mythicdawnmaster

"Whatever the case may be Ordinator, I am indebted to you, and to your companion" She smiled noting the ashlander- She was not expecting to see one of her kind so far from the ashen wastes. But then, who would have thought that Morrowind's last saint, and the Ordinator Faeryn would be walking through the roads of Skyrim? Hearing the sound of battle close by, Iodiria slowly rose to her feet, mustering enough strength to cast a healing spell, and focus it upon her side. "I should be able to walk now." She confirmed, looking into Faeryn's eyes. "My old friend, I must ask... what of Adrynn? Azura has tasked me with finding him, and I was able to garner that his destination was the reach... tell me, is there something significant regarding the Karthspire? Can it be coincidence that I seek him, and such an ancient place is now a battle ground?"

"Aww, you wouldn't compete against little 'ol me would you?" Aurora said playfully, sauntering over to Tannin, a look of faked sadness on her face, but the ever present glimmer of seduction in her eyes, she came close to him, looking into his purple iris's. "And you know, my purse was stolen, those five hundred coins make up what was taken... and I'd be very... very grateful."

Sasha grinned, letting out a little laugh of amusement. She was enjoying this. lifting glasses to wipe her eye. "Oh that's cute, it really is." Pausing for a moment to take in the situation a little more, placing a well manicured hand upon the protrusive bone of her hip. "Us? too many. Them? more than enough, at least, there were until a few years back- My mistress tells me that there is roughly one of them to every hundred thousand of us worldwide, but you can't be sure." Sighing, she decided she'd give Tom a brief crash course. "The one with the mohawk? He's a Malkavian, utterly mad their blood has driven them insane. The ruffian next to me and the pair of louts over there are Gangrel, closest to animals out of all the Kindred. The one dressed up in black, looking all creepy, he's a Nosferatu... I've never seen one quite so attractive, usually they are human nightmares incarnate, dwell in the sewers from what I've heard. My mistress is a Toreador, the artists, the beauties and the hedonist... but as I said, live long enough and your mistress might just give you a proper lesson- Do give her the regards of Miss Barenchekov would you?" With that, Sasha turned, stepping into the Mercedes once more, she was gone from the scene as fast as she had arrived- She had enough grit to give to Ameline, but her mistress was not overly fond of the gory details and tiresome fighting that was now occurring.

If you ask me his entire concept is rather flawed, without being a jerk, I have read the Tzimisce clanbook, and never have I come across one that (Aside from the Star-F*cker template) That would make themselves famed in any way shape or form. They are reclusive, secretive, and actively hunted by the Tremere, his "Fame", especially on a level as high as Beckett's would make him an easy target, and as the note you provided says " in Eastern Europe, many Tzimisce give only lip service to the Sabbat" for that very reason alone, did it not occur to you that once his presence is made known, especially seeing as he is so widely feared, that a Blood Hunt would be called by the Camarilla? Because London is a Camarilla city. And yes, the world of darkness is a horrific setting by lore, but this is an extension of the nexus forums, and furthermore, to quote the rules: 10) Communication is the key. Always establish your RP boundaries when you are Rping with someone long-term. If you don't like swearing...or a particular kind of violence...or if you will take anything coming down the pike! Let others know. It avoids awkward and unpleasant conversations later. Tokyobleach has expressed her discomfort regarding self harm, and whether it is a part of the WoD or not, it distresses her, and therefore out of courtesy and respect if nothing else you won't give her such a snooty reply, does it matter how long she's been playing WoD? I've been playing for a while now, and does that mean I am comfortable with every tiny detail in the thing? No. The Ocean house level greatly distressed me after finding the newspaper regarding the severed child's head, so I skipped the level using cheats, that is a subject that I find sensitive and would never dream of detailing, the harming of children disgusts me, and I imagine if I began writing about such matters no one would be all too happy, WoD or not (indeed the harm of Children is present in the greater setting), this is a forum roleplay, not the game, and therefore compromises are going to have to be made, no matter "How long you've been playing WoD." I must disagree, five disciplines is a hell of a lot, and a Tzimisce with both Vicissitude and Thaumaturgy? That is rather overpowered whether you see so or not, coupled with animalism, should a fight ensue whomever opposes him would be utterly eliminated. Also, the fact he was embraced by The Dracon, a fourth generation Tzimisce, he would be of the fifth generation, a Methuselah. It says in both the original and the 20th anniversary book that they possess demi-godly power, and are rumoured to be able to open the gates of hell themselves- Please explain how that is not in the regions of a mary sue? And again, to embrace and play the WoD you do not need to embrace each and every aspect- This is not an official WoD chronicle nor a true experience, if it was we would have dice and would all be starting with 12th generation Neonates just released from their sires service. I may not run this thread, that's Josh's job, but I think having roleplayed on this website long enough, having made a whole host of mistakes that have ruined experiences for other roleplayers myself, I can tell you that creating a character like this one is a bad idea, and that arguing with everyone else and throwing around that they have to play the setting a certain way and accept all of it's horrors is a sure way to get yourself disliked- An attitude like that isn't gonna help anything, they have all made valid points and clearly everyone thinks it's a bad idea, so that must say something. I don't want a huge argument, and neither do I want the moderators to get involved, we all saw what happened with Baldur and it wasn't pretty, I really don't want a re-run, nor to waste the moderators time with such petty things as a roleplay- You have to give a little and get a lot, what is one character to a long and prosperous roleplay?

Stirring slowly, gold flecked eyes flickering open heavily, Iodiria breathed a heavy, sharp breath, the pain in her side returning as she inhaled. A wound so deep would not heal as would a graze or scratch, this would need time and care before she was back to her full health. Something was amiss however, she was not in quite so much pain, and the wound had ceased to bleed. Her vision hazy but regaining it's focus after a moment or two, she pulled up her visor and looked around in disbelief- This was not where she had collapsed, but neither was it the bowels of a Forsworn stronghold. Turning her head to the side she noticed the familiar golden glow that radiated from the armour of all of the Ordinators, those whom had served in the streets of Vivec's great many cantons at least. And almost instantly, she knew who this glow belonged to. Faeryn. With a soft but pained smile, the Mournful General reached out a hand to touch the chitinous plate of his armour, to ensure she was not experiencing a cruel hallucination. "Faeryn? Yours is a mask I never thought to see again... you... saved me?" There was a subtle hint of embarrassment in her strained voice of serenity, for one to see her in such a state, unable to move from her wounds, crawling pitifully across the ground... This was not the legend of the Living Saint Iodiria would like to be told. But wounds befell all warriors, renown could not shield one from the brutality of such monsters as the forsworn.

Really stuck as to what to post at the moment, as the gang is in the tavern at the moment I may as well focus on Ravenna.

Sorry to crush that dream but this thing died a many months ago, and there are currently no plans for revival. Sorry about that but I'm certainly not going to encourage the creation of a sheet as it'd be a complete waste of time- If you want to get into the universe I cannot say how essential playing the games is, I'd certainly start with the first and work your way up. :thumbsup:

Sasha smirked, and with a dismissive sneer and almost laughed at the newly bound Ghoul. "I'll tell you newbie, but you'll just take it all in and memorize it for your mistress, without understanding a term. But don't worry, if you live long enough and prove to be useful, you might learn a thing or two about this world you've gotten yourself into... I know I have..." Sasha trailed off wistfully for a moment, but focused back on Tom. "I was sent here by Clan Toreador's Primogen to investigate the explosion, which seemingly burnt those corpses to a crisp." The gangrel pet that followed the commands of Ameline and her toy snarled as another of his kind dropped from the rooftops, revealing himself arrogantly- With a statement like that he clearly had something to do with this; But was he the killer or the demolitionist? "Look sharp blood doll, company." Sasha warned, narrowing her gaze to perceive the rugged appearance of the recently revealed Kindred.

Here is the sheet of my next character (Viola has been... displaced for now), Xi-Jing. If anyone (particularly our supreme overlord) has anything to ask about the disciplines or anything else in here that is Kuei-Jin specific do ask, as I don't think the Wiki has much detail on everything, or if anything needs clarifying do say, I haven't gone into as much detail as I would have liked, but it's a sheet nonetheless. I have tried to explain the disciplines chosen briefly however, but if any questions do remain, do ask :blush: : GENERAL INFORMATION: Name: Xi-Jing. Gender: Female. Race: Asian (Chinese). True Age: 369 Apparent Age: 32. Religion: Taoism. Clan: Kuei-Jin (put in clan for ease) Chi Balance: Yin Direction: West (Skilled in communing with Spirits, Kuei-Jin of the west are cold and unfeeling, attuned necromancers and carers of wayward spirits.) Dharma: The Song of the Shadow (Unfeeling, emotionless Kuei-Jin, they are the scholars, assassins and diplomats of the Middle Kingdom, among which stand necromancers and occultists, sorcerers and spirit-stealers) Nature(Hun): Conniver Nature(P’o): Demon *Disciplines: Yin prana, Mibasham, Tzu Wei, Bone Shintai. Haven: Her home in London’s Chinatown. APPEARANCE: Height: 5’9 Weight: 120lbs Hair: Black Eyes: An eerie, powder blue. Skin: Alabaster Handedness: Right Scars/Tattoos: The largest tattoo Xi-Jing possesses encompasses the entirety of her back. In the centre rests a large yin orb, the yin a purple-black. In line with the boundaries of yin a tapestry of images relating to said form of chi ensures that no part of her flesh is left visible on her back, the images of tortured souls and desolation, the ebon dragon encircles the black egg, and the scarlet queen cries a river of blood. Her arms are subject to scripture and codes in various places, serpentine forms and dragon like creatures framing particularly important sutras, each finger bears a line of Chinese characters running from above her nail to bellow her knuckle. The tattoos on her arms are not all-encompassing however- They only run down the inside (save those on her fingers) General physical description: Tall, lean and lithe, Xi-Jing strikes an imposing figure and a powerful visage. With a head of full, silky black hair, and a gaunt but attractive face, her jaw is strong, her lips full and her eyes wide yet expressionless. While blessed with mortal beauty, her unnaturally icy ness detracts from this, as she often sends shivers down the spine of those who meet her. Voice: Tinged with an asian accent, a mingling of both Chinese and Japanese that has waned slightly from her time abroad, Xi-Jin speaks clearly and calmly, her tone often monotonous, expressionless. A devout follower of her path, she gives knowledge freely, but wraps it in silken cloth, that is to say, much of what she says is in subtle riddles. Clothing/armor: While possessing a wardrobe of authentic Chinese wear given to her as a gift from the Quincunx , her favoured wear are the black silken gowns she dons when reading portents- She is often seen in a silken gown, it clings to her body like film, protecting her modesty in its entirety, the gown has full sleeves and a long, heavy train, adorned with golden rope tassels. Various images of a subtly haunting nature are threaded into the silk, a vast tapestry of seemingly ever changing images. She often wears jade jewellery, not only for its appearance, but for the stores of Yin residing within. It is worth noting that culturally she considers herself neither predominantly Chinese nor adoptively Japanese- Rather, she considers herself Kuei-Jin, and dresses in elements of both the Chinese and Japanese culture. PERSONALITY: General Personality Traits: Cold to the iciest extremity and detached from mortal cares and worries, Xi Jing is a being who embodies the Cold Mind, ever calm with an impenetrable will and non-existent temper, she is often regarded as unsettlingly still and contemplative. She watches, she listens, she consorts with spirits, all the while with never a hunt of anger, never a flicker of raw emotion. Her detachment is not just from others, but from the realm of concern also; Acts of unspeakable evil, or the threats of a greater being do not cause her to flinch, rather look on with a cold gaze. Fears: She fears being destroyed before her path of knowledge is complete. Attitudes towards friends/strangers: A diplomat, despite her iciness she is cordial and politely spoken to all. Opinion of the world: The world has a great many mysteries to unravel, but it is merely one world between many. HISTORY: Past: Born between the collapse of the Ming Dynasty, and the rise of the Qing Dynasty, Xi-Jing was known as Liu Tze in life, the daughter of a provincial governor. Her path was not destined to be that of a dutifull wife however, her true calling was the knowledge of the ages- Drawn to the spirit world and hearing the faintest whisper of the Shadow Song, her death came as she had all but unravelled the truth about the ancestor spirits, her lifelong pursuit to understand what lay beyond the veil, was cut short by the broadsword of a mindless criminal. Second Breath: Her determination to achieve her mortal goals only served to push her P’o through the Yomi World, and into her body once more. Taken in by various Kuei-Jin elders, she learnt much of her society, and absorbed the knowledge as she had in life- Interred into the Jade Court of Changan, to learn under many a mentor, and eventually under Bodhisattva Zhao Zaikeng himself. It was not until the year 1900 did she leave the confides of the temple to seek out further enlightenment, her travels taking her far from the middle kingdom, into realms of ancient secrets, most prominent among them perhaps Egypt, there she successfully conversed with the spirit of a long dead pharaoh, and learnt the secrets of the Egyptian afterlife, or, at least what she could extract from the spirit. From there, her journey took her into Europe, and, eventually London, where she resides as a fortune teller, consorting with Yama Kings to further her goals. Birthplace: Lìjiāng Family/Relationships: All deceased and all but forgotten. Living/Dead Family Members: N/A Friends: She has few friends, but a number of ‘contacts’ with whom to speak in the western world. Enemies: She has earned the ire of many a being in her time. Current Nationality: Chinese Current Place of Residence: London, Chinatown. ----- ​*Discipline explanations: Yin Prana: To put it simply and not ramble on for pages, it is the ability of Kuei-Jin who are attuned to Yin energies to manipulate it. Yin is dark energy for lack of a better phrase, while Yang is the spiritual energy associated with living, happiness, joy, anger and excitement (and is ciphered from such emotions), Yin is the opposite, and through Yin Prana, one can manipulate the balance of Yin in anothers body to say, make them ill, depressed. Or even manifest the energy in a literal form, spewing it forth as a black cloud that corrodes and withers whatever it touches (But this is a very drastic use). Mabisham: A feared and obscure art rarely practised by Kuei-Jin who are not of a philosophical standing, it allows the being to tap into the very nature of existence itself, in a way. It allows the Kuei-Jin to look into another's soul to see what drives them, exploit others ignorance to true reality to assist in combat, create powerful illusions and travel to the Yin and Yang worlds (a foolish exploit for the ill prepared) and at a level of true mastery, force a fellow Kuei-Jin to re-evaluate his place in the great wheel, and change his Dharmic standing. It is also a key component of spirit communication, as it allows one to peer into the underworld. Tzu Wei: Really the advanced and supernaturally aided art of fortune telling, for the short explanation, it allows one to see what the stars hold, and even alter them to grant one luck by grasping joss currents to push others along their path, cast horoscopes and read omens. Bone Shintai: If Flesh Shintai is to Kuei-Jin what Fleshcrafting is to the Tzimisce, then Bone Shintai is to the Tzimisce an oriental version of their Bone Sculpting. Practised by many Kuei-Jin for it's versatility, it is not quite as comprehensive as Bone Sculpting to the average user, it allows bony plates to be formed as protection, claws to be sprung from ones fingers, or perhaps a blade crafted from the bone in ones arm. It is often used by more scholarly Kuei-Jin as a last resort only, when diplomacy fails and combat is the only option remaining- Although whether ones attacker fights after one turn ones shin into a serrated blade is debatable.

Ameline sighed with relief as they arrived safely back at Barenchekov Theatre, as it was officially known. The ancient building stood like numerous others in London's West End, tall, broad and imposing, yet a mark of joy and entertainment. The exterior of the building had seen better days for certain, the polluted London air and acidic rain had eroded the glory of the limestone, cracks and other structural weaknesses further detracted from it's glory. However, upon obtaining the Theatre, Ameline had made considerable renovations. Transformed from a simple theatre, into a den of social gathering, a Nightclub, and the home of Toreador's primogen, it was a marvel. Inside the auditorium, only the shape of an opera house remained, for it was now a luxuriously decadent club. The stage remained where it was, and was often used for live band performances should such an event occur, but where the ground-level seating had once been, a huge dancefloor lay instead. Around this colossal floor, where various seating areas and booths beneath the balconies, a bar in near every corner. Above the ground level where the V.I.P rooms, where the aristocracy once sat in their ascendant booths, the rich sat drinking the finest of beverages, entertained by whomever they pleased, the upper levels were divided into three sections; In the centre, the bar and a small dancefloor, lined against the walls were various seating arrangements, and through a door on the far left and right sides respectively, the private opera boxes for those who were either incredibly wealthy, incredibly famous, or both. This structure carried on for three levels, each V.I.P level seemingly increasing in the importance of it's members, and the quality of it's seats. While the caste system had not existed in Britain for many years, it was perhaps the Russian influence of Ameline that brought about such a hierarchical way of organizing her club, the least wealthy on the ground, the most wealthy on top, which was how her life had been arranged in her mortal years. Above the stage, and extending three stories above the roof of the main building (however integrated in a way that suggested it had always been there) was Ameline's mansion complex. Almost like a square, flat roofed home just perching atop the theatre, it was built of limestone and accented with gold. The interior of this remarkably vast complex was of ornate design, black and red marble made up the interior colour scheme respectively, each corridor had a floor of red, and walls of black. Best perhaps described as Naryshkin Baroque, the furniture was gold framed and cushioned with dark velvets, it was what one would expect from a dark monarch, old fashioned but brilliantly alluring. The one thing it did not have in excess however (yet) was paintings. No Toreador's home was complete without original pieces of art from carefully manipulated new artists. It was something Ameline was working on however. As she entered the complex, Ameline gave another sigh, feeling safe once more inside her walls. She needed more information on these murders. It was bad enough one Vampire bested, but six? seven? Whatever, or whomever was killing off Kindred was certainly determined to make it messy. Deciding that she did not want to be left in the dark on this any longer, she made a call to Sasha, asking her to investigate the scene of this explosion. ---- Arriving by chauffeured Mercedes, Sasha and Ameline's pet Gangrel arrived in time to see one of the bodies dragged away by a man in a schoolbus, and to notice a finely-clad woman and her assistant observing the charred crime scene, unsure as to exactly who this woman was, Sasha tried to get a closer look without disturbing the tan beauty, although she could not help but nod agreeably to her chosen footwear.

Finally got to throwing Iodiria in your path my dears :tongue:

No sooner than the stoic adventures had made their way into the reach, was Iodiria ambushed. Barely registering the projectile that flew towards her as she rushed through the craggy scenery of the reach upon horseback, she realized what it was too late to do anything about it, and the crude forsworn arrow found it's mark upon her breastplate, forcing the Ordinator from her steed and onto the cobbled ground bellow. Grunting in anger and pain, Iodiria gripped the shaft and snapped it, throwing it to the ground and drawing her scimitar. Pushing down the visor of her effeminate helmet, the carved tears a deep ebony, marked her as one of the Mournful Guard. She advanced forwards slowly, her steed butchered ahead, and the rattling bones that dangled from the Forsworn's uncouth armour clattering around her. From her left came the first, a Ravager armed with a pair of serrated wooden blades, ducking before the onslaught of crazed swordsmanship, Iodiria swung her blade to parry, severing the first blade of the woman. With a violent thrust the ravager was impaled upon Iodiria's curved blade, a pair of twists followed, and the Ravager was down. Removing her weapon in time to avoid the axe of another assailant, Iodiria circled the man with an air of superiority, pride. As he rushed for her, she used the intact shoulder of her pauldrons to cut him off, his rush stopped as the elongated piece hit his throat. Gripping the back of his head, she forced her blade up between his ribs, and dropped him unceremoniously to the ground. The next attack however was one the general could not avoid, before she had the chance to turn, the greatsword had penetrated her side, swung with such a force against the ancient cuirass that is split the lacquered chitin, and left a deep gouge that had already started to bleed profusely. Spinning, she made for her attacker, only to find his gargantuan size near impossible to hit. With another swing he caught her leg, cutting her outer thigh and further angering the aged warrioress. With a great hand the savage gripped Iodira by the throat, lifting her writing body into the air. His fingers tightened as he began crushing her windpipe. With a symphony of choking Iodiria narrowed her gold flecked eyes, feeling the blood rush to her head. With the last of her might she swung her lower body forwards, her legs gripping tightly the Forsworn's neck. With powerful muscles, the Mournful General began to twist, in a struggle of whom could snap the others neck first. As her body dropped, back hitting the floor hard, the corpse of her would be assailant dropped atop her, his neck having lost it's stiffness, lolling to the side almost comically. Panting heavily, Iodiria pulled herself from beneath the carcass, retrieving her blade, she attempted to continue down the path, but the wound to her leg had already proven too much, and she collapsed in a heap, crawling pitifully in an attempt to reach the grass verge.

Xallistine did not sleep a wink that night, instead, he stayed downstairs pouring over various spell books to find something spectacular to unleash in the magic tournament, he was confident in his abilities, confident indeed. The arrogance of his race shone through at a time like this, faced with lesser human wizards who had not the years it was going to be an easy victory. Poor humans. ------ "Where the hell did my purse go?" Aurora sighed, waking up on her bedroom floor rather than in the bed. After losing the man and being pointed down an alley by some woman or other to no avail, the bard had returned to the inn for some sleep. Shrugging her shoulders she bathed and prepared for the day ahead, making sure she looked presentable. In the common room she practised varying vocal tones much to the chagrin of the innkeepers wife.

".... Did you see what she was wearing? That skirt! Ugh, when your legs are that fat they need to be hidden! Such a way to put one off the art, having to watch those flabby rolls wobble about while she explained each piece. That one isn't for the turning let me tell you." Came the disgusted voice of Ameline, leaning back lazily into her seat, the golden-frame chair a deep crimson, sat in an opera box of purple. "I know! I could have sworn those tights would rip, she even dared to wear them with a seam! Her! A fat cow like that can't wear tights made for those with the legs of the elite!" Agreed another bitchy voice, Ameline's favoured Ghoul, Sasha, a blonde-bobbed girl who could have been a model. "Tell me about it." Ameline replied with a roll of her eyes, flicking the ash from her cigarette into the hair of the Gangrel that sat like an animal at her feet. The Primogen leant forwards ever so slightly to tilt her head at the ongoing performance on stage, but paid it little heed. Her nights were becoming more drab by the moment. All the interesting people had gone. Dressed in a deep royal blue, the satin dress featured a plunging neckline of some extremity, cutting a fine line between the Russian's ample cleavage. Some suspected surgery, others the intervention of a fleshcrafter, but Ameline passed off her 32 D's as 'A natural gift'. The dress extended to floor level, cut with a lengthy slit that revealed her right leg up to her thighs. The skin tight number was paired with laced stockings and a pair of Sergio Rossi 6' heels. Her hair was pulled into an elegant updo, makeup the same as always. "Can the dancers not do anything other that pick eachother up? All I've seen this performance is pick up, pick up, pick up!" "But Ameline.... this is your favourite, it's Swan Lake, you..." With a slap Ameline silenced her ghoul. "And what if I've grown bored hmm? Are you going to fix that by finding something better for next time or do I have to watch this until my eyes fall out?!" "I... I'm sorry! Do you hate me? I'm so sorry! Please! Please don't hate me! I... I love you mistress, please!" Sasha was near in tears, her sobbing however was lost to everyone else attending the theatre, amidst the music of the orchestra. "Shh... Of course I still love you... but I need better next time, Okay?" "*Sniff* Okay... I will." "Good girl... now, I am leaving, I need to get away from this mess." Ameline replied, rising to her feet, as Sasha was about to follow suit she pushed the ghoul back into her seat. "No no, you need to stay here to keep up appearances." Outside the Primogen was well on her way to the car, when a huge explosion cracked the air, it's vibrations felt even from the theatre. Turning her head to the billowing smoke that began filling the sky, she could not help but shake the feeling something unwanted was going to transpire.... The murder of the Nosferatu woman and all those that had followed was but the first of many a chain of gruesome events it seemed. Nevertheless the Primogens concern was her safety, not that of anyone else. With a sigh she entered the back seat of her vehicle, ready to return home. The Prince had remained silent on the subject of these grim events up until now- She wondered if he would call a meeting any time soon?

Here is my next character :D Name: Ameline Barenchekov GENERAL INFORMATION: Gender: Female Race: Russian (Caucasian) True Age: 280 Apparent Age: 29 Path: (if on a Path) Religion: Atheist Clan: Toreador Clan/Bloodline Disciplines: Auspex, Celerity, Presence. Haven: Barenchekov Theatre APPEARANCE: Height: 6’1” Weight: A lady never tells, but from her stick-thin silhouette, it’s certainly below average for a woman of her height. Hair: Ameline’s hair is long and thick, a deep shade of entirely artificial red, it shimmers brilliantly, often worn in waves or an updo of some kind. Eyes: Light brown Skin: Pale white and flawless. Handedness: Right Scars/Tattoos: The Toreador rose on her right wrist. General physical description: Tall, lithe and model-thin, Ameline embodies that which is most commonly seen as beautiful on a highly superficial level- Much to the joy of the Toreador whom embraced her. With a naturally high hairline (but by no means bordering on receding) Ameline’s face is framed by her red hair, a forehead free of wrinkles or lines leads to a highly arched brow, eyebrows meticulously plucked and styled to perfection, her eyes are expressive and captivating, long lashes protrude from the lid. Her nose is neither hugely long nor drastically short, it is delicately shaped and symmetrical in shape. Her lips are full and in a near perpetual semi-pout. Her jawline is strong and her chin soft. Makeup is an ever present and all important feature of Ameline’s appearance, for without it she seems incapable of projecting ‘natural beauty’, which is just as well considering it is only the superficial that interests her. Her face is kept pale and of a porcelain quality, cheeks contoured and slightly rouged to offset her cheekbones, her eyes thick with flicked slivers of eyeliner, and tasteful, smokey grey eye shadow- Her lips are a glossy crimson red. Voice: Deep, sultry, and naturally seductive, her every word is laced with sweet rapture, breathy and exaggerated, she appeals to people through witty remarks and carefully placed compliments, her subtle Russian accents adds an allure of exoticism, further helping her bend her words for maximum effect. Clothing/armor: An undisputed Couture Queen when the moment hits her, Ameline is known for her dazzling gowns and captivating jewellery when appearing at Kindred events or meetings, with a taste that is both artistic and expensive, new and upcoming designers find their catwalk creations purchased by the charismatic seductress, as do the kingpins of the fashion world. Red, blue, green, purple, any colour as long as it mingles with her desires can be seen upon her, favouring shades that are slightly darker, or lighter, than her hair when choosing a red, she is not fond of neon colours at all, she likes to leave such blindingly sickly colours to the Malkavians that so choose to dress themselves. Casual wear is equally as expensive for Ameline, although when not attending an event she likes to wear all manner of revealing clothes, from crimson red trouser-suits, to plunging mini-dresses, she seldom wears the same thing twice, but one thing that can be counted upon however, is that Ameline will be wearing heels. PERSONALITY General Personality Traits: Ameline is a flirt and a social paramour, an adept at manipulating near any situation to her own gain, she plays many people against each other with a slight whisper. If one phrase could be used to describe the bewitching lady of the evening, it would most definitely be “Two faced b*tch.”. Her personality, magnetic as it may be, is certainly not one any should come to trust, but trust they do. When sitting with two friends, she will whisper sweet cajolery to whomever is on her right, then turn to the hound upon her left to whisper wicked insults about the former- Such is the game she plays each night, be it on a grand or a small scale, turning friends against eachother, stealing assets where she may find them, crushing marriages should such an action benefit her, and either utterly destroying, or utterly bolstering a Kindred’s standing in social society. She is cunning, seductive, enthralling, enticing and ever cheerful when she wishes one well, while her every thought is of herself, her amorous attention and supposed caring may be lent for a time to whomever is blessed or cursed enough to receive it, those who do find themselves blissfully strung along and bled dry of whatever resource they can offer her, money, power, information, all things can be loosened if enough sweet love is applied. Of course, the winning smile and caring tone, laced with rapture as it may be, hides a vile and unattractive dark side. Social snubbing Is one thing, and simple bitching is to be expected in the full from all Toreador, but if one earns Ameline’s love in a less than favourable way, then the old story of the burnt out Toreador elder plotting their revenge and orchestrating it as a piece of art comes to life, be it social shattering of the most serious, emotional destruction or even final death, Ameline’s bitchyness transforms into dangerous resent. Fears: True Death, being degraded to a lower standing, losing her social status. Attitudes towards friends/strangers: She is welcoming and happy upon meeting strangers and relatively unknown people, but once she has met you a face is something she never forgets. To friends she is attentive and open, going to great lengths to ensure she keeps them (while talking about them behind their back) Her ways are of constant flirtation and of telling people what they want to hear, until you do something wrong. Then be prepared to face the Alpha-B*tch in all her glory. Opinion of the world: The world is a playground for someone like Ameline, here she may spin her we and manipulate her toys as she pleases, but it is also full of beautiful mortals just waiting to be loved, kindred to be entwined amongst, and powerful evils to avoid at all cost. HISTORY Past: Born in Moscow the daughter of a wealthy aristocrat, a vast renowned party-thrower and gossip mongerer, her life was one of hedonism and artistic pursuits- a benefactress to penniless artists, broke metal smiths and starving architects, her excessive borrowing of family money for such pursuits were frowned upon, but her father gave in to save himself the trouble of dealing with her in an angered state. She secretly slept around with the most handsome of the noble stock, currying favours and simply living life on a self-destructive path of hedonistic pursuits, parties, gambling, you name it she may well have taken part. However, rather than her deteriorating path lead to die young and be remembered forever, it lead to die young and live forever- Meeting perhaps the most alluring creature she had ever seen, a supposed count named Bronski, her heart stopped and her vampiric eyes opened. She adjusted well and fast to the Kindred lifestyle, and after many years conquering the Kindred’s social circles in Russia, she left in the 19th century to pursue the wonders of the outside world. Creating quite the name for herself amongst the kindred as a manipulator and favour-seeker, if she wanted anything, she got it, be that through her vast network of contacts, or her individual benefactors (both human and Kindred alive), She lived in Paris for some years, rooting herself deep within the fashion world as it sprung into life, finding companionship amongst the designers of old, and eventually those of new. Upon arrival in Britain she began working her way up the social ladder, and has once again found a throne as the Toreador’s Primogen, after the last mysteriously disappeared, reportedly exodized with many other Kindred, some believe that other methods were employed to leave an opening for Ameline to take. Nonetheless, She is a dutiful member of the Council, when it is in her interest to be so, and with such a small number of Kindred around, is able to see to the fact that her wants are voiced, rather than that of her diminished clan. Embrace: Embraced by Count Bronski. Birthplace: Moscow Family/Relationships: No family that is living. Friends: Numerous, some are closer than others. Enemies :Few, she tries to keep in everyone’s good books and has so far succeeded, on a public scale at least. Current Nationality: Russian (British citizenship) Current Place of Residence: London.

It's up at last, yay :dance: Apologies for not posting, I've been really busy as of late, and the little free time I've had, has been spent playing VTMB rather than paying the slightest bit of attention to the Rp forum- Which also links into the fact that after playing, I've got a new Idea for a character I'd like to play, well, more a revamped (pardon the pun) version of an older character of mine. :tongue: I'll get the sheet up after discussing things with our supreme overlord, then I should be posting :thumbsup:

I have posted- apologies for it's dull nature, but I have not the concentration for anything more at the moment.

"It has been the greatest of honour to travel with you, Redoran. May the divines and the daedra smile upon you friend. Forgive my ineptitude, but my eve as a warrior has long since passed. With this, I have fulfilled my duty of vengeance, and my soul may rest easy. But for now, I shall assist the town of Whiterun, before returning to Cyrodiil. Thank you again, Adrynn." She bowed with a smiled, and turned to walk away. "Thank all of you." ------ The black queen chuckled amusedly as the Imperial quipped his witty remark, with a smile she retorted "Old crone? Wherever did you get the idea that was what I wished to present myself as?" Watching the man leave the smile faded from her face and she returned down the void from which she came.

Indeed, let us start the party or what have you :dance:

"Hey! I said stop you heathen!" Aurora rushed out of the tavern in pursuit of the hooded gentleman, rushing past the brothers whom the man had knocked, she nearly fell while slipping on spilt ale, but carried on nonetheless. Catching sight of the man rushing off into the street, she pursued, blade drawn and a look of anger apparent on her face. ----- "My... I never thought I would see such a power in use. Consider yourselves either exceptionally lucky or blessed by the gods... Lady Rhaine is not so lenient in most cases, and shall certainly not be so in the future; I suggest you do as she requests, lest your existences be cut short." With that Xallistine too turned and walked from the room. ---- "Your coffin? Ah, yes they'll take care of that." She said hurriedly, gesturing back to the wardrobe as she rushed from the bedroom. "I must contact my Lord, Quarylene... prepare yourself and await me near my throne, we shall see to the death of a priestess of two."

OMG! YAY!!! :dance: Here is my first sheet, my other should be done soon enough :sweat: Nice sheet Auri, I like it :devil: GENERAL INFORMATION: Name: Viola Harbridge Gender: Female Race: Caucasian True Age: 190 Apparent Age: 49 Religion: Agnostic Clan: Ventrue Clan/Bloodline/Covenant Disciplines: ​Dominate, Fortitude, Presence. Haven: 1. Campden Hill. APPEARANCE: Height: 5’9 Weight: 90lbs Hair: Grey-tinged platinum blonde, styled in a modern take of a retro bob. Eyes: Brown. Skin: Pale white Handedness: Right Scars/Tattoos: None of either. General physical description: Viola has rather prominent cheekbones and sunken cheeks, a long but elegant nose and thin lips. Her eyes are large and open, her eyelids slightly hooded and her eyebrows thin and proudly arched. She has a narrow forehead that is free from deep lines. Her jawline and chin are strong and proud, framing her face to give her a look of strong and icy confidence. Her makeup is always the same, dark eyeliner that is not too thick, a light dusting of silver eyeshadow, and a very slight rose lipstick. Voice: Mature, relatively deep and feminine and tinged with a prominent upper-class British accent, her every word is crisp and clear, while remaining ever soft and contained. She is incredibly well-mannered and polite to those who matter, and retains her polite but icy demeanour with those of lesser standing. While enraged she does not scream nor shout, but lowers her tone and speaks as softly as ever, leaning in close, she knows this intimidates people far more than a hissy fit. Clothing: A woman of both means and fashion, she dresses in not the runway collections themselves, but the immediate ready-to-wear collections that follow, choosing designers such as Dior, Chanel and Hermes she likes to keep herself looking fresh and conservative, favouring darker shades and flattering shapes, she never parades more than her shoulders in evening wear and her lower legs in day-wear. She has a love for high heels, while certainly no purveyor of bizarre haute monstrosities; she has a wardrobe fit to rival Anna Della Russo in both footwear and clothing. Visual appearance: PERSONALITY: General Personality Traits: Assertive, dominating and Icy, Viola has many a trait universally associated with greedy and conscious-less business people; She is cut-throat, both metaphorically and literally should the situation come to it when dealing business, rigidly set in the old Ventrue ways of dignitas and a firm believer that coming from well-blooded families can make all the difference. She is aloof, arrogant when faced with lesser obstacles, and proud of both her lineage and her standing in the hierarchy of things. She is a perfectionist who scorns mediocrity and expects results before she raises her hand to click her fingers. She has a tactful mind and keen perception of events, while not as keen to stand back and watch chaos unfold as others in the Camarilla are, she can only act within her power, and in a manner she deems will strike deepest without causing a backlash. If she must remove a mortal business rival it is through espionage and assassination. If freezing a rival tycoon’s bank account is not enough, then perhaps the tragic accident his wife suffered on the highway that morning will be enough to drive him to drop from the market. In such a respect she could be considered evil, but in truth she simply does not care to waste resources when an emotional shattering costs nothing. It is no secret in Kindred society that she holds the Jack in a game of crazy-eights, having just enough sway to shift the suit when the cards don’t match her hand. However that Jack’s usefulness is only apparent when the others are out of play, money can get one so far in Kindred society, but if another of the damned wishes her ill too badly, no amount of mortal currency can divert the flow of hatred. She is not a creature of joy and happiness, incapable of small-talk and always focused on the task at hand, she is a brutal taskmaster and puts business before all else. Fears: Fear is a world rather different to Kindred than it is to mortals, when one becomes a creature of horror it is hard to scream at the sight of spiders and dark woods. Losing her wealth and status is a fear shared with all Ventrue, but on a more personal scale she is very much afraid of Lupines, having seen many a companion torn to pieces by the relentless beasts, she knows an encounter with such a creature usually means the final death. Attitudes towards friends/strangers: Friends serve to stab you in the back, but allies are valued. Strangers do not exist unless mentioned to her, as far as she is concerned the other Kindred outside of her circles do not exist. Opinion of the world: Viola believes that the world is a fractured, broken and utterly corrupt bastion of evil, and seeks to exploit as much as possible. HISTORY: Past: Born in 1823 to British aristocrat Thomas Harbridge and his wife, Vivienne, Viola’s upbringing was one you would have expected. Luxury, education and safety were all hers to cling on to. After a failed marriage, she was left divorced and shamed by her family, finding solace in a businessman named Landon Everett, an American fellow who owned a successful tailor. This man eventually embraced Viola as she neared fifty years of age, having quickly caught on to how to run a business, he showed her the ropes of how the Ventrue worked, and the rest is history. Setting up a watch-making company around the time Rolex left London for Geneva, Finite had become a world-renowned brand a source of British pride in the years that lead up to 2013, currently the leading competitor and running head-to-head with Rolex, Finite has become a favourite among young and old business-people alike. To this day Viola works and lives in London, ruthlessly running her corporation from the dominating offices that loom over Canary Wharf. Embrace: Embraced by Landon Everett. Friends: She has a number of contacts and acquaintances, but no friends. Enemies: So far she has no true enemies, a few upstarts who wish her removed and a number of lesser kindred, but no one of note. Current Nationality: British. Current Place of Residence: London, England.