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Dalen Briggs

Under Construction

It's mostly done now. This update involved a lot of changes but I'm pretty happy with it now and I think few things will change from this point until the beginnign of the game. Quarioth

Dalen Briggs

“You build your empire while I build my self. In a hundred years we’ll see which one is still around.”

If you like him, Dalen is down to earth in a society filled with monsters fighting for some imaginary prize. If you don’t, he’s obviously in denial about some basic facts of vampire nature. Dalen Briggs took his undeath in stride, firmly rooted in the belief that no matter how much he changes he is still just himself. He gets a kick out of how much some vampires get caught up in undead drama and his sarcastic attitude occasionally rubs people the wrong way. Still, some people find it refreshing how Dalen has taken a purposeful step back from vampire scheming and just tries to live his life. While that option doesn’t truly exist for the kindred of Carcosa, Dalen is nonetheless more driven to improve himself than improve his station and tends to look at people on an individual basis rather than their political connections. Both a strength and a weakness Dalen is in constant flux between being a king in his own game and a pawn in others.

Description

“I’m six foot one, brown eyes and midnight black hair. I like long walks on the beach, fistfights and human blood.”

Dalen Briggs is a little over six feet and has a strong, muscular, build. His brown eyes usually seem to be laughing at life but there is a feral strength hidden within. While he sometimes throws on a rental tux for formal events he usually is seen with a faded, heavy overcoat. More often than not he's got a cigarette in his mouth and sports the lingering scent of smoke.

Common Knowledge

• Dalen Briggs is a Gangrel
• Dalen Briggs is a member of the Ordo Dracul and can often be found running errands for them ranging from delivering messages to guarding locations and people important to the covenant
• Dalen Briggs is somewhat of a brawler. While very wary about situations with weaponry or serious threats he seems more than willing to trade unarmed blows with kindred and mortals alike, though mostly mortals after an unfortunate incident with a vampire who took the match too seriously and ended up in a frenzy.
• Dalen Briggs usually hangs out in pool halls and bars where things don’t feel so socially cramped and he has a decent chance to watch or participate in a friendly fight.
• When Dalen is found in a more formal environment it is usually accompanying Xaviera Vallejo. In less formal environments the two have a reputation of getting more fun out of life than the Damned have a right to do.

Ordo Dracul Common Knowledge

• Dalen Briggs declares himself a Scribe of Burning Terror
• Dalen Briggs studies perhaps best categorize him as a Theosophist. While he has yet to finish his thesis “The Absent Soul and The Corpse Puppet” he will explain the basics of his theory to anyone who sincerely wants to know and doesn’t laugh if his Gangrel blood makes him lose his train of thought.
• Dalen Briggs is more independent and less disciplined than a Dragon ideally ought to be. While he acknowledges Dragon hierarchy he reacts much better when asked instead of ordered and speaks his mind to superiors more often than one ought to do. Overall it seems that the Ordo Dracul is more of something Dalen does than something he is. On the other hand, his apparent lack of political ambition makes him a safe and useful tool for those who outrank him. This, combined with his willingness to fill in boring duties like guarding the Chapterhouse or maintaining its geomantic arrangements, means Dalen has a fairly accepted place in the Ordo Dracul as too useful and accomplished to kick out but too independent to advance within the ranks.

Lineage

“Most people who lose their families don’t get a second chance. Lucky me.”

Xaviera Vallejo, Carthian - alive

• Dalen Briggs, Ordo Dracul - alive

Quick Summary

“My life in a nutshell? Pretty easy. Just call the nut Carcosa, assume it carries the plague, drench it in blood and then light it on fire.”

1943-1968

Born in Carcosa. Loses part of his family in a fire. Ends up with an indomitable will and a tendancy to seek out friendly conflict in sports and occasional fights to prove himself. Finally achieves his dream to work as a firefighter.

1968-1973

Embraced by the Gangrel Xaviera Vallejo. Although he finds himself well suited to his wild and occasionally mischievous Sire he nonetheless finds little of interest in the politics of the Carthians. Instead finds himself drawn to the Ordo Dracul. Fortunately this has little effect on his new family relationship with Xaviera

1973-1982

Taken on as a pupil by Theodore Marks and as part of his apprenticeship helps the Ordo Dracul gather data on the plague.

1982-1995

Masters his first coil. However, due to the ensuing paranoia and chaos of Consilium mandates and inter-covenant murders Dalen is assigned to near permanent Ordo Dracul guard duty. Theodore Marks leaves Carcosa for safer climes and most of Dalen’s other attempts to find a Mentor get put off until “Things are a bit calmer”, since Gangrel’s learn things so darn slow and in a time of tension it wouldn’t do to have valuable resources tied up in the slow and sometimes debilitating process of teaching coils. Thus left to his own devices Dalen begins a personal study of the soul, the life death transition and the nature of spirits. Decides that any hope of transcendence lies in pushing his body not only with coils but also with physical improvement and the development of his supernatural powers. A definite focus on Protean emerges for the simple reason that it produced the most obviously spectacular results.

1995-2004

Finally convinces Alexander Castillo to teach him a second coil in a relatively peaceful lull. Although after all his hard work he is still only considered a passable scholar he nevertheless becomes a fixture in the Ordo Dracul for his work as a guardian and his willingness to keep track of little chores while the serious scholars get immersed in their work. His position is solidified in the guerilla warfare of 1999, during which the Ordo Dracul learned the strategic and psychological benefits of having one of the city’s few Gangrels hanging around to “explain” and occasionally “demonstrate” why it was vitally important that the Ordo Dracul not be molested in its studies. While few, if any, kindred or ghoul deaths are attributed to him it is generally accepted that Dalen, and by extent the entire Ordo Dracul, can’t be messed with lightly.

2004-Present

Now that things look a little more stable Dalen has slipped back into spending more time on “fun” activities and less time trying to half-bluff pulling himself off as an unstoppable Ordo Dracul guardian, though he is still on perpetual call for whatever his covenant needs. Between his rigorous self-improvement plan and keeping up with his studies Dalen spends a lot of time with the gangrels he sees almost like his family. But peace never lasts and Dalen finds himself half preparing for and half dreading the inevitable day when the Ordo Dracul calls once again looking for a defender, or worse, a soldier.

Excerpts from Dalen Briggs life, as written by him as part of a memory excercise

1943

We lived in a little hole in the wall apartment, but it was the home of my earliest memories. But only the earliest because one day it caught fire. Dad was still at work and Mom was a couple floors door seeing if anyone had any spare sugar. I was playing in the kitchen and sis was in the parent’s room in her playpen. When the building started filling up with smoke I did what Mom had taught me to do and ran outside as fast as my little legs could carry me. Sis was too little to follow suit. By the time Mom realized what was happening it was too late. When the fire department showed up it was way way too late. If I had been just a little older Brittany’s death might have traumatized me like it did Dad, who started drinking more than ever. But as it was it left me more frustrated then anything. It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault that sis was gone, but it still wasn’t fair. I think it was that day that I ended up with a personal vendetta against fire.

1968

While firefighting isn’t exactly a public show the truth is we were pretty used to people coming out and staring at us. It didn’t get weird until I noticed the same person showing up to watch multiple fires. A little while later she introduced herself as Xaviera Vallejo, bit me in the neck and made me part of this warped little after dark party. I’ll admit I wasn’t that happy with it at first, what with losing my job, girlfriend and the sun all at once. But after a little while the truth is it was kind of fun, in a twisted perverse way, to live the vampire life with Xaviera.

1973

As much fun as Xaviera is it looks like most of the other bloodsuckers here in Carcosa fall into one or more of three groups. “Creepy”, “Crazy” and “Stuck-up”. It started with a group of people called the “Carthians” who Xaviera hangs out with. They tried to get me to join their overthrow the government club. After I refused all the other groups descended like sharks. No bliss O blue cheese, dead gods, living gods, and who knows what else. Made the presidential debates look tame. I was just about ready to give up on all of them when someone made an interesting comment about a way around all these annoying undead secret weaknesses. Ordo Dracul, he said. I thought it was worth a try, though I can’t say I enjoyed all the crap they put me through to just consider me ready of working with them. I mean, it’s not my fault my high school didn’t offer “Occult Basics” as an elective course.

1982

Things are kind of in a lull right now. Vampires have quit disappearing and it looks like political bashing is the game of the year. In this relative peace Theodore finally decided to finish (give up on?) teaching me and introduced me to the Chrysalis and Coils. After so much time focused on meditation, study and what not I thought this would be a calm, mostly mental process. Instead it apparently involved burns, flash bombs, sleepless days and, oddly, taking up smoking. There were some Latin phrases he made me repeat all the while too. “Ego sum meus own vinco”. I was feeling more beat up than I ever had in my life, including that one time in 9th grade when I tried to… never mind. That’s another story.

But in the end, it worked, which is a good thing because I was on the verge of punching Theodore in the face and walking out on the whole Dragon thing. But on that day, Theodore didn’t come in with in a lighter. Instead he slowly explained that he was going to help me enter a deep trance and that while I was in it I would have to change, I would have to find the part of me that didn’t fear the flame and bring it out. I started relaxing and soon it felt like I was floating in a big dark ocean. It took me a while to remember why I was there and then I slowly started looking around, looking for peace, looking for power. And I found it. There, deep down, on the opposite side of this vast darkness, was something that felt like a giant well of pure energy that made me feel all alive. It was so very far away from the place where I came from, so I started to dig it a path through the darkness, forge a little connection between the fountain and what I vaguely recalled as the world. But before I could get more to flow than the barest little trickle I felt something else in the black ocean with me. Something hungry. The very thing that I was here to fight against. And it wanted out. While I had been busy it had been working its way to the surface. I could feel myself drifting deeper as it gained more and more power. It would have been so easy to just let it go and sink down, go straight to the fountain itself. And then I heard it. That dumb phrase that I’m never going to forget in a hundred years. Ego sum meus own vinco. And with it came all the memories of the drive for success that had sent me down into the depths in the first place. I felt myself shooting up through the darkness, passing the snarling beast and breaking free mere moments before it did. I opened my eyes and saw Theodore staring at me with a sword in his hand. “I am not a slave anymore,” was all I said. He set down the sword, and smiled.

1987

The Consilium showed up again and decided it would be fun to relocate all the supernatural’s in the city. A lot of bloodsuckers with big fancy houses or set hunting patterns were pretty ticked off. I just packed what few belongings I had and found a new house. Crisis avoided. Sadly, I had a different one.

In what I guess you could call a mid death crisis I found myself wondering again and again about certain doubts that I had about my own self. They weren’t new doubts, but I had been pushing them back for a while. Mainly, I wondered if I still had a soul. I wondered what a soul was. I wondered if they were real. And so for the first time ever I cracked a book open because I wanted too, not because I had too. And things got out of hand from there. One book lead to another, which lead to another and somewhere along the line I started learning foreign languages so I that I could get at even more books. It was just plain addicting and if I didn’t have these stupid African drums beating in my head all the time I may have just ended up like all the other genuine intellectuals of the Ordo Dracul. As it is, I feel like I’m on to something but every time I start getting somewhere it seems to slip away. But no problems. It’s not like I’m in a hurry.

1993

Some people really just need to lighten up. Take this Kien Zhao guy for instance. He lost a lot of money trying to turn a swamp into some sort of real estate killing but millions of dollars later the things still a big wet hole in the ground. And so the next time I follow Xaviera to elysium I see him and it's obvious the whole mess is bugging him. So I say, "Nobody wins everytime. Look on the bright side, you probably flooded the labor force with enough extra funds to stop a recesion. That's noblesse oblige right there." A normal person would have at least tried to laugh here, and then I'd go buy them a beer. Kien, on the other hand, flipped and probably would have tried to kill me if he hadn't thought that would damage his reputation even more. But honestly, can't these people just learn to accept their mistakes and move on? Kien's the Prince now, so it's obvious losing all that money wasn't a career crusher. I think that's what bothers me the most about the Invictus, always pretending that they're perfect. And now the Prince keeps giving me veiled dirty looks everytime I show up in public. Probably thinks I'm going to say something dumb again, which I might if he really deserves it. I mean, he's pulling off Prince well enough but I can't say I like that attitude.