recursal/Fanatic-Fandom huggingface dataset:
Elena

**Elena** is a Homid-born Rokea.

## Biography

Born of a Rokea and his human mate, you were orphaned at birth, and trapped in Homid form until your First Change.

Obviously, you could not be taken before the public eye.

Living in the grotto wasn't so bad. You were harassed by some, but others always came to your aid and defended you when necessary.

You learned more about spirits and the Dirtwalkers than any of the others.

They were enamored with the physical beauty of technology and had to struggle to look past the glossy covering and meshed wiring within.

The insight came easy to you.

Now that you can shapeshift and blend in with human society, you have found how corrupt and pure the City can be.

You understand your purpose; you were sent to guide your people's spiritual path to fight the Dirtwalkers.

You've learned to connect with the spirituality of the Rokea. You of its Wyrm-hating side --- a huge monstrosity with clashing jaws, bellowing roars and black eyes --- and of its rough hide as well.

You learned long ago that appearances are important to spirits and you dress accordingly to attract their attention.

You have become accustomed to other members of your race complaining about your clothing selection and you always snap back with witty remarks or insults.

You don't work at containing the Shark within you as other Rokea do.

You work to free that energy from yourself and try to summon more.

You have tried to teach yourself how to ride on the very peak of the Sea without being swept under by it fury.

Take time to acquaint yourself to new environments. Look for spirit activity and check for possible problems.

Take time to free 'abused' spirits. It is your position to guide others to understand the spirituality of the City and the Sea, for much of this has become lost.

Rokea are spiritual creatures and you have been born a spiritual and slew leader among the Rokea.

Live up to your birthright.

**Equipment:** Skin piercings, tattoos, industrial jewelry, torn jeans, used clothing, boots, CD boom box, tool kit, spray paint, large magic markers, duct tape, weird magazines, motorcycle.
Sees-the-Waves

**Sees-the-Waves** is a Rokea.

## Biography

Sees-the-Waves was born in Tiger Beach in the Bahamas, though this may be unclear as he has kept his origins private from Sea and the world itself. He is the second-in-command to a Slew of Rokea who are unknown to Sea and Rokea.

## Personality

He talks little of his past making him very mysterious according to him humans are food to the Rokea and he and his slew make sure no one lives regardless if they are human or betweener. Mention of the Same Bito always make him angry and prone to violent outbursts and bloodshed. He is very neutral and it seems to delight him when killing humans and consuming them.

## Quotes

*"Humans are nothing but food before you."*

*"My past is not something you should know."*

*"I am beautiful."*
Swims-the-Surface

**Swims-the-Surface** is a Rokea tattoo artist.

Ref sheet

## Biography

Swims was born Homid and was given his 'Shark Name' by his father, a rokea. His life was going well as he got a job as a tattoo artist and was quite famous in the city until his life was savagely torn apart when the First Change happened. He frequently visits Sea and Unsea to continue his job as best he can living life as best he can.

## Personality

He is considered 'creepy' to some and 'always on the hunt' by many Rokea. Some consider him a 'traiter' since he is after all a betweener though some Rokea have learned to accept him. He is very sweet and kind to his closest ally's and family
Peyton

**Peyton** is a Rokea.

## Biography

It wasn't easy getting your degree. You studied hard and spent many long hours poring over lectures, theories and previously completed papers. At first, you thought that medical school was the way to go, but half way through premed, you decided that working as a surgeon's assistant was your calling.

You graduated with honors and were snapped up by one of the best hospitals in the city. It was a rush, being involved in life and death situations every day. But before long, your career became just a job. You began to feel that there was more to life than sterilizing scalpels after the daily hustle and bustle of OR. Your request to switch to the night shift was granted.

Maybe the increased activity in Emergency would give your career new meaning. That's when you noticed a particular surgeon. He has to live in the hospital, you thought, because you never saw him leave the building, not even after his shift.

A cloud of the typical hospital smells seemed to follow him wherever he went. He must be a bundle of nerves, too, because he never seemed to have much of an appetite. Funny thing, too, he never seemed to go anywhere without his OR mask. Actually, he never seemed to go anywhere but Emergency and the OR. Wonder what he looks like? You found out about three months later. It had been a particularly hard night, with several car accidents, a house fire and even a shooting. You were burned out, tired and frustrated. Surely there had to be something better... That's when your mysterious surgeon made his move. After he told you about the Rokea, he taught you the specialties only a Rokea can bring to the medical profession. Your life has new meaning now, and you can help people in new ways -- whether they need it or not.

To assist your mentor is your driving goal. His work means everything to you, and you will stop at nothing to further his and your experiments. Your grotto is in a forgotten corner of the hospital laundry room. Feeding is no problem -- there is blood in great supply both fresh and stored. You still keep up with your work in the OR. Maybe someday soon you'll be able to acquire a still-breathing victim for the doctor to work with. You are a professional surgical assistant. There isn't anything you don't know about an operating room. Given the chance, you could even perform some simple surgical procedures. You are meticulous about your surroundings both in private and on the job. You are efficient at what you do, which makes patients more comfortable when you are in charge. Many of the staff surgeons have requested that you be moved to their shift, but you sternly but politely refuse, saying you do your best work at night.

**Equipment:** Hypodermic needle, scrub clothes, mask, catheter, thermometer, rubbing alcohol.
Tana

**Tana** is a vampire from Clan Gangrel.

## Biography

You lived a relatively normal life, until recently.

You grew up in a world that didn't have room for things like vampires and werewolves.

The strangest thing that ever happened to you was having someone call you on the phone just as you were thinking of him.

Throughout childhood, high school and college, nothing about you stood out.

The only feature which separated you from your peers was your remarkable talent at crafting stories, a skill you share with hone but your closest friends.

So you grew up in uneventful fashion, happy with your place in the scheme of things.

Then, one night in college, you went to a party hosted by some artist friends.

You met a professional story teller there who spun the most amazing tall tales about the strangest beings.

You were also rather taken with the storyteller, which accounts for your agreeing to a date with a relative stranger.

After he brought you home, the two of you stayed up late, spinning stories and swapping tales until the themes turned to horror.

This was the one category he could top you in, and you sat with rapt fascination as the hours slipped away.

As dawn neared, you suggested he sleep at your apartment, and he agreed.

When you woke, however, it was the next night, and he had left.

Ever since then, your sleep cycle has been horribly messed up.

You find it impossible to wake up before the sun has set, and always go to sleep before day break.

Needless to say, your school work has suffered and your friends tease you about being a vampire -- something you know to be impossible.

You haven't the faintest idea what has happened to you.

As far as you're concerned, talking to the animals makes you Doctor Dolittle, not some kind of monster.

You may even have a Derangement that makes it difficult for you to remember exactly how you get your sustenance.

Your allies are your family --- the one place you have always been able to turn for solace.

You can do this either as a total innocent, in which case you may earn the enmity of your fellow players, or you may simply be "playing along" to find out what weird thing has happened to you.

In either case, you should use this character as a foil to point up the atrocities of the Kindred existence.

**Equipment:** From typical human pocket items to none whatsoever.
Winn

**Winn,** better known by her Shark Name **Winner-Of-Men** is a Rokea.

## Biography

You've always known you were beautiful. People have always been eager to tell you how attractive you are, and the ones who are envious of your beauty say that you've been spoiled by it.

You're the epitome of grace and style. The poems you artfully compose are reflections of your own beauty.

While you're modest about your poetry, you revel in your true talents.

Of course, it would be a shame if you didn't put that talent to good use.

As a Rokea, you know how to take advantage of the weaknesses of others, and loneliness is the worst weakness of all.

How many people have shamed themselves for the sake of one torrid love affair?

Whether the object of your praise or defamation is Rokea, Kin or human, a few kind words and "meaningful" glances is all it takes to win someone over to your side...or condemn them to their own shame.

Let the others worry about what happens in war. You have different weapons. In your own grotto, you are acutely aware of the real balance of power.

Let them play politics --- you have a keen insight to others that you gain from stories of their romantic dealings.

You're not weak or cowardly --- in fact, you can hold your own on the battlefield --- but your real talents count on the only battleground that matters.

The politics of disgrace require far more talent than the strategies of warfare.

Flatter members of the opposite sex to keep them off guard. You can feign any emotion to manipulate their weaknesses: remorse, shame, envy, adoration.

Your masterworks draw from a vast palette, and every color is a shade of gray.

You quickly evaluate what others desire and you can easily pretend to have what they want.

Alone with one lover, you can be demure and innocent, yet with another, you can be forceful and demanding.

And, of course, like any good Rokea, you understand the intricacies of dominance and submission.

You have power --- use it.

**Equipment:** Leather and silk, a book of verse, a single rose and a pair of handcuffs.
Mario

**Mario** is a vampire from Clan Gangrel.

## Biography

Mama always said you were a little high-strung. Not your fault. You tried to calm down — ain’t no one can tell you you didn’t try, dammit — but it just wouldn’t happen. Went to school, got a job, did all the shit you’re s’posed to. Kept gettin’ fired. Kept gettin’ in fights. Fought with the boss. Fought with that dumbass TV repairman. Fought with the preacher, even. Not too proud of that one. Weren’t even regular fights, sad to say. Sometimes you were drunk. Other times it weren’t even you who started it — some fool who crawled up your tailpipe got what he deserved and that’s that. Ended up bouncin’ at the stripper bar over on Highway 50. Never could bring yourself to strike a woman, which was prob’ly your saving grace in that job. Kicked a lot of trucker ass, though. Heh. Funny how you never see some things comin’. Got in one fight too many there in the strip bar. Last one was nasty. Lost a lot of skin. Grows back, though, ‘least it does now. That guy was bad news. Made you into a damn vampire. Brought you into some political bullshit, now you gotta work for the vampire king or some crapola and he’s out there howlin’ across the plains. King’s work ain’t bad, though. You know, if you gotta be stuck doin’ somethin’ you may as well get your kicks from it.

Rather than destroying you, the prince spared your unlife in exchange for you undertaking a certain responsibility. He made you the scourge. Now, you thin the ranks of the Kindred, culling the thin-blooded from the herd. It all makes sense to you — you alleviate the overpopulation and it keeps the prince from worrying about some deranged prophecy. Whatever, at least it’s not you meeting the Final Death. Apparently, princes have that right. You are a coward and a bully, thankful for your position because it allows you to victimize those weaker than you. Anyone stronger than you earns your resentment immediately. Anyone strong enough to kill you earns your grudging respect. You get along with some folks, like this coterie thing, but most people are simply there for you to push around or hurt. Or, in some cases, kill. Hey, it’s the hand God dealt ya.

**Equipment:** Boots with razors taped to the heels, the watch daddy gave you, pocketknife with a blade an inch over the legal limit, Chevy pickup

## Quote

*It’ll hurt less if you quit squirmin’, you stupid sumbitch.*
Fathoms-Sea's-Mysteries

**Fathoms-Sea's-Mysteries** is a Rokea.

Homid form

## Biography

Fathoms-Sea's-Mysteries is a venerable Rokea elder, one known for spending most of his time alone.

He spends nearly as much time on Unsea as in Sea, and this irritates many of the older, more traditional Rokea. Any objections they may have to his habits are quelled by the fact that he uses his knowledge to great effect, building bridges between the Rokea and the shapeshifters of Unsea and working with humans to help them learn to love and respect Sea. The Rokea may find his actions strange, but they cannot argue with results.

Fathoms-Sea's-Mysteries manages a maritime museum in Cairns, and he frequently organizes dive trips out to the Great Barrier Reef. The proceeds from such trips are funneled into initiatives to protect the reef or research efforts to understand the sea and its inhabitants.

In Homid form, Fathoms-Sea's-Mysteries is an athletic, ruggedly handsome man who appears to be in his late 30s. He has dark hair and swarthy features, and dresses in typical fisherman's garb. In Squamus form, he is a typical silvertrip shark. His Galdius form is surprisingly powerful, with no tail and a blunt snout.

You are a curious sort, and have always been far more interested in learning Sea's secrets than fighting the dirtwalkers -- or, for that matter, in socializing with other Rokea. You spend quite a bit of time on land, which makes the traditionalist among the Rokea angry. But you've been around for a long time, and no wereshark with any sense would dare to call you a betweener. Always give others a chance to prove themselves, and remember that all things exist for a reason. That is why you are willing to help the Garou, and it is why your fellow Rokea respect you --- whether they care to or not.
Amai

**Amai** is a Vampire from Clan Tremere.

## Biography

From award winning high school debate teams to communications and language classes in college and finally to an administration degree, you excelled at the fine points of diplomacy.

A a cultured voice, the ability to empathize with anyone's side and a keen study of motive all facilitated your great skill in etiquette and manipulation. People naturally like you, and you milked that for all it was worth.

You recognized early on that when a diplomat shows up to negotiate between two sides, the real prize is not in reaching the agreement, but rather in leading them to agree or disagree in the way that the diplomat wants.

Thereafter, you studied acting and psychology, not only to mollify people, but also to be able to incite them in ways that you preferred.

Once finished your MBA with studies in multiple languages and psychology, you started a silver tongued climb to a comfortable lifestyle. At first it was a corporate deal making, but you set your ambitions for the UN. You'd shape global policy just for the thrill of it, and you'd be paid for the job.

That is, until you were picked up by a pair of unsettling smooth talkers who recognized ambition and talent, and decided that you'd work the night shift on their behalf.

Concept: Embraced before you could become an experienced (or burnt out) statesman, you landed in the world of Kindred politics with a better reference position than most neonates.

You were quick to adjust and put your life behind you, since you had long ago learned to adapt to unusual cultures and customs.

A combination of media savvy, smooth talk and quick wit serves to cement your usefulness to the elders, while you manage to redirect your peers at one another's throats. Diplomacy is a weapon in it's own right, and it can lay low the mightiest with a few chosen words in Elysium. With that weapon you plan to play the Kindred society's games at your comfort and whim.

Although you're somewhat arrogant, you're affable and likeable to people, despite your predatory nature. You naturally empathize with people, and though you clinically set their emotions to one side, you pretend to feel their position (or take an outrageously opposed stance when you want to incense someone).

However instead of working directly to advance your own agenda, you smoothly slide yourself in as the middleman between various aggrieved parties, and then "help" them agree to solutions favorable to you.

You're witty, urbane, friendly --- and thoroughly selfish.

**Equipment:** Wardrobe by Mackie, PCS phone, German sedan, personal organizer
Samuel

**Samuel** is a Nosferatu.

## Biography

You hate yourself and what you have become, so you’ve learned to specialize in being other people. Back in the limelight of your mortal days, you always wanted to be an actor, but you never made it farther than a few drama classes. You jumped from job to job, but each time, you never really felt comfortable revealing how you felt to your co-workers. Instead, you lied frequently, fabricating a false past and pretending you knew more about various subjects than you really did. Eventually, you moved to another city, hoping to escape from the tangle of lies you had made out of your life, but lying to people gave you an adrenaline rush unlike anything else. Someone must have been watching over your shoulder because he decided to curse you with a true identity that was almost impossible to escape. Now you’re an unspeakably hideous monster, but because you can impersonate others with your supernatural abilities, you’ve finally become a consummate actor. You’ll be pursuing a wide variety of roles until the end of time... or until you get caught.

You’re a scam artist skilled at impersonation. Creeping around while invisible will eventually get other neonates in trouble, but you choose to hide in plain sight. You lead a double life, mingling with the vampires of one society while secretly informing another. You are a vital piece of your conspiracy’s information network. Whatever you do, don’t get caught.

Your coterie, pack or brood will probably want you to impersonate a wide variety of mortals. Make the most of this. Use your alternate personas to spread chaos and confusion, as much as you can get away with. You can do an amazing imitation of the prince, the leader of a local gang, an up-and-coming politician — just about anything with enough preparation. As long as you don’t have to be yourself, you are Everyman... or, at least, every man’s nightmare.

**Equipment:** Your haven includes a trunk filled with various props for your favorite roles. It’s also got a big album of photos from your previous life... and you’ve cut your face out of every one.
Delda

**Delda** is a Garou.

## Biography

You were born to a wealthy Kinfolk family and raised to aspire to high standards of living.

Unlike most other homids, you were carefully groomed to the ideals of tribal culture (even if they didn't tell you about the tribe itself until much later).

The peace and love stuff was pretty good, but what you really liked was the permissive attitude toward lovemaking and altered states of consciousness. Your teenage years were quite a ride.

It went kind of sideways with your First Change. It  was the first time you'd actually hurt someone --it didn't help that the guy died. But your folks got a great lawyer to help out the sept's efforts to cover things up, and you were never implicated.

What's more, the fact that he was a high school bully made it difficult for you to feel all that guily about the event.

You spent the learning period between your First Change and your Rite of Passage studying during the day and partying at night, learning the Bacchanalian side of tribal ritual. To this date, you've been able to keep yourself from thinking about you dead tormentor's face.

You're a high school stoner turned apprentice ritemaster, expert in the ritual use of  teacher plants, drugs, and alcohol. You like having a good time: drink, wee, sex and dancing. The spirits do too, so why complain? Some spirits like to possess you in return for giving you knowledge or using their powers while they embodied in you.

Of course, while they are around, they want to sample the pleasures of mortal existence, and you have no trouble obliging.

This life is a trip, but you are beginning to see some problems.

Heavy drug use is damaging your health and creating some frightening lapses in your memory, and shapeshifting no longer gets rid of the aftereffects as quickly as it once did.

In addition, the spirits are no longer as easily satisfied, and some of them are demanding things that you don't really want to do. You aren't really certain what to do about this, and you're becoming more and more nervous about the situation. You need to get control soon but you don't know if you'll have the strength to do it.

**Equipment:**

Condoms, half a dozen secret stashes spare set of "party" clothes

## Stats

**Breed:** Homid

**Auspice:** Theurge

**Physical:** Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Stamina 1

**Social:** Charisma 3, Manipulation 4, Appearance 3

**Mental:** Perception 3, Intelligence 2, Wits 3

**Talents:** Dodge 1, Empathy 2, Expression 1, Subterfuge 1

**Skills:** Animal Ken 1, Crafts 2, Drive 1, Etiquette 2, Performance 2, Stealth 1

**Knowledges:** Computer 1, Enigmas 1, Investigation 1, Law 1, Linguistics 1, Medicine 2, Occult 1, Politics 1, Rituals 3, Science 1

**Backgrounds:** Contacts 2, Kinfolk 2, Resources 3, Rites 4

**Gifts:** Smell of Man, Sense Wyrm, Resist Pain, Heightened Senses

**Rage:** 2

**Gnosis:** 2

**Willpower:** 4

**Tribal Weakness:** WEAK VEIL WITNESSES AT +4 ON DELIRIUM CHART
Laura

**Laura** is a vampire from Clan Ravnos.

## Biography

You grew up on the wharves of Amsterdam, and by the time you were an adolescent, you knew those wharves and the thieves that haunted them far better than did the police.

Your underworld ascent was as meticulous as a mule run through Customs, and by the time you were 25 the crime bosses of Europe were entrusting you with fortunes.

Naturally, you had contacts worldwide --- Bangkok, Medellín, Miami, Moscow --- and naturally, intelligence agencies worldwide had files on you (though no one could prove anything).

So it was not surprising when the nocturnal visitor slipped past your bodyguards and state of the art security system and tapped you awake after a particularly tension filled day.

After she lulled you into quiescence, she explained. There was an underworld deeper and vaster and more influential than you had ever imagined.

The players in this shadow economy routinely dealt in the fates of cities, states, entire countries.

Those crime bosses for whom you worked were the merest finger puppets veiling centuries old talons.

Some of these players had been working the underworld since the nights of Delilah --- and if you were game, she'd induct you into the big picture. Naturally, such an offer was too good to pass up.

You were a professional criminal in life and intend to be even more professional in death.

The ideologies of Europe, and the agencies that enforced them, meant nothing to you when you breathed --- do the archons and the Hand really expect you to fear them now?

Everyone needs you, but you're patient; they'll come to you soon enough.

You project a cool congeniality to everyone you meet.

Your ability to deal professionally and unflinchingly with Nosferatu has helped you more than all your Disciplines combined.

**Equipment:** Ghoul bodyguards, boat, van, Luger, fashionably attire, briefcase with secret cryogenic compartment
Justin

**Justin** is a vampire from Clan Toreador.

## Biography

You know you were Embraces on a whim. It's no big deal.

People from your part of town don't normally get any breaks at all, so you tried to make the best of it.

The problem, though, was your sire. He was one of those liberal poser motherfuckers who went on and on about the only true art being "the voice of the people! The voice of the streets!"

His own sire berated him for not being able to see past the "affections of some other torrid whore" or something.

So you did your grandsire a favor and offed the guy.

So much for his "lionization of the street culture." Whatever.

For you, being a vampire is about the worst possible thing that could have happened. At least with the neighborhood dopemen, being a parasite is a metaphor.

For you, it's real. You take vitae off the crackheads and passed out hookers and the rolled white boys who come downtown -- anywhere you can get it and not have anyone remember afterward.

All you really wanted to do was leave your mark on the world on your own terms, and now you have to deal with this "Kindred" noise on top of it all. Sometimes it hardly seems worth it.

Still, you do what you can with the tools you've been given.

You can do a "mural" in half the time it used to take and even if the cops lean on you, you can usually talk your way out of the situation.

Nothing that makes up for the sheer nastiness of being a vampire, though.

You still haven't let go of much of your mortal life, but it's becoming harder and harder to ignore the fact that you're one of the Damned.

Many of your living acquaintances have become distant, while others seem old before their time.

In almost every case, you seem to be leaving them behind or at least moving away from them emotionally.

Perhaps it's that you're not moving at all.

It seems that your "art" is all you have left.

You distrust most Kindred, as none of them have demonstrated that they're worth a damn to you.

Nonetheless, as you find yourself increasingly alone in a world that feels like it's written you off, perhaps there's some comfort to be found with others of your kind.

**Equipment:** Portable CD player, baggy clothes in various states of cleanliness, j hook shoulder bag full of spray paint cans, ball cap, alphanumeric pager
James (Samedi)

**James** is a vampire from Clan Samedi.

## Biography

Your father was a surgeon, and his father was a country doctor. It was preordained that the firstborn son would also be in medicine. It took three tries before you were accepted in medical school. The classes were draining, and the work quickly piled up over your head. Getting three or four hours of sleep per night was a luxury. But still you toiled on. Failing to become a doctor would be a disgrace to the family. There can't be an end to the tradition of healers. The stress was getting to be more than you could bear. After failing that last kinetics exam, you even contemplated suicide. Then, a new professor happened on the scene. He took a particular interest in you, always taking time to speak to you on the way out of anatomy class. His offer to tutor you on your weak points didn't come a moment too late. You spent many hours in his private office, poring over causes, cures, procedures and experiments. Sure, he had a few strange quirks. He only conducted meetings and classes after dark, but he'd stay up until almost dawn to help you with your problems. His office always smelled of formaldehyde and ether, and you could never figure out where it came from. His skin was kind of weird, too. It looked almost like it were stretched too tight, like whatever was underneath it was trying to burst its seams. You really didn't have much time to ponder his uniqueness and besides, he was helping you make the grade. On graduation day, he took you aside and made you an offer. He said that funding had just been put in place for a new branch of medical research. The work was ready to go, and all he needed was an assistant to help him. You eagerly agreed. It was an opportunity you couldn't refuse. Little did you know how things would change. Your unique insight has provided you with many hours of study. You carry on a night practice in a portion of your haven, treating the usual gamut of human ailments. It pays the bills. Hidden in the basement is your real love -- a fully functional experimental laboratory. So what if the occasional street punk or hooker goes missing? It keeps your hobby interesting. You know you're getting close. Just a few more months' work and you're sure your old professor will teach you about Bio thaumaturgic Experimentation. You've got the lab all set up. All you need is the talent. Medicine is your life. Your introduction to unlife has renewed your drive. You now have endless amounts of time to learn. Experiments that you used to think were impossible may actually be accomplished. You love to talk to other Samites about new developments in procedures, and to show off your latest project. Right now you're concentrating on building better prostheses. Anything to further the cause of the bloodline.

**Equipment:** Lab coat, stethoscope, clipboard, doctor's black bag, large filing cabinet stuffed with notes.
Longs-For-the-Sea

**Adrian,** better known by his Shark Name Longs-For-the-Sea is a Rokea.

## Biography

When you were five, the other kids in your kindergarten class were dutifully staying in the lines while coloring their handouts of houses.

You, by contrast, were drawing that same house being smashed and its inhabitants devoured by a lurid chartreuse stegosaurus.

Worlds of wonder and horror blossomed in your soul; you devoured all the science fiction and horror cinema and literature you could, and did a fair job of creating your own.

You went to art school, then double majored in graphic design and filmmaking. O'Brien, Harryhausen, Giger, Cameron --- these were your idols, and you made a fair go toward a career as a special effects designer and filmmaker.

You never dreamed, however, that the monsters you loved were anything more than wires and foam and pixel until that night you were working late on the set of Cretaceous Carnage 3 (or Piranha 2). First came the gunshots --- and the pain --- and then the things rounded the corner. Fanged, bloodied, wearing nothing, and sporting wounds --- you didn't need Dillard or Keen to tell you what they were.

Nor did you have any doubts as to their intentions, as their eyes flared black and their very real talons extruded and their scarlet lips twisted into rictuses like the great white's in Spielberg's Jaws.

So, with only a hint of hesitation, you flipped a switch and your massive body materialized in the center of the studio.

Screaming in panic, your crew fled the studio amid the cries of "Shapeshifter!" and "Magus!" All except one --- a tattered, pallid waif of a girl who looked sickly even for a human.

Righting herself against a console, she smiled weakly.

Reassuring you as to her innocence, she thanked you for chasing off the "anarch gang." Your talents, combined with a little "Rokea" magic, might take your far in the "free sea," she said. Were you interested in life eternal?

You didn't understand half of what the Rokea was babbling about, but if this was real, you were all for it.

Saying goodbye to the sun, you entered a reality more thrilling than any movie.

You are more interested in your Chemistry Discipline than in the unfortunate side effects of being a Rokea.

You did grow up steeped in tales of the horrific, however, so you know a little about what yo expect from life --- and your talented enough to wiggle your way out when your expectations prove wrong.

Your crime is trickery; you love to fool others, and you have mastered the art of the bluff, both verbal and illusory.

Externally a little nervous and self effacing, you are actually a lot more confident than you appear.

You get wildly enthusiastic when "conjuring" Chimerstry spun visions, and you avidly seek to learn more about the Rokea world into which you have been thrown.

**Equipment:** Disguise kit state of the art computer system, explosives, extra clothes, tattoo kit

## Trivia

* He is also a film director he filmed a 2010 film piranha and it's sequel including a lot of shark and ocean related films
Dark-Wound

**Dark-Wound** is a Rokea.

## Biography

Dark-Wound or Jonas by is friends is a Mako shark Rokea and is known for being very fast much like his species. Born in Florida, Dark-Wound was taught the ways of using his speed for hunting which also was part of his Long-Swim. As a preteen, he was captured by humans and studied by them in a marine research lab when they found out he was a Rokea, they gave him clothing and taught him the human ways his transition was difficult as he struggled to put on clothing, and didn't understand English he was taught by a wise fisherman both knew what happened with a Rokea who stayed on land for too long and lost his shapeshifting powers forever so he returned him to Sea after 4 days of learning about his Homid form. The Rokea were shocked to see Dirtwalkers teach a Rokea English and about Unsea. Jonas has divided his time between Unsea and Sea.

## Quote

*"I don't understand"(native tongue)*

*"Yes! I know English."*

*"Sup."*

*"A human school?"*
Shreds-The-Surface

**Shreds-The-Surface** is a Rokea.

## Biography

One of the largest Rokea, Shreds-The-Surface is arrogant and, like Blood-Scent has a strong hatred for humans claiming that he would never go on land to see them though he has done this a few times to hunt betweeners. He may seem evil, but he is kind-hearted to the Rokea and serve them as their strongest ally.

## Quotes

*"I have only gone on Unsea for personal reasons."*

*"An old friend."*

*"Let's see how you fare as one."*
Kail (Ratkin)

**Kail** is a Metis Ratkin.

## Biography

You were born a metis; your guilty parents sacrificed you to the Birthing Plague at an early age. When the Infection hit you for the first time, it was beyond anything you had ever experienced. In mere moments, your mind was overwhelmed by the history of the world... and the dangers it faced. Prophetic dreams revealed an entire world just beyond this one.

Other creatures have names for the spirits that live there, but you remember them by their sounds and scents. As a master of insight, you're well acquainted with the foul stench of the Wyrm's tentacles, the ozone crackling of the Weaver's webs, and the liberating effervescence of the Wyld. These wonders were amazing, but to you, the human world was even more fascinating.

As soon as you were old enough to leave your colony, you started wandering the streets and find others who were just like you... almost. The wealthy humans didn't trust you, but you found plenty of other people who had abandoned the pretense of "civilized" society. Some lived on the streets because they thought it was glamorous; a few preferred the dangers of street life to the violence at home; most of them had no choice. No matter what their reasons, they all had one thing in common: they needed help. Before the First Change, you always knew human society didn't quite work. The victims you help out are proof of that. You now take pride in knowing that a wererat can help them when ordinary humans can't. Since you can scrounge, hide and survive with the cunning of a rat, you actually like life on the street, and genuinely care for the people who live there. You help them; in return, you know a few good-hearted people who would do anything to help you. It's a shame the rest of your rat pack doesn't feel the same way. Concept: Like many Shadow Seers on the streets, you've started to care about the humans who live there.

Unfortunately, you're a metis, and some Ratkin question your odd philosophies. Don't the wererats have a sacred duty to help keep down the human population? Isn't it dangerous to wander the streets as a human male? Won't you get ripped off, like everyone else who tries to help • the homeless ? Your sympathy earns some skepticism from the other members of your pack, but you know that by helping out those in need, they may someday return the favor. You can't resist meddling in human affairs, especially among humans who are living on the edge. Unlike most wererats, you actually remember the names of people you meet on the street. You give them change, help them out when life is rough, get them help when they're sick, and mourn them when they die. The streets are a drama that goes on from day to day, and you prefer to be more than just a spectator. Let the cowardly humans watch; you prefer to get involved.

**Equipment:** knapsack with spare food and extra clothes, warm blanket, fetish radio for receiving messages from spirits
Lillian

**Lillian** is a vampire from Clan Toreador.

## Biography

You killed your husband.

You cheated on him first, and he probably suspected.

But he forgave you. He always deserved better than you, and you sometimes wish you hadn't been so fucking pretty.

Maybe then he would have married someone else, someone who would have helped him out, someone who would have made him happy.

You? If you weren't having a screaming fit, you were locked in your room with a piano or the violin, "creating." Never mind that your compositions never got finished.

He believed in you. He supported you. He loved you.

Then you met him. He heard you play with your quarter, and he approached you afterward. Attractive? Yes, but nothing you couldn't handle.

Then you heard him play. After that, it was only a matter of time.

Your husband suspected something, of course. You couldn't hide it from him -- the paleness, the exhaustion, the distraction... most of all, the evening excursions.

Your demon lover called --- without words, just a feeling --- and you went.

The night he brought you over, to be with him forever, was the night your husband followed.

The timing was perfect. Your husband showed up just in time for your burning, maddening thirst.

The memory is still a haze to you --- just a crimson hunger, passion, need, and worst of all love.

You loved him more as your first victim than you'd ever loved him as your husband.

When you realized what he'd done to you -- what he'd had you do --- you fell on him, taking blood from him once again, vomiting it out again to make room for more, more until you'd taken him dry and drawn out his damned soul with it.

You know what you are, and what you've done. You have no idea what you'll do with the rest of eternity.

And you haven't written a song or played a note since the night of your Embrace.

Even in life, you were ruled by your passions. In unlife, they have all been magnified.

You dread the rapture of feeding, even as you long to be overpowered by frenzy.

You loathe yourself for your crimes, even as you're intoxicated with your new power.

You're mercurial, temperamental and unpredictable.

Even you don't understand your mood swings.

One night, you feel like you're the world's greatest miracle.

The next, you're racked with guilt over your crimes.

**Equipment:** Violin, season symphony tickets, formal evening gown
Curious-About-Gaia

**Curious-About-Gaia** is a Shadow Lord.

## Biography

You were always the curious type, every since you were a pup sucking at your mother's teat.

You always wanted to know how the world around you worked, why things were the way they were, and what everything you saw meant in the grander scheme of things.

Your siblings didn't seem to care, and your parents didn't either.

To them, life was about hunting food and raising a litter, and perhaps chasing a crow or two when they got a spare moment.

Nothing else mattered to them, and they didn't understand why you seemed to want so much more.

When your First Change hit, things began clicking for you.

You began to understand why you felt so different, so much more interested in the world around you than the rest of your family.

Your packmates are envious of the fact that your Change was so mundane; they all had to deal with great trauma when they entered the world of the Garou, but for you it was just the final piece in a heretofore maddening puzzle.

Garou society gave you the opportunity to ask many, many more questions.

There's so much to learn, and you won't live forever.

And even your packmates have to admit to feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction when you manage to stump an elder or two with one of your questions.

Your innocent curiosity, however, has uncovered some things young Garou aren't necessarily supposed to know, and as a result you've made a few enemies within the sept.

But it's of no real concern to you --- curiosity is what drives you, and some people can't handle that you aren't going to lose any sleep over it.

You have no real interest in gaining or exercising power over others, which makes you a bit of an oddity among your tribe.

You're content to remain the loyal beta in your pack, always asking questions and seeing what the others tend to miss.

You've learned that some things are amiss in your sept, though, and you have to winder how they'll affect your pack's future.

It's not in your nature to undermine the positions of others, but you'll make damn sure that your pack won't suffer just because some elder wants to advance his own agendas.

Tradition means nothing to you, and ceremony irritates you.

Question everything, both because you want to know why and because you can get away with asking.

Your curiosity irritates your packmates, but it has proven useful enough that they don't complain about it --- much.

Stay close to your packmates, be sure they deserve your confidence and trust.

If they don't, you might have to rethink your place in the pack, and in the sept at large.

**Equipment:** Beaten up human clothes (you tend to gnaw on them when you're in wolf form and lost in though), pencil, notebook filled with trivia
Deadly-Sun

**Deadly-Sun** is a Mokole.

Suchid form

## Overview

Deadly is a Komodo Dragon who was born in Australia under the Rising Sun.

## Personality

Considered by humans and his tribe to be a powerful warrior and leader it is no surprise that he is quite temperamental as well when it come to the way some of his tribes members may act. He does a have a good heart towards his people and is loyal to them.

## Other Information

### Human form

He often takes on human form to work at a local zoo often staying away from humans.
Explores-The-City

**Explores-The-City** is a Glass Walker.

## Biography

You were just another wolf born in the wilderness. You played with other cubs, but wrestled them to the ground too easily.

Besting the rest of your pack seemed so easy that you hardly believed there was a time when you weren’t alpha. When you Changed, it wasn't a surprise. Well, a little, perhaps.

Life as a Garou cub was much the same. You were better than the other cubs and easily humiliated the two-legged ones, particularly enjoying the way the male ones got disgusted at being beaten by a feral bitch. But the enjoyment passed. Certainly, there were others there you couldn't beat, but you would one day. They told you you'd be a great storyteller, but you felt like you knew every story already!

Then, in your Rite of Passage, you got sent off to the city.

They'd told you to kill someone, but the moment you saw the city, you stopped caring. The city frightened you. Puzzled you. All the rules were different, nothing made sense. For the first time, you felt uncertainty. And you liked it.

You never went back home. Instead you found more like you in the City and forced them to accept you, instead, which they seemed to do gladly. Not that they were perfect, either. They were all apes, clumsy and slow and with no idea about how the mirror worlds worked. But then, that's where you fit in. You didn't need machines to explore the strangeness of the city's Umbra, and four paws tread the pattern web better than two.

There are a million stories in the city. You intend to find every last one.

The real wilderness is just too soft. All the challenges that demand the attention of a wolf are in the urban jungle, so why is it all apes in there? They all spend their time in the world of cars and money or maybe step over once or twice in their caern.

They've barely even scratched the surface of the City. You intend to dig into its entrails a little.

You're adapting to being, for once in your life, someone other than the alpha.

Respect that you now have to follow orders sometimes, but snap out sometimes and don't apologize for it.

Shove your nose into every nook, cranny, secret and personal relationship and remember it all for later. It's all important.

**Equipment:** Some borrowed clothes for when you need them, a few steaks bought for you (The one thing wrong with the city is the food.) and a spot on the caern's floor where you can sleep.

## Stats

**Breed:** Lupus

**Auspice:** Galliard

**Physical:** Strength 3, Dexterity 4, Stamina 3

**Social:** Charisma 4, Manipulation 1, Appearance 2

**Mental:** Perception 3, Intelligence 2, Wits 3

**Talents:** Alertness 2, Athletics 2, Braw 2, Dodge 2, Intimidation 2, Primal Urge 3,

**Skills:** Animal Ken 2, Leadership 1, Stealth 3, Survival 3

**Knowledges:** Enigmas 2, Rituals 3

**Backgrounds:** Fetish 3, Rites 3

**Gifts:** Hare's Leap, Heightened Senses, Mindspeak, Skyscraper Vision

**Rage:** 4

**Gnosis:** 5

**Willpower:** 6

**Tribal Weakness:** CANNOT REGAIN GNOSIS IN THE WILDERNESS