Ruri's Faekat Directory 2.0

[Ruriska]

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[Ruriska]

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[Ruriska]

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[Ruriska]

getting too close to page 2 and i'm far too lazy for that so up u go  

[Ruriska]

Vampire’s Name: The Hag
Vampire’s Personality:

She was beautiful once, as many of them were. Taken from the streets and twisted by the Nosferatu blood. Though unlike many who once had their looks, she considers her rebirth into unlife as a great boon. As a mortal, she was weak, used as an object, her life spent at the whim of others, barely scraping by. But she was lifted up by her Sire and granted strength and eternity.

The brood she was brought into was the Galloi, the Pretties, worshippers of the Crone, their rituals allowing them to take the form the Nosferatu were meant to lose forever. They bathed and became beautiful, although she became well-known for refusing the bath, unless it was for certain means. Her beauty would only be worn as a mask.

Over time her true name was forgotten. She was simply known as The Hag. Cruel when necessary but surprisingly benevolent, loyal to her brood and her chosen. Her knowledge of old rituals and ceremonies, of herbs and spells, seemingly limitless. Even to mortals, she offers her knowledge, seeing her old long-lost self in them.

She has little patience for males (finding most of them distasteful and boorish) but for females, especially young ones, she acts as a mentor, often taking in the poor wretches, offering them succor and a better unlife.

Your Elder is selecting a candidate for Embrace. How do they do so?:

The Hag has a preference for young females, those who are suffering, on the streets, homeless, abused, mistreated. She offers her time and her blood to them, a way out. She doesn’t tell them of the blood baths, of the other power she can give them. No, they must be ready to give their beauty up, to choose strength instead. She also offers them vengeance, against those who wronged her. If they refuse, she leaves them be or simply puts them out of their misery. But they rarely refuse.  

[Ruriska]

Vampire’s Name: Zalaam
Vampire’s Personality: A blade forged by the Banu Haqim, Zalaam is the embodiment of the clan. He is a scholar and a guardian but he is also a killer. He has shed countless blood, all in the name of peace and mercy. He is cold steel, as equally unmoved by both death and life. Ever since he awoke from his long sleep, he had returned to his work, slaying any who have lost their path, gone to the Beast or their own foolishness. He has very little interest in other clans, they are but chattering birds to him, inane, useless, squawking and squabbling. To his own clan, he shows something more. He guides them, offers them protection, shows them how to strike true. He is the calm within the storm, endlessly patient, always controlled.
Motivations and Goals: Zalaam’s sole motivation is to continue the work his clan has done for a millenia. They stand apart from the other clans, though it is their hands that are the dirtiest. When a vampire turns to madness and the beast, they are the ones who stalk them down. If their god requires an assassin’s art, they are the ones who strike. He has no political ideals or any desire to enter clan politics but he does want the world of vampires to know that they still remain and their blades are still sharp. To Grendel alone he shall bend a knee and in doing so the path of the blade will become holy.

Prompt Response:

Where did the blade end and he begin? That was the question Zalaam asked himself, whenever he was on the hunt. There was no clear answer. To do what he did, to stalk the night with death in his heart and in his hand, he had to become that which he wielded. He was the steel, the strike, even the blood. He was the shadows he stepped from, he was the last gasp that they gave. He was fear and he was mercy. He was the True Death.

He was his clan personified into one form, unstoppable, unflappable. When he moved it was with purpose and his purpose would always be realized. He had not failed. At least, not in a few thousand years or so. But that was before he had been forged, turned into the weapon he was now. And even with the clan scattered, eons old vampires lost to torpor, sent to their long sleep, he remained.

So it didn’t surprise him when the god sought him out, though his knowledge of such matters was deliberately vague. Of course, he knew that Grendel was out there, a new guardian of the clans, ruler of them all. But he had paid no attention to the uproar it had caused, the political jockeying, the other clans no doubt reinforcing their numbers and trying to appeal to him for whatever cause they desired.

Zalaam had no need for such machinations. But all the same he’d known this moment would come eventually. Even if he was further down the list, one day the god would visit. Because it was the Banu Haqim that helped clean up the messes the others made. They were the blade that wiped clean their mistakes.

He was the blade.

The vampire he had been stalking saw nothing, useless in their frenzy, consumed by the Beast. He launched forward, so fast he was hardly even a blur, out of the shadows, slammed his hand down on one shoulder, claws digging down and digging deep, pulling the other vampire into his blade, unerringly straight into its heart. Instantly paralyzed, it stood in his grasp, his hand and blade slick with vitae.

“Wight,” he murmured, to the pitiful creature that had been so consumed by bloodlust, “I bless you with your final death.”

Then their blood he took, forcefully, every last drop.

The tainted vitae of a beast.

Such was the burden of the Banu Haqim, to do what others found repulsive, to cleave, to strike, to suffer. To know that there was no line that they would not cross to protect the masquerade and destroy the madness that lurked beneath every vampire, just waiting to escape.

He drank until he held nothing but a pale husk, that he lowered to the ground, hacking off the head with one strike of his blade.

That was where Grendel found him, golden eyes catching the moonlight, gleaming from beneath his hood. Zalaam stood at ease, holding the head, his proof of a completed hunt, by the hair. He said nothing, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. Just watched the god and when the other left, he too turned to leave.

When the god returned, it was to a very different scene.

Hot tea, cushions, comfort. Though Zalaam seemed very much the same, even with his hood back and gentle music playing from some unseen source. He was as unflustered and at peace here as he had been chopping off a head. It was all the same thing, he figured. He was always a blade, regardless of whether he was sheathed or not.

Slowly and with care, he poured tea into the second cup.

“We will serve,” he said to the god. “As we always have. Now in your name and no other.”  

[Ruriska]

Owner Username: Ruriska
Tell us a bit about your RP style: A little bit of this and a little bit of that! I like humour, I like cute character interactions, I like blood, some drama, some despair. I can do short snappy one line replies and then larger more detailed stuff.
Which Kat are you trying for in this entry? Roadie
Proposed name of Kat: Chance
Why does this particular character appeal to you?: Have you seen him? He’s cute, he’s charming, he’s got a big head of hair, he’s got so much character potential!

Personality of Kat:

Chance is pretty easy-going for a vampire roadie, often described as steady as a rock. Dependable and seemingly kind-natured, though he has absolutely no qualms with removing some of the more enthusiastic fans from the vicinity should they start to annoy the band. His humor is generally dry and he’s the kind of dude who chuckles at his own jokes. If you ask him about his life before the band, he shuts it down immediately and will give the cold shoulder or redirect the conversation. Overall, he brings a sanity to the group that otherwise wouldn’t exist. When tempers flare or things get a bit wild, he’ll step into the middle, completely unflappable and sort it all out. If they’re the dazzling rainbow, he’s the sun shining through the rain, helping them stand out and show their talents.

How do they feel about Clanned Vamps and other Clanless Vamps: He makes an effort not to socialize with any clanned vampires unless it’s for the sake of politeness, finding the whole system flawed and nasty. Nobody has managed to dig into his past but if they did, they would find his earliest memories marred by the results of clan wars, fights that have come and gone from memory, those lost forgotten and turned to dust. He vows that his unlife will be for his enjoyment and his real clan is the band, his own chosen family.

Relationship to the Band:

It’s a well-known story that the band’s first introduction to Chance was during one of their earliest shows, where after some issues with the speakers and tech, the tall and lanky horse approached with a casual ‘allow me’ and sorted it out after a quick bit of tinkering. On every subsequent performance, he would always appear just when they needed him to and when questioned about his excellent timing, he would always shrug and say, ‘just chance’.

Eventually even the regular groupies and fans noticed he was there more often than not and didn’t question when he helped out with something or moved some of the heavier equipment. When someone finally bothered to ask his name, he replied, “Chance is fine.”

After a while, he was indeed just Chance and known to be a dependable member of the group. He has a great deal of respect for all of the band members, clearly enjoying their music and working hard to make sure each performance goes off without a hitch.

He offers his time to the band as not just a roadie but also a shoulder to lean on and someone always willing to take time out to listen to you rant or cry or just to hang out. He’s never asked for anything in return... well, except for that one time, when they were all a little bit tipsy, well-fed on blood and he requested that they pierce his ears. Two on each ear. One for each of them. A permanent reminder of their bond.

To him, they’re family.

And he’ll do anything for family.  

[Ruriska]

NONNA SUPER SECRET BACKSTORY

SO I HAVE BEEN THINKING about Nonna
And how she would be from the main family line long ago and her and her twin both had a partner and children and grandchildren.
Then one day Augustus or another old vampire long gone gave them both a choice and Nonna (not actually her real name) said yes and her sister said no.

So nonna was turned and both their deaths were staged.

So maybe her first feed and then kill was her sister. The body was kept below and so was Nonna.
Then once anyone who would remember them was gone, Nonna would reappear
And this would happen regularly because she often deals with the mortals of the families, she had to 'die ' every few generations lol
And she just lives in the catacombs
When she got strong enough, she called forth her sister's wraith.
So Nonna had many many grand grand grand grand relations haha
But never had children as a vampire.
She might have Sired one tho 🤔 i might quest for a great great grandchild who looks a lot like one of her kids did or something  

[Ruriska]

Transcend the Veil of Death..
Owner Username: Ruriska
Tell use a bit about your RP style: I'm a sucker for evil characters doing nasty things, assholes, demons. Love some drama and powerplays! Gimme that twisted loyalty to the bitter end! Got no issues with blood and gore! I love short sharp RP replies but can type a lot in the right situation!
What is your favorite thing about the Kuei-Jin and why are you excited to play this character: Eastern vampires who hate normal vampires and are ruled by a hottie Queen and her Dragon? What’s not to like? Also just the concept of the Kuei-Jin is really neat. They’re vampires seeking a higher path, dealing with their Dharma and transcending. They’re nicely complicated.
Ebon Dragon's Personality: As the yin to His Queen’s yang, the Ebon Dragon is the ice to her fire. He’s a shadow cast by her flame, slinking, sly, calculated. Everything he does is with purpose. He is no stranger to violence, a self-appointed hunter of chin-mei and guardian of the Kuei-jin values.
What's his view of the world: His Queen he swears unflattering loyalty to. She is his beginning and his end. When she says jump, he jumps. It isn’t a question of how high, he already knows. He's fiercely protective but knows that she’s more than capable on her own. Her word is law. As she burns bright, he lurks in her shadow, ever watchful.

The Kuei-jin are his world. He wishes only for them to seek enlightenment, for each and everyone to follow their dharma until they can move on. He is a heavy hand that sometimes helps lift them up or if they stray too far from the path, strike down without mercy. He has endless patience for those he knows are following their truth and none for who cannot control their base urges.

He looks upon the western vampires with disdain, lesser than beasts. Incapable of fighting their basic urges, despite possessing a higher mind. He has seen them revel in blood and death, ever-consuming, never seeking something more. They fell off the path and never returned to it. Instead they stalk the night, a menace that needs to be wiped out.

What are his motivations and goals: He wishes only for the ascendance of his own kind. He wants to watch his Kuei-jin to rise up, reach their dharma, to shed the last trappings of mortality and an earth-bound life, to see his kind rejoin the Great Cycle. And to honor his mate and queen, to bow to her every will.

Prompt Response:

Ever since he had slunk up from the dark depths at her behest, Ebon Dragon had been very busy. He marched at the heels of his Scarlet Queen, as the stray threads of the Kuei-jin were slowly woven back together. So many of their kin had lost their dharma, fallen by the wayside, no better than the common rabble that were the western vampires. When his Queen chose to rest, he hunted. His greatest talent, bringing death, as he sought the chin-mei who had run rampant during their long sleep, ending the miserable lives before they could stain the name of the Kuei-jin any further.

He would have liked to have done the same to the western Cainite’s. Foul blood-drinkers incapable of ascending to a higher purpose. Like pigs in the mud, rutting and feeding, careless and vile. They dabbled in powers they would never understand. Played with the dead, the shadows, the insane. It was of his opinion that they should all be put to death. They were not seeking a different way of being, could not consume chi or transcend. They were a blemish.

But whether they could go to war or not was something they would have to carefully consider. He was a quiet way, a calculating way. He wouldn’t condemn his kind to certain death on a whim. Which was why his Scarlet Queen had trusted him enough to give him a most important task.

And so he arrived, his wings outstretched, a massive hulking form, even in the world in-between. Ebon Dragon tasted the air and surveyed the world around him, a land of crumbling temples and fragile monuments. The world was washed out grey, strange forms suspended in the air, the sound of waves in the distance. A world caught between all others.

He knew the way instinctively, followed the path to worn marble steps that led up to an old temple, its deity long gone, faded away as their worshippers had stopped believing. It could happen to them. They’d slept too long.

Dragon halted in the doorway to the grand old hall, his figure taking up too much space in the doorway as he assessed what or rather, who, was within.

The Western Kin God looked far more tired than he would have expected of someone who had just usurped his father’s place. A prince made king before he was ready and far too many enemies snapping at his heels. Dragon’s mouth twitched, a small, private smile just for himself.

He paced further inside, stretched his wings again, before snapping them close to his body. “Grimmel,” he tested the name, rolling it out in his deep rumble. He followed his gaze to the offered chair but didn’t take it just yet.

His head tilted inquisitively and repeated the question that had just been posed, “what do you want?”

It was a good question. What did the Kuei-jin want? To see their enemies buried and forgotten, most certainly. To reach their dharma. To find enlightenment. There were many paths and many ways. Did they want war? Probably not. Not now. Not when they were so weakened.

Dragon laughed and finally he sat down, on the very edge of his seat, leaning forward, eyes gleaming. “I’ve come to see how big the mess you’ve inherited is. You have a lot of enemies, Little Prince."

He relaxed back a little, eyes half-lidded.

“Tell me what you want and maybe we can reach an understanding.”

He’d seen the state of the Kuei-jin. They would need time to rebuild. Until the time came for the balance to shift in their favour, they would not court violence. Ebon Dragon would play Grimmel’s game... for now.