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Kine
Alright, so my history. I was born in December of 1949, last bit of what they considered the World War II baby boom and all. Pops was a paratrooper with the 101st in the big war, you know Bastogne and all that? So when he came back, he settled down to the life of an auto assembly line worker in Flint, Michigan. So he settled down and raised a little family, with me being the youngest.
Growing up, I was the all American teen I suppose. I played varsity sports, street raced a bit, and of course chased the ladies. I had by parent’s good looks and a gift for singing that had me doing solos in the white bread church at an early age. So I fronted a couple of bands through high school, mostly trying to knock off Elvis and then headed onto college, to be all that my father couldn’t be and that sort of thing. So I graduated in three years and was promptly rewarded by the US government with a draft notice.
With my college background, I was sent to officer candidate school and then in 1971, I went to paratrooper school just like the old man and was assigned to the First Air Cav as a second lieutenant. I was an infantryman there and served two tours. So after my first tour, I signed on for another and that’s where I got into trouble I guess. A man shouldn’t spend that long under those conditions and I started to loose my patriotism, sense of duty, and hell, maybe even my soul a little; if you believe that sort of thing. I got introduced to some smoke over there and a few other things, and there were black out periods on the Ho Chi Minh trail. We’d get messed up go on a mission, and I can’t remember weeks at a time from those missions.
1973 rolled in and I came home. Oh the protests were getting ripe then. This is after Fonda did her Hanoi Jane routine and things were just messed up at home. Alright, I didn’t go all ‘Taxi Driver’ or anything, but I just couldn’t settle into a job or anything. Nine to Five just wasn’t me and the old man, the one I figured would understand the best, didn’t have a clue.
So the point is I floundered, kind of badly. I just couldn’t adapt very well, even using my college degree. The nine to five life was just not working out, plus I had this addiction. So, I worked as a bartender, bouncer, pretty much hanging around the bar scene and drifted south to Birmingham. It was easy work and I saw a lot of guys in my situation at those places. From mom I guess I got these looks that guys would give me hell for in the service and call me ‘pretty boy’, but it always helps with the ladies. When I would space off and lose my job, I could always shack up with some honey and crash at her place. Call it what you will, gigilo or boy toy, I don’t care. It was survival, and not all that bad if you know what I mean.
Embrace
When I switched over? I could tell you about that too. Her name is, was, Sophie de Chabot, originally from a small village in Normandy, France. It was late `75 and I had drifted over here to Atlanta by this time and was working in a strip joint downtown; a place called the Kitty Club. Sounds nice huh? Well, it was about as classy as it sounds and its gone now, a mercy killing by the city restorations in the nineties. So, I selling shots to losers and in walks the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She was tall, lithe, dark shoulder length hair and bright blue eyes. She had this air about her, that she was beyond it all. She was all that is class, beauty, breeding, and charm; and there she walked into this roach invested pit.
So she smiles this slow sexy smile and sits down and starts to talk, and for once in my life, I felt myself intimidated by a lady. Maybe that was why, she was a lady and for the past years I’d been slumming with trash; beautiful trash, but trash nonetheless. Well, anyways, it turns out that Sophie had some of her girls working at this place, we call them herd, and was looking for a snack. So that was about it on the first night, and she kept coming back, apparantly only when I worked. She owned the place too, I’d find out later, and also tapped into records on me and knew about the service. Thing is, she was so good at questioning, I had no clue that she was testing me with what she already knew.
We would up back at one of her places a few times and then I received an early Christmas present on Winter Solstice, December 22nd. She brought me in to the real club, the world that we’re in right now. My Sophie was something of a surprise for me, she was a lethal killer in her own right. See, Sophie was a special type of my blood called a Spina. And she kind of envisioned me as being a modern version of the same thing; noble warrior and all that even with my slip into drugs, booze, and whatnot. No, she said that the change would fix all that and that she was going to bring me back like, oh she had a flair for the dramatic, like “Lancelot returning”. Oh shut up kid, its not that funny.
Kindred, Early Nights
So we began our training, and while she was impressed with the way I could still use a rifle and pistol, she said I had to learn swords, knifes, and weapons along those lines. So our training began and went on for months and turned into over a year. Time kind of starts to run together after a while. She would talk quite a bit about the Invictus and all, but said that choices to join a covenant would be my own. She still held onto that Invictus was the only choice for any sane mind I guess, and that my blood would turn like hers and...domino effect really to bring me in. The thing is that hooking up in a covenant just wasn’t necessary in my thoughts. I was doing what I wanted to and getting the results without having to play the partisan role. Win, win.
So I learned court customs, and ‘proper’ etiquettes and the like and was introduced into Kindred Society. Late 70s in Atlanta Kindred Society was interesting. Old school blending with new and all set up in Carthian society. I think, though noone ever said it, that it was eventual that my dear sire was going to run into problems. It was 1982, two years after I was released, and there was a lot of talk going around about what was ‘proper’ kindred etiquette. It seemed that everyone was walking on eggshells around each other and that everything was boiling just under the surface. So Sophie was at one of her clubs that night, the "French Connection", I know the name, but it was targetted for a certain patronage. I was out of town, looking into an investment for Sophie in Savannah, had to do with shipping...anyways, these three guys were stereotypical sweaty pig bikers. They were loud, rude, and if not bad enough drug a mortal in and tossed her around before drinking her dry, right there in her own place. From what I hear, it happened so fast, and my Sophie sprang up and got in their faces. Oh, there was only one other kindred there that could be seen and I’ve heard rumors there was a hidden Nosferatu, but I’ve never heard one way or another in the definate on it. So the verbals go back and forth I guess, until one of them tries to grab Sophie on the tail end and reportedly said “settle down sweetcheeks or I’ll rub your ashes on my balls”, which as you can imagine, didn’t go over too well.
Sophie spun her blades on him quickly and diced him right on up. The other kindred, Derek something or other who left town right after giving his story to the Sheriff, did try to help and wound up torpored. So the story goes kind of fuzzy there, but a clanmate with the gift of sight got the impression that Sophie killed two and was finished by the last. Her ashes were found just outside the back doo that lead to the alley.
Kindred, Disenchantment and Revenge
We didn’t find the third guy or his remains when I got back. Being unaligned since I never signed on with the Invictus, though I’ve done some business with them and other covenants in the past, helped a lot because really no one would stand in my way of tracking this guy. So time went on and the trail ran cold. I continued my freelance deal and did some shady work on the side and even with the Sheriff once and a while. Until February 14, 1998, Valentines Day, thats the way things were. Oh we were having a little ball that night and it was crashed. Yeah, biker gang of Gangrel it turns out. We thought they were just asshole nomads until I heard the leader say something about, ‘too bad I ashed that french sword bitch last time, she’d be fun’. Two and two clicked pretty fast and I was moving like a tracer round at his nasty ass. Thing is, the party was held by a certain Ventrue who I will not state his name right now, and he caught my line of sight. A few words later, and I couldn’t move at him. The Hound was there and somehow convinced the boys to leave and after they were gone, I could move again.
Needless to say, I went after them. Their trail was fresh and they weren’t too concerned about hiding. Well, I called in a few favors and Petey Ford, Jonas Prior, and Kelly Williamson joined me on this one. We caught up with them just outside of town in this old landfill and it was on. Five on four of us, but we caught them off guard. Petey nailed one with a molotov, guy had nerves of steel, and he went up like a roman candle. I pulled my glad’ and pushed some blood, then we all closed in. Their leader, I heard somebody call him Ned; Ned, can you believe it? So I went after Ned and I suppose it was a lot like one of those saloon brawls in those western movies. Instead of John Wayne or Gary Cooper though, it was a bunch of kindred fighting with blades, guns, teeth, and claws. No words could really describe it. Poor old Jonas closed in first on his mark and I remember seeing a flash. The guy had pulled a sawed off shotgun and jammed it up under his chin when he charged. Instant final on Jonas with that. Damned shame really, he was alright, for a Nossie you know, good people.
Things went on and Kelly and Petey fared well for a while as I did the dance with my boy Ned. Oh, I remember smiling like a jack o lantern as I made that first swipe deep into his shoulder. See, I was trying to off his arm so I’d only have to watch one, and my blade bit deep but not a clean cut. He screamed and ripped me open with these nasty looking claws that he sprung. Jesus, it was like something out Jurassic Park, you know, like those velociraptor things? So I feel faint and we trade some shots and even with the me juicing up, this is one tough mother. I hear my mates behind me screaming and then no more from Petey either. Finally I catch Ned under the ribs with my glad and cut up, pushing more blood as I did. I must have lifted him two feet off the ground as I did, then finally, he went weak and started crumbling apart and fast too. He was an old one you know?
Thing is I was tore up bad, and falling fast. I knew torp was on me coming fast. I remember falling to the ground and finding Kelly laying there almost gone. Pretty girl, one of my blood... used to be a saloon girl in the old west; so I guess she had seen this whole kind of thing before, well you know what I mean. Then, I suppose her gift of resilience wore off and she was gone. I was the last one there and fading fast, so what could I do? Well, I gathered up everyone’s cells and identification that I could find and destroyed it. No evidence right? Couldn’t leave a breach or anything, and drove our car and pushed their bikes into that landfill lake that had formed. All clear on that front so I found me a little old cave and crawled deep inside. It was good and had this nice little natural crease deep inside that I forced my way into and it all crashed in easily. Couldn’t have been more perfect. I thought that I could sleep there since dawn was soon, get up and feed off some animal the next night and make it back to Atlanta. The thing is, I’d never tangled with a Gangrel before and didn’t realize how nasty those things really were. The next thing I know, its 2007. After I dug my way out, went glutton on some foxes and stray mutts at the landfill I managed to mug a guy about my size that was hitching on the road nearby, lucky there for me; and made my way back. Good thing the accounts still collect interest. So, I fixed my way back up and here I am tonight. Its been a week since I got back though, had to acclimate a bit to the times and get situated first; can’t bring attention to myself through being ‘dated’ of course, and here I am?
Any other questions bright eyes? No? Good, because I have some things to do now.
Kindred, The New Path
Alright, just a few more words since you asked so nicely. Since I woke up, I did some searching until this little Sanctified number clued me in on some things. It all started to click and after talking to my cousin, the Bishop DuPont that is, he set me on this new path. See, I've always known that I was a monster (a fine looking one, but still a monster), but now I have a purpose. Yes sir and ma'am, this kid is going places. The nights of wandering around loose and not rooted in are over.
The damned witches will pay. The ashing of DuPont was not avenged enough, and with Longinus' help, they'll all pay even more.