many blows and still you stand - Undying. Relentless. Whoever thought putting a bullet in your head and dropping you in the river obviously had never met you before.

Some people underestimate you, think of you as dull, dim-witted. That's mistaking the outside for the inside - you're gruff, antipathetic at times. When you don't like someone, you don't put on pretenses. Or you try, and are bad at it. But inside, your mind churns at its own rhythm. Your resolve has kept your Beast shackled for decades, and your insights are at times brilliant - you just have trouble seeing your way around a problem, instead always thinking of how to beat it up front.

You remember running in the Black Forest as your namesake, the grass beneath your paws, the wind in your open mouth, the thrill of the hunt, your hounds on your trail. The hounds are gone now. You remember standing up to the Red-Handed Saint with one arm torn off, still smiling, and the look in his eyes when he knew he was going to die. Everyone has forgotten the Red-Handed Saint now. You feel at your fingertips the claws pushing on your skin, begging to be released, to rend flesh and wood and stone and steel. You feel the blood of beasts running in your vein.

You remember your familiar forms - the raven, to scout and spy from above. The rat, to enter in the dark places where men cannot pass. The wolf, to hunt down your prey for all night long. And you remember something more - the monster you are building in your soul, a thing of leathery skin and jutting fangs.

You had something here. You had built so much - by your standards, anyway. The princes in their ivory tower might have scoffed at your achievements, but to you they were more than you'd ever had before. And you… lost it all? On this night, before the bullet entered your brain, so much escaped your grasp, so much was burned to the ground.

But not all… No, not all.


Outside this park, in the City, there are people waiting for you. Oaths have been sworn. Alliances will be upheld. You were never a member of the inner circle, one of the elite - something always kept you on the outside. But you know you belonged to something.


And that something was…

***​

Choose a Covenant:


[ ]The Carthian Movement are the idealists and the radicals of the Kindred. After what they see as centuries of stagnation, the Revolution wants to force vampiric society to evolve and adapt to changing times. In every city they gather to spread new, beautiful ideas, and talk excidently about the terrible application. They will bring democracy to the dead - and those who stand in the way will kiss the sun.

[ ]The Circle of the Crones are witches and cultists of the Beast, the syncretism of centuries of pagan faiths chaotically united in the face of a monotheistic oppression. The Mother's Army worships a goddess of three aspects and revels in the flowing of blood and the power of their bestial natures; the secret of blood sorcery are whispered in their covens.

[ ]The Invictus are the establishment, the enforcers of the Masquerade. The Conspiracy of Silence holds the keys to the mortal world, sitting at every conference table, haunting every office, sucking the flows of the world's wealth like bloated fleas.They see themselves as the guardians of vampiric society, and thus deserving of being its masters; others disagree, and will be brought to heel.

[ ]The Lancea et Sanctum is the church of all Kindred. The Sanctified are a dark reflection of mortal beliefs, god's monsters who demand the worship of a foreboding God, who damned them so that they would keep mankind on a righteous path through terror and punishment. They are the keepers of the old ways, and the origins of their blood miracles are lost to time.

[ ]The Ordo Dracul are the seekers of a new path. The Defiant challenge their curse by seeking not a way out, but a way beyond, learning to transform their vampiric nature and alter their banes, their weaknesses, their powers. Their approach purports to be scientific, but they have the mad glee of a Victorian gentleman-scholar groping his way blindly to knowledge. Somehow it works.
 
[X] The Invictus are the establishment, the enforcers of the Masquerade. The Conspiracy of Silence holds the keys to the mortal world, sitting at every conference table, haunting every office, sucking the flows of the world's wealth like bloated fleas.They see themselves as the guardians of vampiric society, and thus deserving of being its masters; others disagree, and will be brought to heel.
 
[X]The Ordo Dracul are the seekers of a new path. The Defiant challenge their curse by seeking not a way out, but a way beyond, learning to transform their vampiric nature and alter their banes, their weaknesses, their powers. Their approach purports to be scientific, but they have the mad glee of a Victorian gentleman-scholar groping his way blindly to knowledge. Somehow it works.
 
[X]The Carthian Movement are the idealists and the radicals of the Kindred. After what they see as centuries of stagnation, the Revolution wants to force vampiric society to evolve and adapt to changing times. In every city they gather to spread new, beautiful ideas, and talk excitedly about the terrible application. They will bring democracy to the dead - and those who stand in the way will kiss the sun.
 
[X]The Ordo Dracul are the seekers of a new path. The Defiant challenge their curse by seeking not a way out, but a way beyond, learning to transform their vampiric nature and alter their banes, their weaknesses, their powers. Their approach purports to be scientific, but they have the mad glee of a Victorian gentleman-scholar groping his way blindly to knowledge. Somehow it works.
 
On what they do, IIRC:

[ ]The Carthian Movement are the idealists and the radicals of the Kindred. After what they see as centuries of stagnation, the Revolution wants to force vampiric society to evolve and adapt to changing times. In every city they gather to spread new, beautiful ideas, and talk excidently about the terrible application. They will bring democracy to the dead - and those who stand in the way will kiss the sun.

Highly political and fighty.
We're good at fighty. Not so political.

[ ]The Circle of the Crones are witches and cultists of the Beast, the syncretism of centuries of pagan faiths chaotically united in the face of a monotheistic oppression. The Mother's Army worships a goddess of three aspects and revels in the flowing of blood and the power of their bestial natures; the secret of blood sorcery are whispered in their covens.

Well, it's magic and we have the specs for it(female, vampire, not stupid). Somewhat blood intensive though, but very versatile.

[ ]The Invictus are the establishment, the enforcers of the Masquerade. The Conspiracy of Silence holds the keys to the mortal world, sitting at every conference table, haunting every office, sucking the flows of the world's wealth like bloated fleas.They see themselves as the guardians of vampiric society, and thus deserving of being its masters; others disagree, and will be brought to heel.

Politics. And politics. And politics.

[ ]The Lancea et Sanctum is the church of all Kindred. The Sanctified are a dark reflection of mortal beliefs, god's monsters who demand the worship of a foreboding God, who damned them so that they would keep mankind on a righteous path through terror and punishment. They are the keepers of the old ways, and the origins of their blood miracles are lost to time.

Vampire templars.
Killy a plus.

[ ]The Ordo Dracul are the seekers of a new path. The Defiant challenge their curse by seeking not a way out, but a way beyond, learning to transform their vampiric nature and alter their banes, their weaknesses, their powers. Their approach purports to be scientific, but they have the mad glee of a Victorian gentleman-scholar groping his way blindly to knowledge. Somehow it works.

Vampires who managed to screw with vampire weaknesses. And it works.
 
[X]The Lancea et Sanctum is the church of all Kindred. The Sanctified are a dark reflection of mortal beliefs, god's monsters who demand the worship of a foreboding God, who damned them so that they would keep mankind on a righteous path through terror and punishment. They are the keepers of the old ways, and the origins of their blood miracles are lost to time.

I love the idea of Vampire templars.
 
[X]The Ordo Dracul are the seekers of a new path. The Defiant challenge their curse by seeking not a way out, but a way beyond, learning to transform their vampiric nature and alter their banes, their weaknesses, their powers. Their approach purports to be scientific, but they have the mad glee of a Victorian gentleman-scholar groping his way blindly to knowledge. Somehow it works.
 
[X]The Ordo Dracul are the seekers of a new path. The Defiant challenge their curse by seeking not a way out, but a way beyond, learning to transform their vampiric nature and alter their banes, their weaknesses, their powers. Their approach purports to be scientific, but they have the mad glee of a Victorian gentleman-scholar groping his way blindly to knowledge. Somehow it works.

Mad vampire scientists? Sold.
 
[X]The Ordo Dracul are the seekers of a new path. The Defiant challenge their curse by seeking not a way out, but a way beyond, learning to transform their vampiric nature and alter their banes, their weaknesses, their powers. Their approach purports to be scientific, but they have the mad glee of a Victorian gentleman-scholar groping his way blindly to knowledge. Somehow it works.
 
You are a Dragon, one of the chosen elites who decided not to be content with their accursed, half-dead existence, Intiate into the Mystery of the Wyrm. Long ago, you grappled with the Beast within you, and did terrible things at its urging; but where some would cower and cry and their crimes and others yet resign themselves to monstrosity, pride drove you to make yourself the master of your fate. You chained yourself to a wall, spending entire nights frenzying until the Beast exhausted its fury; you branded your own skin with white-hot irons to force it to submit; you sewed your own mouth shuts and starved yourself for nights on end. You worked in a blood donation center, and every time the hunger compelled you to steal you carved a new scar in you. You have very few of these scars. Then, when the time was right, you learned to unleash the monster at your whim, a leash firmly set on its neck.

The Ordo Dracul of your city has long been in a median position. You were spared in the Purge of '09, during which the Queen of Hornets and her clique wiped out half of the Invictus and Sanctified in the city and pushed the others to the edges; but you were never granted the same favor as the Circle of the Crone and the Carthian Movement, who filled the power vacuum and have been maintaining a shaky alliance ever since. The new establishment looks at your Covenant with a mix of indifference and suspicion - weirdo scientists who are left alone as long as they don't overstep their bonds. It suits most of your fellow Dragons just fine, but not you. You are tired of mediocrity. In the past years you have done much to expand your own power base - you have acquired a beautiful, secure haven. You have had a childe who followed your teaching. You had a ghoul servant devoted to you with their life. You had a mentor, watching your progress with wary admiration. You had allies, contacts, influence.

Then someone decided that this was too much. In one night it all came crashing down - your haven was burned down. Your allies were killed. Your closest ones… You're not sure. Memories of the events are blurry, to the point that you can't clearly remember who was responsible. Your last memory is one of frenzy, of being shot faster than you could heal, and that final fatal bullet to the head… But it's all dark, blurry. You don't know who did this. But you do know one thing.

You will have vengeance. And then you will take back all you've lost and more besides.

For the moment, your main concerns are practical. You are wounded and hungry. That bullet in still making it hard to think, but digging it would injure you even more. You need to feed.

You look at your surroundings. You're in the Park - an expanse of greenery northwest of the city, full of pines and thick green grass, where flows the River that cuts the City in half. You know that if you walk a hundred yards or two, you'll find the streets and the busy nightlife of the City. But you'll be a dreadful sight.

Make three choices:

[ ]Dig the bullet out of your head. Your wound track will move to "Maimed."
[ ]Leave it where it is for the time being. This will prevent your full regeneration and memory recovery.

[ ]Spend Vitae to heal your surface wounds. This will move your injury track to "Bruised" (or keep it at "Injured" if you dig out the bullet), but will move your Hunger track to "Starved."
[ ]Don't spend Vitae. You will stay as you are, with the drawback that any mortal who takes a close look at you will freak out.

[ ]Focus on getting back to safety, looking for allies that survived the attack against you and who could provide assistance and shelter.
[ ]Focus on replenishing your blood supply by hunting for nighttime walkers in the Park.
[ ]Focus on replenishing your blood supply by going back into the City to hunt.
 
[X]Dig the bullet out of your head. Your wound track will move to "Maimed."

[X]Spend Vitae to heal your surface wounds. This will move your injury track to "Bruised" (or keep it at "Injured" if you dig out the bullet), but will move your Hunger track to "Starved."

[X]Focus on replenishing your blood supply by hunting for nighttime walkers in the Park.
 
[X]Dig the bullet out of your head. Your wound track will move to "Maimed."

[X]Spend Vitae to heal your surface wounds. This will move your injury track to "Bruised" (or keep it at "Injured" if you dig out the bullet), but will move your Hunger track to "Starved."

[X]Focus on replenishing your blood supply by hunting for nighttime walkers in the Park.
 
There's no two ways about it. You have a problem that needs solving now. This rattling and flaring pain is killing you. You grit your teeth and use your left hand to maintain your head steady, and with your right hand you dig into the hole in your skull. The pain… It passes words. But you've known words. You keep at it. You cringe, refrain from screaming. You try not to think about the soft substance your fingers pass through. Bits of bone crack and shatter as you dig.

Eventually, moments before the agony makes you collapse, you pull out your fingers, holding a small shape of twisted metal. All this for that. You toss it on the ground, feeling dizzy. You can't go on like this: you're gonna have to tap whatever little reserves of Vitae you have. You focus and bring your blood to life - cracks in your bones mend, blood vessels knit themselves back together. Brain matter grows back. You try very hard not to scream, and somehow succeed again.

Then you run out of Vitae. Your body is… empty. Your every artery burns with want. Your stomach twists upon itself. You must feed now, or you will fall back into sleep.


You breathe in the night air, filling your empty lungs with the smells of the Park. You close your eye for a moment, focusing on the sounds of life around you - wind in the branches, water lapping lazily against the banks, small critters scurrying in the grass. Once, you could feed on the blood of beasts, but no more. You don't miss it much; it was convenient, but disgusting. The blood of man is the most potent drunk there could be.

You hear the beating of hearts in the distance. This sound is like a drumming song to you - you could hear it over anything else, you can hear it beyond the range of your normal hearing, just as you can smell blood farther than you can smell anything else. These are the senses of the hunter. You move quickly, stepping off the riverbank to join the beaten way that winds throughout the park. The drums call to you from nearby, louder than you'd expect - but as you approach you realize that the beating hearts are those of a group of teenagers, half a dozen at least. They're sitting by the riverbank, laughing and drinking making crude jokes. Most are drunk. In your state, it'd be too dangerous to approach them. You move further, leaving the drums behind.

Before you hear another heartbeat, however, you smell it. The blood. Not even that far from the teenagers, but you've entered the cover of trees, the path bends, there are no streetlights - it might as well be a world away. Someone could die there and they'd never know. Someone is dying there. You press on and take the corner.

"Oh god please no… I didn't… She reached for… Thought it was a gun… I don't know what to do… I can't…"

It's in a crook in the corner - a place where the beaten way descends between two big banks of earth, and a pretty wooden bridge connects both sides above the path. There, in the shadow of this small bridge, back pressed against the bank, is a woman in her fifties, hair blond and grey. Her eyes are closed, though she is still breathing, and the scent of blood coming from her is overpowering, drawing your attention to the wound in her chest, against which her hand is pressed tightly. At one side of her is a discarded purse; at the other is a pepper mace, fallen just outside the grasp of her other hand, which hangs limply.

A young man, pale and gaunt, a bonnet over his sandy hair, is crouching next to her, frantically sifting through what looks to be a wallet. As you step around the corner, he raises his head, looking at you with an air of sheer terror, and drops the wallet - only to pick up a knife that was lying on the ground next to him.

"I didn't w-w-want to," he stammers; "she m-m-made me… Look, just g-go away. I don't want no trouble. Call 911, I don't c-care. Just leave me alone," he says, and yet he raises his knife - blood dripping all along the blade - as if in threat.

There is blood everywhere. If you don't feed in the next minute, you'll snap.


Make two choices.

[ ]Take out the young man, drain him to death. He's some kind of mugger, and nobody will miss him; and you have all the props at hand to stage a mugging go wrong, so it's Masquerade-friendly. (Physical Power)
[ ]Take down the young man, drain him to unconsciousness. You're not into killing when it's not necessary, but you do seize a good opportunity when there's one. The narcotic effects of your Kiss will make it so he doesn't remember being bitten. (Physical Power)
[ ]Shoo him away. Ordinarily he'd be no threat to you, but you have no blood to enhance your physical might, and a fight is too much of a risk. The woman will be enough. (No roll.)


[ ]Drain the bleeding woman to death. She's already most of the way gone, anyway. (No roll.)
[ ]See if the woman can be saved; attempt to stabilize her if so. Possibly call emergencies. Lap the blood spilled on her green dress. (Mental Power)

Alternative to the above two choices:
[ ]Write-in.


Later on, I may make you roll, once I've figured out the right system to determine how to pick from player rolls. For now, I will roll, and I won't explain how the rolling works precisely just yet.

Health level: INJURED
Hunger level: STARVED

Tags:
Freakshow
Short-term amnesia (fading)
 
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