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Cool beans. Just to clarify: I am cool with using the translation guide to purchase 1 wierd discipline if someone wants necromancy or flesh crafting or something. I'll go into that more when I'm not phone posting.
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Sep 27, 2014 12:20
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Soonmot posted:Cool beans. Hnnng. Must resist urge to vicissitude.
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Sep 27, 2014 12:24
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Loomer posted:Hnnng. Must resist urge to vicissitude. Some of them ned to be reworked for 2nd edition, but yeah.
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Sep 27, 2014 12:54
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Super brief teaser paragraph, that should get across the basics of my concept:quote:I was born a slave. I died a slave. For a brief moment, I thought I had won my freedom soaked in blood. But I had only traded one set of chains for another. And then I met Captain Shark. Now I am more free than I have ever been before, though the chains of blood still bind me as they do all of the damned. But with enough study, I can break even those. The name of the game is Coil of the Wyrm. Jump on ship and super-frenzy until every hostile combatant is dead.
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Sep 27, 2014 16:39
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GoatLord posted:The name of the game is Coil of the Wyrm. Jump on ship and super-frenzy until every hostile combatant is dead. That I can see being quite funny. I'm actually been tempted by the thought of also picking up Thamaturgy - Path of Blood. At least up to 3 dots. Pop the potency boost and then fill the blood pool to max from Sakti Pata 4 dots. Then get our kill on.
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Sep 29, 2014 20:47
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Pietro wandered aimlessly around the Willemstad docks. He looked at the ships, pondering stowing away on one. The ships held his freedom from Johan's tyranny, freedom from his nonsensical Dutch vampire ramblings, and freedom from stroopwafels. He had grown to hate Dutch cuisine during his time in the Caribbean, not that cuisine mattered much to him anymore. Pietro had learned that he couldn't eat food anymore; it was one of the few things he had learned from Johan. He learned that he was now a part of some vampiric lineage called Mekket in Dutch or Mecetus in Latin and that meant he was expected to be a shadowy shut-in manipulator like Johan. Pietro's new goal in life, or unlife as it were, was to be the exact opposite of Johan. First to get off of Curaçao. Pietro gave up on the idea of stowing away. He didn't have the fortitude for it, or the faith in his sneaking skills. Instead he would rely on the Azria clan's greatest traditional skill: bargaining. He made for the flimsy shack that was Willemstad's escola, the center of Ladino Jewish life. He wondered to himself if vampires could be Jews, or if Jews could be vampires, reasoning that the latter was obviously true in his case. At this time of night, the local Sephards were enjoying their evening meal and welcomed Pietro, now shifting back into Israel, once he greeted them in their mother tongue. Reb Moses, the community's temporal leader, a boisterous and rotund butcher from Amsterdam, asked Israel if he ever found the Johan he was looking for. "I did," he answered pleasantly, "We worked through our disagreements, and I look forward to a lucrative business relationship with Messer van der Venne in the future." Israel found it easy to lie, easier than usual, "And I'm afraid I stuffed myself silly over the course of our negotiations so I'm afraid I won't be able to partake of this beautiful feast. No matter how tempting that couscous may be..." That part was only a half lie, as Israel mourned the fact that he'd never enjoy a bowl of Ladino couscous ever again. He was a slim man, but he could put away a bowl of couscous surprisingly fast. "Now I am so very thankful that you helped me locate Johan, but I'm afraid I have another favor to ask. You see," Israel removed his hat, forgetting he didn't have a skullcap underneath, "I concluded my business with Messer van der Venne considerably quicker than expected, and I haven't prepared any transport off the island. I don't suppose you can give me the name of a reliable, Jewish-friendly captain?" "Of course, my friend." Reb Moses answered, warming Israel's literally dead spirits, "Where is it you want to go, exactly?" A question to which he had not prepared an answer, stupidly, "Honestly..." Israel trailed off in thought, "It doesn't matter. I'll set up shop on the next island I come to. I go where God takes me." Good answer! "I'm on good terms with the captain of the Indefatigable," a young man on the north side of the table piped up, "I think they're bound for Port Royal next." Israel opened his mouth sheepishly, "I do have a pair of unique conditions, however," he scratched his head, "I'm rather cash poor at the moment and can't pay for passage. And although I'm a capable sailor and a more than capable navigator, I'm suffering from a rare skin condition at the moment and can't expose myself to the sun." The table fell silent for a moment. "It's not contagious, don't worry. The doctors say it'll clear up in a month or two!" Israel grinned nervously, hoping he sold the story well enough. "I didn't want to say anything about how pale you are, now it all fits." The young man shrugged, "I'll try to explain it to Captain Delaney." "Listen-" "Mordecai" "Mordecai, you're doing God's work. I'm a man in need and I'll repay you and the entire Willemstad escola ten times over!" He felt good about that one, they'd buy that for sure, "When I've settled up with Messer van der Venne, you'll have a full-blown esnoga. Mark my words." Israel suddenly remembered something important, "Oh and introduce me to the good Captain Delaney as Pietro Tremonti. It's my gentile name. Thanks." The next evening, Pietro Tremonti departed Curaçao abroad the Indefatigable as its night navigator. Its nightvigator, with a lumpy bunk in the orlop. Thus began his career reading the stars for tradesmen, until they turned to privateering, and ultimately to piracy.
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Sep 30, 2014 09:16
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A brief overview of the rest of Kveldulf's history, since I haven't found the time to write it up properly yet: - War in Scandinavia against the Sanctified and the Legion over the next three centuries, with Magnusson taking a prominent role as a strategist and Kveldulf's role coming in as the arbiter between Rotgrafen jarls, local Invictus, and stranger things. During this period, the Rotgrafen grow to incredible strength and nearly take control of Scandinavia completely, ignoring the three traditions in favour of a system of belief focused on the creation myth of Loki's gift. This time also sees Kveldulf create the first draft of his now lost (and sought again) 'Blotlaga' - 'Blood-Law', an attempt to create a true legal code for the nascent Rotgrafen night-state, but which never succeeded outside of a few territories. Focused on regulating and preventing the bloody cycles of feuds in Kindred society, the Blotlaga dealt heavily with the treatment of blood-slaves, rights of destruction, and lacked the broad appeal to bring in support from anywhere but a handful of other Rotgrafen. During this time Kveldulf learns Old French and its later transitional state towards middle French. While he can no longer speak it, it gives him a solid basis later on for learning modern french. Likewise, he learns Old English and OHG, which together with the OF aid in learning modern English and German quite a bit. If I had the XP and they were more likely to be useful I'd give him more points in Multilingual so he could actually speak OF, OE, and OHG. As it is I'm going to rejigger it so he knows Latin, as this is the age where most important scholarly works are all in latin first and other languages second still. How to explain it is fairly simple: learned it from captive Bishops. - Torpor from about 1320 to 1550. After Sigrun entered torpor at the dawn of the 14th century, the Rotgrafen proto-state was quickly and mercilessly crushed. In the chaos of Sigrun's disappearance, the most powerful Rotgrafen warlords turned on each other seeking dominance, including most of Sigrun's dozen childer. Kveldulf remained largely outside the fray after the fall of Kalfi, who he backed in his bid to rule. Brokering alliances between the collapsing Jarldoms in a final attempt to capture Magnusson and exact revenge, Kveldulf witnessed the final collapse of the Rotgrafen dream in the climactic 'battle' of Tonsberg - a second conflict fought where the war began, shattering the Rotgrafen and their allies. The work of Magnusson and Thorgeir hid the ruination of the city behind the story of the Brother's War, and much of the damage done by the centuries-long conflict behind the facade of the Borgerkrigstiden and the War of the Outlaws. Embittered by the defeat, Kveldulf sailed with a handful of ghoul retainers to the forgotten settlement of L'Anse aux Meadows, where he promptly ate his retainers and entered a torpor with the intent to sleep away the ages until the arrival of Ragnarok, hidden away in a land all but a handful of his peers had forgotten: Vinland. - Awakening in 1650 - 1670, Kveldulf wandered the island for a brief period before meeting with settlers. Feeding first and asking questions second, he discovered a much changed world - and one where the hidden lands had been 'discovered' a new by Europeans, colonized, and made teeming with industry. Embarking back for Europe, he voraciously devoured every history book he could find, painstakingly studying the much-changed languages of his own time in order to do so. His ability to communicate almost without the slightest difficulty with the Icelanders allowed relative ease in the learning of other tongues; even finding Norwegian and Swedish greatly changed, and English nigh-incomprehensible, Kveldulf's quick mind and knowledge of the language's roots (obtained at no small effort during the Scandinavian war, in order to deal with Invictus and Circle covenants as far south as Italy) allowed him to seize control with relative speed. - Currently, in the end of the 1600s, Kveldulf has come to the Caribbean chasing a rumour that Sigrun is active again and terrorizing the sea. He's also seeking to create a second Blotlaga incorporating the developments of recent centuries, find and exterminate Magnusson - last known to be in America with the lost New Sweden settlement as 'the Swede' - and bring about his dream for the Rotgrafen state: A vampiric althing, a state of laws and individualism preparing itself for the great battle of Ragnarok in the service of Loki. Giving him pause is the nagging knowledge that the history he's read about his home doesn't quite match the remaining memories of it left after the fog of ages has taken its toll, and so he also has a desire to recover as much as he can on that front. Step one, though, is to find Sigrun. The presence of such a surprising number of Rotgrafen and their old enemies in the Caribbean can't be coincidence, surely? He'll find her, he'll return to her side, and he'll convince her to help him in his endeavour to forge a new Rotgrafen sea-kingdom. And then Magnusson will pay. Big goals for an idealist at heart. Deep down he knows it's an impossible dream - the failure of the first Blotlaga to catch on is proof of that to him - but he's still pinning much of his sense of worth and honour to the idea of law. In part, this is because it's one of the few things he still finds relatable. Everything else has changed so dramatically that the relatively conservative field of law soothes some of the tension in him. Sure, he doesn't know what half these places people talk about are, or the finer points of the intricacies of the Holy Roman Empire's electoral system, or anything much about the rise of Protestantism (it's all white christ nonsense to him!), but he can still argue law with the best of them. His handful of books are still there for him - copies of the Gragas, the old Germanic proclamations, even a worn translation into French of the Digest - and he can trace many developments to one or another. They're certainly more reliable than the constantly-tampered with and as-yet non-professional works of 'historians'! And it's just his luck that, in his hunt for Sigrun, he's found himself immersed in another culture of individualist, raiding-oriented, violent, but surprisingly law-bound men. Where else on earth would this unique skillset of settling vampiric feuds by legal arbitration ever be helpful? In the 'civilized' world, they resolve it with brutal killings. Here, where things are so much looser, there might just be a chance at something civilized. And there are those peculiar mutterings of political revolt here and there, the makings of the Carthian movement. Perhaps, in time, there'll grow an engine suitable for him to hitch his wagon to among those first dissenting whispers. Loomer fucked around with this message at 12:54 on Oct 3, 2014 |
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Oct 2, 2014 19:10
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You have an interesting definition of the word "brief."
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Oct 2, 2014 19:47
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When I was sixteen, the door-knockers came to my home on Mindanao. The only girl among my father's nine children, I often hid in the trees and gazed longingly at the water as my family harvested durians below. Surely there was more to life than working slavishly on the land and listening to my father complain about the dowry he would soon be paying to the imam for marrying me to the imam's son. When the kumakatok came to my village, my father boasted to our neighbors that he dared them to come to our home and knock on our door. Not even my elderly grandmother would fall to their curse, because he and his many strong sons would take up swords against them and hang their heads from the rubber tree outside our door. My father was sleeping with his sword by his side when the door-knockers came. I heard them knock once. I looked to my father, but he was fast asleep. I heard them knock twice. I sat up, and I shook my eldest brother's arm, but he did not wake. I heard them knock a third time. I answered. The kumakatok were dressed in hooded robes of white, their faces bloodless and their eyes burning red. The old men wore dour looks, but the woman smiled at me. I remember her face as I do my own mother's: the high cheeks, the half-lidded eyes, the serpent's fangs that she caressed with her tongue as she smiled down at me hungrily. When I woke the next night, I was swaddled in a burial shroud. I rose from where they had placed me at the back of the mosque and went to my family's home. No one answered when I knocked once, twice, three times. So I let myself in. ... I traveled during the night and slept during the day, hiding from the sun in the deep forest, feeding on livestock and those animals slow enough for me to catch. I reached the city unmolested, but the city is not kind to a young girl. The pirates dragged me off of the street as I wandered near the docks, looking for a stray cat or dog or a drunkard upon which to feed. Surely they had many things in mind for me as they dragged me to their ship, kicking and screaming and biting; surely nothing good. But as soon as they let me go, I looked the leader straight in the eye, and he knew that he would be foolish to let his men have at me, or to sell me to the slavers. During the day, I rested in the forest by the cove where they sheltered their ships. At night, I would emerge and learn the ways of the seafarers. The sword - kalis - was familiar to me, for I had seen my father and brothers swing it many times in mock battle. The sword and the empty hand: I took to them with ease. The same men who had preyed upon me learned to fear my blade as well as my bite. Soon I was boarding the galleons of Spanish merchants with the pirates at night, sowing chaos amidst the Spaniards at night as my brothers looted the hold. They commandeered a galleon, and instead of fleeing to the jungle every dawn I slept in the hold in a wooden coffin as they transported goods and slaves throughout the Sulu Sea in the much smaller proas. The Spaniards learned to fear me, the girl they called Sanguijuela. I reveled in the infamy, for despite the beautiful woman's predation, I had fallen to no man. Just like the village imam's ugly son, no man would have me. Not as conquest, not as subordinate, not as victim. It was a woman who fell me. Inexperienced enough to put the stake through my heart but not a sword through my neck, thankfully, but I remember gazing into her iron eyes and smiling. Panicking when she did not fall to my command. Impressed by the fury and determination - and the great, grotesque scar - upon her face. ... I woke in the New World, in the city called Port-au-Prince. From what I could gather based upon my subordination of the fool who woke me, the hunter had brought me here upon her ship in order to sell me to one of the many witch-cults upon the island of Haiti. He had a name for my kind: vampire. He intended to take the heart from my body and sell it to a local witch; he had thought the stake killed me. I was only too happy to show him the error of his ways. The hunter had sold my buyer other items, too. Swords, knives, jewelry and clothing from the pirates with whom I had sailed for so many years. I took the captain's kalis, for I had always admired its beautiful hilt of brass and ivory, and the delicate scrollwork of the blood channels that ran its wavy length. Once I had taken my pick of the weapons and jewelry, I emptied the fool of blood and his purse of coin. The Sanguijuela will have her revenge. ... http://sheetgen.dalines.net/sheet/36906
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Oct 2, 2014 20:07
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GoatLord posted:You have an interesting definition of the word "brief." Well, brief compared to the six pages I wrote for the first part.
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Oct 3, 2014 03:35
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Hmm. I'm not sure if I should drop a point out of sail (or Kindred Dueling, for that matter) in order to have Kveldulf speak and read Latin, or if I should pick it up in the course of play.
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Oct 3, 2014 13:15
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For what it's worth, I award XP like candy.
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Oct 3, 2014 14:52
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Also: I haven't offically begun recruitment, but unless you can out vampire Loomer, Glaucus and Bloodnose, I only have 1 spot left.
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Oct 3, 2014 14:53
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Moving French to Multilingual. With that Kveldulf can speak it, and with his Academic dots he can mostly read French (all but in-depth stuff and/or hilarious contextual misunderstandings). It can be swapped in later, but for now it's taking the space of Norwegian. Why get rid of Norwegian and not Danish? Simple. In this era, the Virgin Islands were controlled by the Danes. Being able to speak Danish not only fits with Kveldulf's history, but it makes sense he'd prioritize learning the changes over those in Norwegian given their importance in the Caribbean. Between the multilingual dots and fluent latin, Kveldulf should be able to communicate with every major power in the region except the Spanish - and even there, a little latin will go a long way with port governors.
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Oct 3, 2014 15:41
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Soonmot posted:Also: I haven't offically begun recruitment, but unless you can out vampire Loomer, Glaucus and Bloodnose, I only have 1 spot left. I was going to ask if writing a novella would be a requirement for recruitment, but this makes it sound like the answer is yes.
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Oct 3, 2014 15:54
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Loomer posted:Moving French to Multilingual. With that Kveldulf can speak it, and with his Academic dots he can mostly read French (all but in-depth stuff and/or hilarious contextual misunderstandings). It can be swapped in later, but for now it's taking the space of Norwegian. Why get rid of Norwegian and not Danish? Norwegian and Danish are mostly mutually intelligible so I'm not sure you need to spend a language on each. I haven't started on numbers on my sheet yet but I'm thinking I won't bother making Ladino and Spanish separate since one is mostly a dialect of the other. Judging by the name of our ship, I guess we'll be speaking English onboard and Spanish would be the most widespread trade language in the Caribbean at the time. Depending on the exact date we go with, there might not even be a Danish West Indies to worry about so I'm not sure you'll get a lot of use out of your Scandinavian skillset.
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Oct 3, 2014 16:03
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GoatLord posted:I was going to ask if writing a novella would be a requirement for recruitment, but this makes it sound like the answer is yes. What I'm looking for is a solid read on your character. If you can do that in a few paragraphs and get across why your dude is #1: Awesome #2 Not building a power base on land and #3) can survive on the sea, then you are good. The more world building you do with your character, the more likely I am to select it because, then, that's some world building *i* don't have to do. EDIT: Alternatly, get to work on a werewolf biker for when Werewolf 2nd ed comes out, since that'll be my next game.
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Oct 3, 2014 16:25
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Bloodnose posted:Norwegian and Danish are mostly mutually intelligible so I'm not sure you need to spend a language on each. I haven't started on numbers on my sheet yet but I'm thinking I won't bother making Ladino and Spanish separate since one is mostly a dialect of the other. Both of these are good points. I'm trying to limit Kveldulf's knowledge of 'modern' languages not descended from those he knew in his active days, though, and the lack of utility is a bit of a consequence of being an old-rear end relic. Still, food for thought.
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Oct 3, 2014 16:44
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You can also consider that your guy has been out of torpor for like at least a century and it doesn't take that long to learn a language. Re: novella writing, I just end up writing a bunch of stuff to develop the character. It's kinda how I sketch. I don't edit or anything after I write it. It's more an exercise for me in trying to figure out how a vampire pirate happens. Because seriously a vampire pirate is like the dumbest thing I've ever heard of and it makes no sense. I'm going to enjoy playing a vampire pirate.
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Oct 3, 2014 16:47
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Bloodnose posted:Because seriously a vampire pirate is like the dumbest thing I've ever heard of and it makes no sense. This is truth! What sort of vampire is going to give up the ease of hunting in a city to sequester themselves on a ship with a limited food supply and no real oppertunity to grow their influence over mortal affairs? loving crazy vampires! That's who! Why are you so crazy?!
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Oct 3, 2014 16:53
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Here's a not-so-brief outline for my character's backstory:
I'll post a preliminary character sheet later, when I'm done with it. INH5 fucked around with this message at 20:15 on Oct 4, 2014 |
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Oct 3, 2014 18:25
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Well, turns out I had a novella in me after all. So here's part one, the story of an embrace. Renee Francoise I was born into chains, on the island called Hispaniola. I will spare you the details of plantation life. Ten years later, my mother bore another daughter, who she called Marguerite. Shortly after that she died from a combination of exhaustion and an infection she caught during childbirth, so I had to care for my sister myself. When she was ten Master sold her to make up for a poor cane harvest. 15 months later I was given death. He was a handsome man with a charming smile and a dark suit; far too nice a suit for someone breaking into a slave cabin in the middle of the night. His skin was pale, but it had color to it that suggested he was mixed race, possibly native. He said he was Phoenician, but I didn't know what that meant at the time. He said he was here to set us free, but only if we weren't afraid to die. I was the only one who stepped forward. When I followed him outside there was another man who seemed to appear out of thin air. He was nearly seven feet tall, and his skin looked like dried meat. “Is this the only one?” he asked the Phoenician. “It's enough, isn't it?” “I suppose, but it will be messier this way.” “It's supposed to be messy. Besides, I like the fire in this one's eyes. I think I'll keep her.” The tall one sighed. “Very well. Shall I prepare her then?” “Well I wouldn't want to hog all the fun for myself.” The tall one grumbled and stepped towards me, a large knife suddenly appearing in his hand. (Or had it always been there?) Before I had a chance to protest he had slit my neck wide open. I remember feeling relief in those last moments before everything went dark; better a quick death than a slow one from fever and the overseer's whip. When I opened my eyes again the shock of waking was overshadowed by a burning, aching hunger, a thirst like I'd just spent a week in the smokehouse. I recognized that I was inside the house, though I'd never been in this room before. There was a large bed, and Master was asleep on it. The two men were there as well, standing over me. The Phoenician motioned to the bed. “Go on, drink up.” Somehow I knew exactly what he meant. When I was finished, with the last of my former owner's blood running down my chin, the Phoenician handed me a knife and told me I had a lot of work to do before I could be free. I didn't hesitate. Master's wife, his children, the overseer, after I satiated myself on their blood I let it drain onto the floor. Nobody could hear me coming, nobody saw me until I tore their throat open. It felt good, like something inside me was cheering me on. When there was nobody left to kill I found the two men in Master's study. The tall one was placing a large stack of papers into a satchel; the Phoenician was standing near the fireplace with a keg of lantern oil. As we left he set the whole house aflame. I don't know what happened to the others back in the cabin; those who had the sense to run probably survived for a few days longer than those who stayed.
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Oct 3, 2014 20:51
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Soonmot posted:EDIT: Alternatly, get to work on a werewolf biker for when Werewolf 2nd ed comes out, since that'll be my next game.  
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Oct 6, 2014 11:03
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Okay, Rules for creation are as follows: XP: +20 Blood Potency: start at 2 dot, cannot buy up with XP. This is free, but justify your power. Covenent: The Brotherhood of the Sea. A covenent in only the loosest sense, the Brotherhood consists of Captian Shark, Black Betty and other vampires like them who have thrown off the safties and intrigues of land for the danger and challenge of the open sea. Unlike other covenents, not all members are kindred. Wizards, lupines, other, stranger things, as well as knowledgeable mortals have also succumed to the lure of the tides. Benefits of membership: You may purchase dots in allies, contacts, mentor or retainer that represent another type of supernatural being. You also get one "weird" discipline dot free at creation and can purchase it at in clan costs. Weird disciplines are those from the Translation Guide or bloodline disciplines. The main and common disciplines as well as the signature disciplines of Mekhet, Ventrue, Gangral, Deava and Nosferatu cannot be selected. We will work together on converting the discipline to Blood & Smoke standards. Free Skill dots: 1 in crafts, 1 in Sailing (replaces driving), and 1 in occult. Background requirements: I need to know *why* you're a pirate. Is it by choice? Were you exiled from land? Are you searching for something? Where did you pick up your "weird" discipline and how did you come to be a member of the Brotherhood? Alternatly, why are you a member of some other covenent and still a pirate? How do you communicate, what duties do you have and how do you discharge them? How did you meet Cpt Shark? Or did you run into Black Betty first? What's your opinions of the pirates? Of unlife on the seas? Every pirate has heard of a treasure or a lost isle of wonders, what's your seaman's tale? Where is the X on your treasure map and how serious are you about pursuing it? Who's your worst enemy? Who is your closest ally? New merits: Sea Legs *-*** *: you've been on a boat, penalties for actions taken while on the sea or during a storm are reduced by 1 **: You know not to call a ship a boat, penalties for actions taken while on the sea or during a storm are reduced by 2 ***: You are at home on the sea, penalties for actions taken while on the sea or during a storm are reduced by 3 Gunner *-**** You are able to use your firearm skill to reload and fire a ship's cannons without penalty, when commanding a cannon crew instead of the crew's. Firing more than 1 cannon adds the burst fire property for 2-5 cannons, auto fire for 6-10 and autofire +9 again for 10+ cannons. For every two cannons fired, an additional die is rolled to fire. Firing a cannon is a wits+firearm roll. Reloading is an extended action needing 10 successes to purge and load the cannon. 0-2 cannons :-0 dice 3-5: -1 die 5-7: -2 dice 8-10: -3 dice 10+ cannons: -4 dice. Each roll takes one round. Navigator * or ** * you can navigate by the stars at no penalty to survival rolls. Penalties for staying on course in rough seas are reduced by 1 ** You know the sea lanes. Judging by the winds and currents, you can track ships as long as you know their heading as of 24 hours prior. Penalties for staying on course in rough seas are reduced by 2 Crow's nest * All perception checks made while high above the surface gain the 9 again property and viewing distance before penelties activate is doubled. If Auspex is activated, this increases to 8 again. Barnacle *** or **** *** You can use level 1 of protean to merge with the hull of the ship instead of earth for no cost. Merging with earth costs 1 BP ****You can merge with the ship or with the earth for no cost. NPCS: Captain Shark No one knows where the nosferatu calling himself Captain Shark came from, but for the past twenty years he has roamed the Caribbean, preying on the trade ships that seek to exploit the riches of the Americas. Horrific, even for one of his clan, Shark has the rough, grey skin of his namesake along with a mouth that can open wide enough to engulf a man's head. When making use of his protean discipline, which is often, Shark's mouth sprouts rows of seratted, triangular teeth that can bite clean through bone, leaving wounds that even vampires find difficult to heal. Captain Shark is a man of great passions, he loves his crew with all his cold, unbeating, black heart and has faced sun and flame to rescue imprisoned crew memebrs. Those that reward his love (reinforced by his vitae suffused with the rum barrels) with loyalty are protected and taken care of. Those that betray him are usually punsihed by being the main course in one of Shark's cannible feasts. Unlike most kindred, Shark loves to eat solid food. Every full moon, he trusses up a slave, prisoner or tratior after the fashion of a roast pig and eats the poor soul alive. The kindred members of the crew are all invited to this meal, but they are only provided blood, spiked with rum or opium, if they wish. The bloody writhing meat is all for the Captain. The pirate does not seem to have any over arching goal aside from securing enough mortal chattle to keep well fed and enough loot to keep his crew paid. Some whisper that his endless rambling across the waters is in search of some lost artifact, whether it be the foutnatin of youth, the lance of Longius or one of the fabled crystal skulls of the Aztecs. If there are truth to these rumors only Shark and Black Betty know for certain. What is known, is that despite having contacts in many ports and a haven (and childe) on Tortuga, Captain Shark never stays on land longer than it takes to sell his booty ot repair his ship. Black Betty A gangrel of quiet ferocity, Black Betty has been with Captain Shark the longest of his inner circle. Betty is the child of a Tlaxcalan woman and a conquistador born in the 1520's. Her embrace came at a young age, one of the last remaining Aztec vampires kidnapped and then embraced her and left her to run wild on a newly arrived camp of Spainish settlers. The waif of a girl tore through the camp killing human and animal alike in her frenzy. When the rising sun began to burn her skin, something within her found the placidity of the dawn sea comforting and the fledgling vanished into the surf. She spent years haunting the shorelines of South America, as content to feed on the cold blood of fish and sea mammals as humans befores she came across her first pirate vessel. Again there was an instant kinship felt with these men of sea, a respect they returned after she beat four of them into a bloody pulp when they fell upon what they thought was a skinny young woman hardly out of childhood. Sleeping safe, merged with the ship's hull, Betty became known as Black Betty for the blood soaked hood she had taken to wearing during raids, fighting in a controlled frenzy and tearing apart the opposing crew with her claws. Eventually, the captain of the ship began to fear Betty more than he valued her combat prowess. Having learned her weaknesses over the years of raiding, the Captain and his cronies were able to overwhelm the vampire, stake her and tossed her over the side, tide in chain for the sharks to eat as she was trawled behind. That was when Captian Shark, on the lookout for this newest terror of the seas arrived in the Sanguine Dream, boarded the other pirate ship and unstaked Betty, offering her the quartermaster position on his ship and, eventually, awarding her a ship of her own. Some say that Betty and Shark are betrothed, that both are under viniculum to each other. The trust shared by the two kindred does seem oddly solid. For her part Betty values the trust placed in her and enjoys having a partner who revels in the freedom of teh waves as much as she does. On land, Betty is quiet and surly, only showing any sort of kindness (or even interest) when she needs something from a mortal. On the sea, even on her docked ship, she is outgoing and vivacious. Eager to prove what she and her new ship can do, Betty may be even more aggressive than Shark when it comes to hunting down and attacking ships and convoys. EDIT: Sorry for formatting and spelling. I had to type this in notepad at work, PM it to myself on facebook and then C&P'd from there to here when I got home. Soonmot fucked around with this message at 17:17 on Oct 6, 2014 |
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Oct 6, 2014 14:39
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Wait, so does this mean we have to take an unusual discipline that requires conversion from a previous system?
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Oct 6, 2014 16:50
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GoatLord posted:Wait, so does this mean we have to take an unusual discipline that requires conversion from a previous system? If you're going to join the Brotherhood covenent. I forgot to mention that Praestantia, Cruac or the Coils of the Dragon count. But yes, you membership in this exotic order has come about because of the strangeness your character has experienced and a non-common discipline is part of that. I've already reworked Chimerstry and Vicissitude because of my current game.
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Oct 6, 2014 17:11
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Okay, I'll start putting some stuff together. Not had much time recently, but I think I've got an idea now. Just have to be happy with how I phrase it.
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Oct 6, 2014 22:05
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Part 2, and probably the last of my long-form backstory. Will have answers for the rest of the backstory questions with my sheet. Interested in feedback. Over the next several weeks I learned a great many things. I learned that I was no longer human, but I had never been human; I had been livestock. Batnoam, my sire, said they were the same thing. It took me a while to realize just how right he was. I learned about clans, covenants, the masquerade, and all the petty intrigues that would define my new life for the next year and a half. Even the night of my embrace was just a ploy to spite one of Batnoam's rivals who happened to own a majority share of that plantation. I still couldn't walk the streets without being accosted and asked who my master was, and even though I was capable of tearing out the eyes of anyone who dared look down on my before they could blink, the masquerade said I could not, and I had to begrudgingly say my sire was my master. He certainly worked me like he was, sending me this way or that in all his little schemes in exchange for a cellar to shelter me from the sun and enough blood to maintain my wretched existence. I had crossed through death itself, and all I got was a promotion to house slave. It wasn't all bad. It turned out the tall nosferatu, Yorick Segher, hated the Phoenician as much as I came to, but the complex web of politics necessitated him to provide certain favors from time to time in order to continue his research undisturbed. I'm not sure why he took an interest in my to begin with; probably it was to jab at my sire. Whatever his reasons, he taught me to read, taught me to walk among mortals without being noticed, and most of all how to train the beast inside to answer to my commands; the first step to being free, he said, was to master yourself. He also said I absorbed everything he taught me remarkably quickly, especially considering my upbringing. “What a shame to see such talent wasted on Batnoam's scheming.” I could not agree with him more. One evening I was at Segher's workshop to continue my studies, having left my haven just as the sun crept below the horizon, before my sire could rise. That was the evening when I met the Captain. His visage was truly monstrous, more hideous than any nosferatu I'd seen before or since. But for all his monstrosity, he had a certain honesty about him. In all the time I'd walked the earth I was surrounded by monstrous men who wore a charming smile, but the Captain put it all out there; you knew exactly what you were getting when you dealt with him. He seemed to be a friend of Segher's, or perhaps friend is not the right word, but they spent the evening with an amicable exchange of information. I spent the time practicing my letter by pouring over some old business documents that had been laying around, trying to puzzle out the legalistic language. One of the papers caught my eye; it had the name Marguerite, and the name of my former master. I poured over every word carefully, and all the details matched up. This was the bill of sale for my sister. I might have cried, were I still capable of it. She was the one bit of goodness that ever touched my wretched life, and I had given up all hope of ever seeing her again, but here it was: the name and location of the man who purchased her. I had no idea how I would get there, but the details could come later. I finally had a goal beyond simple existence. It was two hours before dawn when I returned home, still clutching that all-important document. My sire was livid. “Where the hell have you been? I have a vitally important work for you.” I said nothing. “And what have you got there?” he demanded, snatching the paper from my hands. “Old leatherface, huh? I told him to burn this junk when he's done with it. Now listen,” he started stocking some coals in the fireplace, his back to me as he spoke, “there is a very dangerous man in port tonight. He's been interfering with my shipping interests for months now, and I need you scuttle his ship before he can leave.” I wasn't listening. All I could see was that paper and the fire. I could feel the anger welling up inside me, I could feel the beast, and I knew how to ride it. I remembered the first command that scheming bastard ever gave me, and I followed it. What followed was a euphoric blur as I sunk my fangs into his neck and didn't stop drinking until there was nothing left of him but dust. As the frenzy subsided I felt ecstatic and triumphant, but I also knew the consequences of what I'd just done. I could only think of one way out of it. I found the Captain less than an hour before dawn, just as his ship was about to cast off. He recognized me and asked if Yorick had forgotten something. I explained that if I did not leave this island tonight, I would be ash be the next dawn. He gave a massive, toothy grin. “Well we can't have that.”
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Oct 7, 2014 00:21
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Still working on both this and the sheet, but here's the first bit. The Barbary Coast, it is well known, is among the deadliest of places for those who did not pay their proper tributes. For those who wanted their goods moved through the Mediterranean sea, the option seemed clear enough: a small toll to the local governments to insure things moved safely and without harassment from the numerous pirate groups operating in the area, or the risk of losing everything, ship, cargo, crew, and perhaps even life itself. Any rational businessman would consider the cost, build in the “protection” as part of his fee structure, and pass the cost along to the consumers. But, as we all know, businessmen are not rational people. Simon de Bardelaben’s father, Jan, was one such fellow: gold in his eye, a contact in Syria with more spices than sense, a ship with fewer guns than it ought to to make more room for barrels, men who grumbled about not being paid until they reached port, and a faith that God’s love for an honest man would protect him better than all the weaponry in the world. Instead, Jan de Bardelaben found himself hauled in front of some very well educated royal officials, trying to quickly explain in broken Arabic why his “writ of passage” was actually a series of nonsensical scribbles on a scrap of paper, rather than the beautiful and elaborate script their scribes took care to use, and then why they should let him go because there were much better ships out there they ought to be bothering with wealthier cargo that would be more worth their time, and finally offering to bribe the two men with the sack of gold on his belt if they would just let him leave port right then and there and forget about the whole thing. After they dumped his father’s headless corpse overboard, the five year old Simon got used to life under Captain Sulayman. The regularity and rhythm of daily prayer, the science of using the stars and the sun to make sure you faced Mecca, the reverence with which even the lowest sailor held the service... It was all a far cry from the treatment of the virgin Mary and her son by the previous sailors in their frequent curses. Within ten years, Simon was an old hand at boarding ships, locating secret caches, sniffing out lies, and serving the empire. It was a fresh life, altogether unlike the brief, unhappy snatch of time spent with his father. But this paradisical state, too, came to a close after the Sack of Baltimore. For those unfamiliar with this incident, this daring raid on Irish soil by a band of Algerian pirates led by the Dutch pirate captain Murad Reis the Younger captured the entire populace of the small English settlement, all but three of the 108 souls never to see freedom again. During the raid, one of the settlers, a thin, red faced man with angry eyes and a stooped posture, knocked aside Simon’s scimitar without effort, pinned his arms against the wall, and bit him in the throat. He said something that sounded rude, in a language Simon couldn’t understand, in between swallows. Straining with all the effort he had left in him, Simon did the only thing he could think of: he bit the man back, tearing savagely with his teeth, opening up the man’s neck, bathing the both of them in blood. The man clasped a hand to the wound, the other keeping Simon locked in place, and laughed, a sharp cackle the likes of which Simon had never heard before -- somehow both offended and amused at the same time. He bit Simon’s wrist, sucking him to the point of death, and then pressed Simon’s mouth to the open neck wound, the blood flowing down his throat.
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Oct 7, 2014 07:04
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I'm going through backgrounds now. Loomer: I'm leaving yours alone until you get a chance to compile everything together. Also, I'm having to copy these on my phone, pm them to myself on facebook and then paste that to note pad to print up on the work printer. So please include spacibg between paragraphs in your novel so I dont have a 10 page text block :p EDIT: Nevermind. SA is blocked, but on a whim I tried to go to the forums directly and that worked. Soonmot fucked around with this message at 09:51 on Oct 7, 2014 |
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Oct 7, 2014 09:48
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Soonmot posted:
Hahah, can do. I'll have to rework the stats and all now that the XP is at 20 rather than 15 and with the Covenant weirdness. Expect that sometime in the next 48 hours (gut is telling me, though, navigator 2 and sea legs 2 are the order of the day for a Vampire who's spent more time at sea than half the cast have existed.)
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Oct 7, 2014 11:46
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So far everyone has been submitting really intersting backgrounds that would make for good characters. So I'm going to focus on if the questions I need answered are taken care of, instead. Again, those questions are: Why are you a Pirate? Why are in: the Brotherhood and how did you get that "weird" discipline /Covenent X and how do you maintain your membership? How did you meet Captian Shark or Black Betty? What is your opinion on Piracy/ Life on the sea? What is your mysterious treasure? Who is your enemy? Who is your ally? Let me know if I'm correct and address these in your backgrounds if they're missing Glaucus atlanticus: Why Pirate: Knows nothing else B/C: ? CapShark/Betty: ? Pirates/Sea: ? Treasure: ? Enemy: Hunter? Ally: ? Goat Lord Why Pirate: diablerie B/C: ? CapShark/Betty: Helped escape Pirates/Sea: ? Treasure: Sister? Enemy: ? Ally: Yorick? Spoilers Below Why Pirate:? B/C: ? CapShark/Betty: ? Pirates/Sea: Enjoyed being a corsair Treasure: ? Enemy: ? Ally: ? INH5 Why Pirate: Nothing left for him on land B/C: Still Lancea? CapShark/Betty: ? Pirates/Sea: ? Treasure: ? Enemy: Whoever killed his sire? Ally: ? Bloodnose Why Pirate: ? B/C: ? CapShark/Betty: ? Pirates/Sea: ? Treasure: ? Enemy: Johan? Ally: ?
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Oct 8, 2014 09:33
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Had a full workup, but it got eaten when I accidentally hit F5. For now, quick answers to the core questions in case I don't get a chance to do a proper writeup before my weekend at the seaside. Also, is the Covenant weird discipline in addition to or instead of one of the 3 standard dots? I'm assuming instead of. Kveldulf is a pirate by default. He goes where the tides go, and right now, that's the Caribbean. Sigrun is there, the Rotgrafen follow in her footsteps. And there are too many Sanctified land princes! He's in the brotherhood because it appears to him to be an ideal tool to be turned to the purpose of forging an army for the Ragnarok. Weird rear end dudes with weird rear end powers are the perfect pick for the task. Also, relations between the Rotgrafen and the other covenants can be... Icy, at best. The 'weird' discipline in question is Ralab, obtained by devouring an Arabian vampire who came to the north in the wake of ibn Fadlan. This is also where he picked up his Ghul manservant, Haroun, who's stuck with him since. Tricky to keep aboard a ship, but there are benefits to having an utterly unkillable creature at your disposal. For one, it certainly makes a coup much harder to pull off. In Tortuga chasing down rumours of a Pirate Queen of the Damned. It was Betty, not Sigrun, but it's a start! Sigrun herself. And also, bizarre as it is, more laws. When the Carthian movement rolls around, he's going to stop at nothing to get his hands on Carthian Law if we're still rolling at that point. Enemies? There are many! * Floki Magnusson, AKA 'Frederick Magnusson' AKA 'The Swede'. Long shed blood demands vengeance even through the sleep of ages. Magnusson must die. The feeling is mutual. * Þorgeir Þorkelsson. While less of a threat than many of his enemies, Thorgeir still seeks Kveldulf's redemption - or his death. Death is much simpler to achieve, and as the years go by Thorgeir forgets more and more why he ever cared about trying to redeem his once-loved brother. At this point it's more force of habit than anything, a way to pass the time. * Just about every Sanctified prince still has a hate-on for the Rotgrafen. * Rasiya, the sire of Ali ibn Musa - the Asnam Kveldulf ate. Prominent among the Barbary Corsairs, she's more a threat than Kveldulf realizes. And there's the small, but frightening, possibility that the unbondable Haroun is still secretly working for her... Allies? There are less. * Sigrun, if she can ever be found. * Other Rotgrafen who honour their elders. * Erich Janssen, a middle-man with the Dutch West Indies Company who's well-inclined towards Kveldulf. * Haroun. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.
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Oct 8, 2014 16:11
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In addition to. So, if you choose the Brotherhood, you get 4 discipline dots free. One just has to be a "weird" one.
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Oct 8, 2014 16:30
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Soonmot posted:In addition to. So, if you choose the Brotherhood, you get 4 discipline dots free. One just has to be a "weird" one. Well hot drat. EDIT: So tempted to dump everything to max out Ralab. I wouldn't, since that's the sort of hook that makes for adventures into dark jungle temples seeking out Blood Gods with similar powers for More Knowledge, but it'd be delicious. Magnusson finally corners Kveldulf, tears off his head, and declares himself victor... Only for a member of his herd to suddenly turn into Kveldulf and drink him dry when he gets home. "Surprise." For something I might actually do? Haven of Flesh. Kveldulf can literally live inside the crew during the daytime that way. Unfortunately Haroun is a Ghul, not a ghoul, so Kveldulf can't live inside him. But that's probably for the best. Do we really want a viking pirate lawyer to live inside a corpse-eating monster that can never die? That seems like a recipe for trouble... Although that does raise a thought. It'll be a long time and some stories off (gotta raid those dark jungle temples still!) but hypothetically, there'd be nothing to keep an Asnam from taking a human child and making him the Unholy Avatar, then raising him to eat the flesh of the dead to become a ghul. That's a terrifying thought: You can kill the Asnam, but his avatar is nigh-on unkillable so long as he only eats in secure places. If you kill him, he repeats the process, each time creating a ghul to harbour his essence if he should be killed. Say, I wonder if that's occurred to Rasiya. Loomer fucked around with this message at 17:25 on Oct 8, 2014 |
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Oct 8, 2014 16:40
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What exactly is involved in joining the Brotherhood beyond being a vampire in Captain Shark's crew? It would be easy enough for me to justify membership in the Ordo Dracul, but how can I pass up free XP?
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Oct 8, 2014 16:56
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The most obvious way would be getting hired by the capitain and offering your aligance to him exclusivly.
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Oct 8, 2014 18:53
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GoatLord posted:What exactly is involved in joining the Brotherhood beyond being a vampire in Captain Shark's crew? It would be easy enough for me to justify membership in the Ordo Dracul, but how can I pass up free XP? Except there is no ordo in this time peroid, I thought? Brotherhood is basically being a pirate and pursuing strange and unusual knowledge. I've not really developed it really, so if you wamt to add some depth to it beyond that, go for it!
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Oct 8, 2014 20:17
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Soonmot posted:Except there is no ordo in this time peroid, I thought? Brotherhood is basically being a pirate and pursuing strange and unusual knowledge. I've not really developed it really, so if you wamt to add some depth to it beyond that, go for it! Pursuing strange and unusual knowledge is 100% the MO of the Ordo Dracul. From the core book, Vlad Tepes became a vampire in 1476, and the Ordo Dracul formed around his writings. So depending on the precise time this campaign is set, it should have been around for somewhere between 100 to 200 years which is fairly young by vampire standards. And it was always the smallest of the five base covenants anyway, so it would be totally legit for whatever presence it has in the Caribbean to be subsumed by the Brotherhood.
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Oct 8, 2014 20:36
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GoatLord posted:Pursuing strange and unusual knowledge is 100% the MO of the Ordo Dracul. From the core book, Vlad Tepes became a vampire in 1476, and the Ordo Dracul formed around his writings. So depending on the precise time this campaign is set, it should have been around for somewhere between 100 to 200 years which is fairly young by vampire standards. And it was always the smallest of the five base covenants anyway, so it would be totally legit for whatever presence it has in the Caribbean to be subsumed by the Brotherhood. Yeah, I'm fine with that. The Lancea and the Invictus are the only real covenant powers. The Circle is pretty much just pagan enclaves scattered about with even less of a unified theme than the modern day and Dracula is still getting his poo poo together.
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Oct 9, 2014 05:29
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