The Lurkers' Domain

Name: Kayla Peyton
Nature: Coquette
Generation: 5th

Player: DB
Demeanor: Profound
Haven: The Gables

Chronicle: Carpe Vegas
Clan: Toreador
Concept: Intellect

Sire: Secret Royalty
Age: Unknown
Apparent Age: 27

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
-Attributes-

Physical:
-Strength-> 2
-Dexterity->5
-Stamina-> 3

Social:
-Charisma-> 3
-Manipulation->3
-Apperance->4

Mental:
-Perception->3
-Intelligence->5
-Wits->4

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
-Abilities-

Talents:
-Alertness-> 3
-Athletics->2
-Brawl->2
-Dodge->1
-Empathy->1
-Expression->3
-Intimidation->1
-Leadership->5
-Streetwise->3
-Subterfuge->2

Skills:
-Animal ken->3
-Crafts->5
-Drive->4
-Etiquette->5
-Firearms->2
-Melee->2
-Performance->4
-Security->4
-Stealth->5
-Survival->3

Knowledges:
-Academics->5
-Computer->2
-Finance->3
-Investigation->2
-Law->2
-Linguistics->5
-Medicine->5
-Occult->4
-Politics->2
-Science->5

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
-Advantages-

Backgrounds:

Disciplines
Medicine ___ 5
pharmaceutics___ 4
Connoisseur___ 3
Domination___ 4
Sorcery___ 4
Mysticism___ 3
History___ 5

Virtues
Conscience/Conviction____ 2/3
Self-Control/Instinct____ 5 /4
Courage__________________ 4

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Merits/ Flaws:

Humanity/Path:
(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

Willpower:
(X)(X)(X)(X)(X)(X)(X)(X)(X)(X)
[X][X][X][X][X][X][X][X][X][X]

Blood Pool:
[X][X][X][X][X][X][X][X][X][X]
[X][X][X][ ][_][_][_][_][_][_]

Health:
Bruised []
Hurt -1 []
Injured -1 []
Wounded -2 []
Mauled -2 []
Crippled -5 []
Incapacitated []

-------------------------

Background/History:

Her story begins in the first century BC, during the Pre-Roman Gallia period. A poor vagabond she was, born to a prostitute mother and an alcoholic middle class sailor merchant in the tribe of Veneti by the Bay of Biscay, nowadays called Vannes and part of Bretagne, France. Disowned and abandoned by her father, Añia was forced to a life of poverty and misery. Raised in the streets, she learned to be slick, quick, and witty having to steal the occasional bread to be able to survive. A savage with a desire to learn the culture, she often dreamed of being part of the court, but in her times that was little and far from possible. By the age of 10 her mother found use for her as Añia was an early bloomer. Every night she was auctioned off to the men in the streets for little more than what is now a penny, for their perverse pleasure.

Añia had it rough, eventually breaking away form the claws of prostitution, she ran into the forest to look out for herself.Now in the darkness and dangers that lay ahead, her only refuge were the animals who seemed to respond to her once existing innocence.

In rags and completely covered in soil an old man captured her seeing the promise of selling her as a slave to his master, Baron Dimitrius du Coeur. Dimitrius was by a nature an obscure and degenerate man who found pleasure in the torture of the less fortunate. A tall, pale, and dark haired man he was stunning and charming and had his way with the ladies of his choosing as well as the manliest of men. An irrisistible archfiend who had no idea he was about to meet the match of his longlasting live.

Halstat his old but loyal servant was in the woods trying to find virgins for his master for the small price of a few small golden nuggets, when he came across Añia. All covered in soot from the night's camping fire he grabbed her and made her his prisoner. Even in rags this lady must surely be of his master's taste, he thought just like he did of the rest. Now, on his way to the village, the old tired horses could no longer travel and Halstat came to a halt by some quiosks to buy some drinks and food, for both him and his horses.

She found herself cative in a wooden cage with an iron lock the size of an iron cauldron. With no way out, she quickly lost hope, but the fire in her eyes still burned with rage and scorn. This old man, whatever her fate, was to die a most painful death.

The night grew closer. Their pace was hasty and the old man grew weary of nightfall. Admiring the dance of her tender breasts up and down as the wagon advanced and hit rocks on their paths, he called the horses to halt and approached Añia's cage side. The other ladies watched as he opened her door and ripped what little clothing she had left. He figured Baron Dimitrius wouldn't notice her amongst the many ladies he held confined. He was afterall a lonely old man who bid every dirty secret his master desired.

But as he removed his ragged pants and inserted himself forcibly within her, Halsat had signed his death sentence for the distinct odor of his trail was to be left all over her body. There she lay, unable to speak or utter the slightest of words. She took it like she did any of the men her mother forced her to screw. His rotten filthy smile was engraved in her mind, his dry lips smelling of liquor ravaged her body, nibbling, and biting her flesh as he took more of her for his liking. Quietly sobbing, the rest of the girls kept quiet, just watching and glad that it wasn't one of them the old rotten bastard chose to rape and abuse. As he was done he commanded her to put her clothes back on, then spit on her face and managed to wheeze a laugh off his tired old lungs.

For a few more hours they traveled until a gigantic black iron gate was reached in the middle of the woods. It slowly opened without questions being asked and the guards standing by holding gruesome weapons, let the wagon pass. That tired old fool of a man, hunched in his seat lashing the off brown and greyish horses into the castle, full of beautiful virgins for his master and lord was the envy of the deprived guards. They saw but never touched, they coveted, but always remained frigid....for an inch of emotion would find them like the rest of the men in the dungeons.

Bewildered, the girls were frightened of their surrounding sites. Black hooded men, tourturing and killing people. Blood flowed like thristy raging rivers through the cemented floors. Anguished screams uttered from every poor soul being punished. Their torment would frighten even the dead.

The doors opened, the carriage came to a stop. A group of old maids came to their aid, covering their bodies with ivory sheets as they, one by one, got off the wooden cages. All except Añia left. She sat there staring into space. Halsat yelled at her but nothing happened, instead her glance hardened, and just as he was about to lash her with the same whip he lashed his animals, Dimitrus grabbed his arm and prevented him from hurting her further by breaking his arm into pieces. Lashing the girls, once his and while in his estate was something he would not tolerate, especially not from a worthless bastard like Halsat.

to be continued...