recursal/Fanatic-Fandom huggingface dataset:
Veronica

Whether you were getting a biscotti from Aunt Gina before dinner or getting Cousin Angelo to put lotion on your back, your most powerful weapon has always been your smile.

## Personal Information

### Status

Alive / Undead

People are fun: They can do a lot of nice things for you. It's particularly nice if you can get theirs before you have to give them yours, but haggling runs in the family and you suspect you got a double dose of it.

You received the Proxy Kiss from Angelo when you were 20, (He always had a soft spot for you when he was alive. Or maybe it could be better described as a hard spot. Anyway, he recognized talent.) As his ghoul servant in Barcelona, some vampires from other clans tried to lure you away. Sure, they had the power to make you want to please them, but they never seemed to realize that you also wanted to please yourself.

Angelo met a bad end; oh, well. You were instrumental in directing the vendetta against his assassins--- but more, you were essential in making sure that the most important Kindred in Barcelona felt that the clan's killers were doing the outsiders a favor by "enforcing the Masquerade." Smoothing things over earned you your recent Embrace, and you're now in good with both your family and those charming innocents in the Camarilla.

You weren't really given a choice about your Embrace, and there's a lot of things you miss about life. You miss biscotti and sunbathing, not to mention sex.

But in a lot of ways it's easier to sleep with someone for the family's sake now that you don't really feel anything...now that you're dead.

You're naturally charming, cute and a good listener.

If you'd been born into another family, you'd probably have grown up to be a great sales associate, or even a talk show host.

As it is, you're playing "impartial third party" to the Camarilla on behalf of your elders.

Be nice to people in ways that don't cost anything. Be disarmingly honest with the people who are suspicious of you: Even if it doesn't bring them around, it impresses anyone watching.

You're used to getting your way because people naturally want to please you.

If thwarted, pout but don't make a deal of it: You'll always have tomorrow night.

**Equipment:** Versolato evening gowns, PCS phone, automatic pistol, BMW 330 convertible, roofies
Brings-Hope

**Brings-Hope** is a Garou.

## Biography

You were born in the wilderness. Where, exactly, is unimportant to you.

From birth, the others all looked at you strangely.

They could sense that something dark hung over you, making you different.

Eventually, you learned just how different you were.

Your First Change was a terrifying surprise, completely without warning.

The rest of the pack fled from you, and you were forced to wander alone for over a week before a nomadic pack of Silent Striders found you.

You learned of Gaia and of the spirit world, putting names to concepts you'd previously only sensed by instinct.

You also learned of your sacred duty to protect Gaia, of your tribe's failure to protect Khem and of their quest to help prevent other tribes from sharing that failure.

Your first visit to a caern came as a shock to you. The guardians had fallen to despair, saying their enemies were too great.

You almost fell to despair yourself at their shameful words and actions.

What hope could there be if Gaia's champions had fallen so far?

But your new pack did not fall to despair. Instead, they rallied the sept.

Their words and their strength brought back home.

They helped the sept slay several of its enemies.

One of those hunts even served as part of your Rite of Passage.

When you and your mentors left the caern, it was stronger than when you arrived, and they once again took up their duties with renewed purpose and vigor.

You saw first hand the power that hope has and you wanted to share that power with others.

The leader of your pack was pleased with your attitude, and began to teach you of the Harbingers and their secrets.

You are the epitome of your tribe and of your camp: a traveler who arrives bearing news and dreaded warnings of danger. But while you bring warnings, you also bring hope.

In the End Times, you bring what may be the most precious and vital thing in this World of Darkness: the inspiration to keep struggling. To not give up and to fight against the darkness.

The human concept of angst is alien to you. As a wolf, you are accustomed to living for the moment, without dwelling on the past of endlessly worrying about the uncertainties of the future. The problems of the present are challenges to be overcome, not insurmoutable obstacles. Remind those who have

lost hope that as long as they still live, they have the power and the ability to change things.

Failure is never certain unless one gives up.

Despair is the Wyrm's greatest weapon, and you refuse to let your people succumb to its power.

**Equipment:** Nothing, save your voice and your message of hope.
Will

**Will** is a Bone Gnawer.

## Biography

You literally born in a steamer trunk backstage at a production of Shakespeare's Hamlet. You grew up in and around the theatre.

When your parents fell on hard times, the Department of Family and Children Services assigned you to a foster home while they looked for better work. You were 13, and your First Change occurred while you were being taunted by the children for your manner of speaking. You erupted in a blind rage, shifted into Crinos, and left the room a bloody mess.

Your Bone Gnawer kin took you in after finding you shivering in an alleyway.

Now you are on the run. You've found a few places to hide; you spend most of your time in the theaters of the city, underneath the stage or in the upper catwalks, listening to rehearsals.

Afterward you usually go to the museum -- carefully avoiding the Kindred who sometimes visit there. You often put on a suit of armor, take down some knightly weapons, and practice your sword-fighting for an evening. After all, you must be ready when your skills as a warrior are called upon by the local Garou lords.

Mix Shakespearean language with modern day words. Address everyone as "My Lady" or "My Lord." Observe a slightly modified, more realistic code of honor.

You don't actually believe you're a Shakespearean warlord, but you do get into the fantasy so deeply that it is difficult for you to break out.

**Equipment:** Faded silk finery (stolen from a museum), book of Shakespeare’s plays, broadsword, big black cloak (which keeps you from being arrested for carrying around the broadsword).

## Stats

**Breed:** Homid

**Auspice:** Ahroun

**Camp:** Frankweiler

**Physical:** Strength 4, Dexterity 5, Stamina 1

**Social:** Charisma: 5, Manipulation 2, Appearance 1

**Mental:** Perception 2, Intelligence 1, Wits 3

**Talents:** Alertness 2, Dodge 2, Empathy 2, Intimidation 1, Primal Urge 1, Streetwise 1

**Skills:** Etiquette 3, Melee 3, Leadership 1, Performance 3, Stealth 3

**Knowledge:** 1, Linguistics 3, Medicine 1

**Backgrounds:** Allies 2, Contacts 3

**Gifts:** Persuasion, Inspiration, Cooking

**Rage:** 7

**Gnosis:** 3

**Willpower:** 6

**Weakness:** +1 SOCIAL ROLL DIFFICULTIES WITH OTHER TRIBES

## Trivia

* He is possibly named after William Shakespeare
Lia

**Lia** is a vampire from Clan Malkavian.

## Biography

As far back as you could remember, you loved art.

You tried your best with crayons, modeling clay, pen and ink and crafts of all sorts --- but alas, you weren't fortunate enough to be born with true talent.

Instead yours were the gifts of intelligence and a discerning eye --- and no small measure of stubbornness.

So what you lacked in vision, you decided to make up for in education.

Even if you couldn't create art that would communicate on the soul's level, you could certainly do your best to bring it to others.

With your dedication and intelligence, you wrestled a scholarship to a university with a celebrated liberal arts school.

True, your family could have afforded to send you without it, but if Daddy had actually had to break out the checkbook, he would have been the one to choose your major.

You majored in art history (trying the occasional painting course in vain), with a minor, oddly enough, in psychology.

As your studied progressed further, you became more and more fascinated with the that artists -- usually a troubled lot --- used art to try communicating the things they could never say.

Unfortunately, your grades weren't all they could have been; the professors just weren't willing to accept your ideas about collective ur-minds and the like.

You have no idea exactly when your sire started stalking you; you remember a few late nights in the art building when you were getting a little paranoid even without the benefit of getting high.

She finally caught you at one of the receptions, dragging you into one of the restroom stalls and bringing you across.

She explained herself later --- on the nights she felt like explaining anything -- in long ramblings about shared consciousness, garbled line of communication and failed attempts at expression.

For your part, you felt a quiet thrill --- at last, someone who understood.

Malkav's blood has only heightened your belief in a communal level of human consciousness, one that can't be communicated in ordinary terms.

With the help of some of the family's old contacts as backers, you opened what has become one of the most successful, if controversial, art galleries in North America.

You deal exclusively in art created by mental patients --- after all, only the unstable have access to the deeper levels of consciousness.

With luck, it'll help others find something new, if perhaps a bit disturbing, about themselves. At the very least, it gives the psychopaths something new to do.

Keep on the go --- time, tide and the trendy wait for no one.

Speak with patient authority and quiet enthusiasm --- unlike many other dealers, you fervently believe in the statements your artists are making.

And always, always, keep on top of things.

There's always going to be some idiot Toreador bitch who thinks her clan has a monopoly on visual communication, and you've got to be ready to keep her in her place.

**Equipment:** Dramatically striking clothing, cell phone, portfolio of reproductions, cigarettes and lighter, latest art world periodicals

**Derangement:** Bulimia
Protect-Sea

**Protect-Sea** is a Rokea.

## Biography

You were born and raised in a large coastal city, where traditional American values still held strong. You have never wanted to live anywhere else.

You have never really experienced anything else. While you were growing up, life was good and your problems were few.

Your hardest task was to make your siblings see reason when they started to fight among themselves.

When the time came for your First Change, your aunt led you away from the town to explain what you were about to go through.

She talked you through the Change, and then informed you of your new duties and responsibilities.

You live much the same way that you did before the Change. You have a job in a local surfing company, one of the good ones that still makes all their surfboards by hand, and you have finally come to the decision that the city is where you want to be forever.

You are still settling disputes, always trying to stop some fool from smashing another fool's head in.

The only thing your slew ever seems to agree on is that the time has come to end the reign of the Wyrm.

Speak loudly, but only when necessary. You know that your words carry weight, but you try not to abuse your position as a Keeper of the Ways. Still, you absolutely hate liars and will go out of your way to make them confess to their crimes, even if you have to smash their skulls in to do it.

**Equipment:** Jeans, T-shirt, hand made baseball bat, workman's boots, and three six packs every week
Charles (Vampire)

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

## Biography

Hollywood loves you, because whenever a magazine complains about the film industry's artless pandering, they can point to your latest Western drama or Science Fiction story and claim the intellectual high ground.

Actors all drop their points on the margin to get a role in your latest project because they know you're Oscar bait.

(The moviegoing public? They like you okay. Good for a first date.) Sure, you're never going to sell more tickets than the latest combination of fart jokes and explosions, but you've got class.

Everyone in Hollywood wants class.

It was not always thus.

It seems like only a few years ago you were a struggling journalist, fresh from covering the atrocities of the Balefire Weresharks, moving out to California to make a fresh start.

Your stories about frontier life, death and the weirdness in between didn't impress too many editors.

They did, however, catch the eye of someone... or something... just as influential.

Your sire declared that you might someday write "the Iliad of the 20th century," so he Embraced you, tutored you, and taught you how to make money buy turning stories of vampires and werewolves into safe titillation instead of terrifying fact.

Despite years as a vampire, you still feel more comfortable with the living than the dead.

Your fellow Toreador seem to be all right, as do some of the recently Embraced, but so many of the other clans seem to follow such ruthless agendas for little real gain.

Your intense urge to guard your privacy is motivated in part by your special diet, but almost as much by a desire to insulate yourself from the incessant sniping that seems to come part and parcel with immortality.

You just want the freedom to prove that movies can still be art, but there's constant pressure to involve yourself in the vampiric demimonde.

Since other vampires are often the only ones who can understand your problems, it's hard to stay aloof.

You've seen very little of the Jyhad and could happily spend centuries without seeing more.

You just want to make great movies, and you do --- but the money that's a byproduct of your films seems to only attract more attention from those greedy Licks from other clans.

Stay quiet, but when you speak, speak with total authority.

You're not boss; you're just used to getting your own way.

With vampires, you're both less certain and more likely to open up and say what you're thinking.

Nonetheless, you have a healthy dose of paranoia.

**Equipment:** Topnotch Apple PowerBook, several PCS phones, this year's Range Rover
William (Corax)

**William** is a Corax.

## Biography

You don't remember too much before the Change hit you — your mama knew you were different, but taught you the winged ways as best as she could. There weren't any other Corax around the park where you nested, but there were plenty of humans — and you got to watch them day in and day out. You got to watch them trash the place unthinkingly. You got to see the muggings and the rapes, the pollution and the foulness, and you took it all in, every last detail. You didn't know why, but you knew it was important. When the Change finally came, everything fell into place. Other Corax finally found you and educated you, and showed you what it was you needed to do. You shared what you'd seen with them, and they spread the word. Before long, the park was cleansed. They, in turn, entrusted you with a sacred duty — to train others as you'd been trained However, more and more of the new Corax you saw weren't up to your standards. They were monkeys, born and bred. So you found yourself being extra hard on the students who came to you with opposable thumbs. Those who broke, well, the Wyrm would have broken them anyway. And those who survived your training? Someday, they might even show enough merit to overcome their species. At least, that's what you hope. In the meantime, there's work to do. The business of being Gaia's eyes and ears on the world is something you take very seriously. There's no time for fun and games as far as you're concerned (though there is time to purse the occasional shiny thing — you never know when it'll be relevant). The monkeys have no idea what they're doing — damned groundhuggers, the lot — and it's up to you to get it right. If it was born a mammal, you haven't got the time for it. Sure, you and all the other Corax have to work together for Gaia, yaddada yaddada yaddada, but you'll be damned if you take any lip from any fur-bearing, flea-ridden, sensitive-spot-scratching jumped-up chimp. If anyone's going to be in charge of any joint ops, it's going to be you, and no biped's going to get any kind of responsibility — or respect — while you're around.

**Equipment:** Binoculars, notepad, bag lunch
Belle

**Donna "Belle"** is an Ananasi.

## Biography

Always the social butterfly, you spent your formative years fitting from boy to boy, and from outfit to outfit. You were the envy of all girls, and the dream of all the boys. But things started to change. The thrill of the attention that once kept you alive, now barely holds your interest.

Your friends changed, They no longer wanted to be around you, and some even began to ridicule you. When you first heard them talking behind your back, you knew that you should feel pain. That this betrayal should have brought you to the edge of tears, but your eyes stayed dry. Your concern was replaced by curiosity.

The physical change was probably the most fascinating part of the experience. There was pain, to be certain, but the pain led to new and interesting organs and sensations. The most intense sensation was discovering that you were not alone in the world. That there were others like you---many others, all remembering what it was like to be human, but past that experience.

You aren't ready to let it pass. Being human is now something of an enigma, and if you don't explore the mystery, then it can never be solved. You were born human, and you are willing to continue the masquerade of humanity. Perhaps you can even win back your friends, and use them later in life--assuming that they live long enough to be useful.

Your mom is a sweet woman, and your dad tries to be there for you--when he's in town--but neither of them is exactly what you need right now. You need the guidance of the Great Mother, the leadership that no father can provide. You will live with your parents, but you will establish your own life, and do with it the things that you have to do. And when the time comes, you won't ever have to worry about your human parents again.

Move from experience to experience: not for the thrill, but for the mystery. You want to understand all that you can about the life that you will leave behind. Don't alienate anyone now, but realize that they cannot follow you into the life ahead, and they can't be left to let anyone know where you have gone.
Watches-the-Surface

**Watches-the-Surface** is a Rokea.

## Biography

Watches-the-Surface is the leader of a slew that is around the oceans around the US. As far as his relationship with humans goes, he is very neutral with them and doesn't like them all too much. His human form is a combination of being "pretty and ugly" by most humans who see him in human form.

### Personality

Despite his sometimes usual expressionless behavior, Watches finds joy in establishing himself as a good leader and warrior like Blood-Scent fighting what he believes to be false heroes. Watches is dedicated to his desires to destroy human society, sharing his belief that one person with the necessary conviction can do so. However, he does not seem to seek a society with better humans, believing that true "kind" humans don't exist. Despite his devotion to this, Watches does many things that some would not, such as attacking innocent bystanders and helping some humans get revenge against a certain somebody, while also being motivated by his own vengeance against humans for what they've done to the Rokea. In the end, it seems that Watches is only using his ideals as a cover for his own motives, as well as to justify crimes against human society.

Watches takes pleasure in taunting heroic figures, students, and general humans alike, sadistically enjoying the pain he inflicts on others, including those he murders. Sometimes, Watches engages in psychological warfare in order to unnerve whoever his opposition is, while also allowing himself to cool down from his Rage. Very pragmatic in battle, he is rather savvy about how humans operate and will exploit their natural tendency to rescue others. He is not afraid of causing collateral destruction, rarely holding back, even if it puts his allies at risk.
Adah

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

## Biography

Your life was simple.

Your father made pots and furniture and paintings.

Some were simple, for people to drink from or sit on or hang in their home shrines.

Others were fancy, made for gods and temples.

When your father died, you took over making these things.

The white world held little appeal for you.

They seemed to be a people apart from the world, devoted to the pointless division of things.

Instead of having their God with them all the time, they kept him imprisoned in a church, guarded by priests and mysteries.

To you, surround all your life by spirits and ancestors, this seemed very contrary indeed.

The first walking dead man you met was black.

He spoke enticingly. He promised you wisdom, secrets, power to scourge the white men from your country.

When you asked your ancestors about the man, they said he was an agent of great evil, and that to protect your people, you had to become like him.

You would exist suspended between life and dead, trapped in the white man's world.

They told you their voices would become hard to hear in the white world.

And that you would know great temptation.

You said you would never lose faith.

They said to wait. They would bring you a vessel.

A week later, the walking dead man entered your village.

He had somehow gotten one of the banners you made for a god.

He called you a "great artist" and a "unique voice," He prattled on about the pleasures of the white world, but you could see he had the curse and gift of half death life.

The spirits of your ancestors told you he was the means by which you would be transformed and guard your people, so you accepted his Embrace.

Now you live within the white world, but separate.

Your work is no longer holy, crafted by dead hands, but its buyers do not care.

It serves you, and you serve the ancestors, and they serve the world.

You don't understand many things about the modern world, but you don't care.

Your job is to serve your people and your ancestors by protecting them.

For now you can do this best as one of the Kindred.

It's not that you hate white people or envy them: you actually feel sorry for them, since they're so ignorant of what really matters.

You tend to be the strong, silent type who prefers action to words.

**Equipment:** Winchester Model 1300 shotgun, tailored Parisian robes in an "African" style, pranga knife
Dreamtime's Hunter

**Dreamtime's Hunter** is a Rokea and part of the Dim Shallows Slew.

## Biography

Dreamtime's Hunter is a Galapagos shark, nearly 10 feet in length. his fins are tipped in black and his underbelly is gray.

In homid form, which he assumed exactly twice since his long swim, he is a slim black man with an upturned nose, bulging eyes, and a hare lip.

You know that many of your auspice venture onto Unsea to sample the wonders there. You, however, know that wonders aplenty exist below the waves, and that the Kunspawn are better equipped to handle these wonders than those of the surface world. you cordially distrust dirtwalkers, and while you have only participated in one Hunt for a betweener, you gladly provide information and guidance to hunting parties whenever you can.

Dreamtime's Hunter has been swimming the waters of Australia for nearly five decades. He listens to remora and Rorqual whenever possible, and with each horror story about Small-Wounds and human foolishness, he grows more secure in the knowledge that the Rokea should stay in the water. He belongs to the slew only with the understanding that they do not swim on Unsea for any reason. All-Seas wears on his patience, as he has occasionally found causes that would require the slew to go ashore, and Wave-Crest has even entertained some of them.

## Stats

**Breed:** Squamus

**Auspice:** Darkwater

**Species:** Galapagos Shark

**Nature/Demeanor:** Traditionalist/Traditionalist

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

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

**Mental:** Perception 3, Intelligence 3, Wits 4

**Talents:** Alertness 3, Athletics 2, Brawl 3, Empathy 1, Primal Urge 3, Subterfuge 1

**Skills:** Animal Ken 1, Stealth 4, Survival 4

**Knowledges:** Enigmas 3, Investigation 2, Occult 3, Rituals 4, Rokea Lore 4

**Backgrounds:** Remora 3

**Gifts:** Breach, Blood of the Deeps, Chill, Fast, Sense Threat, Enter Unsea's Soul, Shagreen Shield, Unsea's Blessing, Fathom Sight, No Blood, Shock Wave

**Rank:** 4 (Cold Sea)

**Rage:** 4, Gnosis 7, Willpower 6

**Rites:** The Rite of School's Wisdom, The Rite of the Man-Form, The Rite of the Hunt, The Rite of Passing the Net, The Rite of Rokea Blood, The Rite of Cleaning

**Fetishes:** None

## Quote

*"He can't see what's right in front of him."*

*"The ocean calls me."*

*"Shut up man!"*
Disgrace-To-Gaia

**Disgrace-To-Gaia** is a Garou.

## Biography

Your First Change saw a great clamor among the Red Talons. A great prophecy had come to pass at your birth, and sure enough, you bear striking resemblance to a great hero of old.

You were rushed through your Rite of Passage, given leadership of a pack, and sent on an important mission to the Umbra --- you were meant to destroy a festering Hellhole using your inherited skill and leadership ability.

Your sept was sure you would complete the mission easily, and return t triumphant howls.

You were not ready for such a mission. A pack of Black Spiral Dancers was lying in wait for you, which you should have anticipated.

You failed in your task. Your packmates died in agony or were forced to walk the Black Spiral.

You escaped through sheer luck, and returned to your sept with your tail between your legs and your head hung low.

The elders of your sept decided that the prophecy had either been a mistake or that you were not the true embodiment of it.

They further decided that you were a failure as a Red Talon.

While they didn't expel you from the tribe, they sent you away to a sept that needed warriors.

Now you have a new pack, and your pure breeding and noble bearing --- not to mention your brief, if disastrous experience in the Umbra, drives the others to look to you for leadership. But you cannot lead, not again.

You will not lead another pack into death and corruption.

You were born leader and alpha, but you have no confidence in yourself.

You can exert dominance easily if you so choose, but you are deathly afraid that if you take up the mantle of alpha that another pack will lie dead at your feet.

You have nightmares of the survivors of your first pack coming to find you to exact revenge (or drag you into the pits) but you cannot bring yourself to tell your pack the whole truth behind your arrival.

Outside of battle, you avoid your pack. You don't wish to get attached to them, just in case.

While on a mission, however, you defend each of them like family.

Homid, metis, Child of Gaia, Glass Walker --- no matter tribe, auspice or breed, they are your pack and you will not let them die.

If asked your opinion, you defer to the alpha or decline to answer, but sometimes, instinct takes over and you bark an order or suggest a course of action.

Then you remember howls of pain and evil laughter and are quiet again.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder what exactly the prophecy that you supposedly embody actually said....

**Equipment:** None.
Autumn Sky

**Autumn Sky** is a Mokole.

## Biography

Your parents died in a massacre in your war-torn nation. You grew up in refugee camps, then at a church orphanage where the kids were treated like zoo animals. The nuns were mean and other kids were too, so you read as much as you could to escape. You learned that the world was a very big place, and that it was as troubled as you were. The botany texts were useful. Soon you were combining the nearby forests for your collection. Sister Mary got you a place at the conservation department, and you began working for a white scientist who studied your people and their ways, especially their use of the teacher plants. Soon you knew more than he. You enjoyed the altered states that the plant medicines brough, when the plants made you a lizard or a dragon.

One night you awoke to find yourself still a lizard. You were scared, but the hallucinations came back, stronger then ever-voiced long dead, telling you who you truly were and what your destiny was.

You found other Mokole but it seemed that they cared for nothing but memory and the past. It was obvious to you that now was the time to act, and that the life and lore of the rainforests had to be preserved before it vanished into past tense forever.

You are an indigenous helper to researchers who study the plant lore of the tropics. Obviously, many are corporate scientists who seek commercially exploitable products, while others are looking for the thrill of new hallucinogens. You do a lot of traveling and are in demand for trips. No one guesses that Mnesis makes you a perfect guide. In between trips, you are the ritemaster for two far-removed clutches, neither of whom has a Zarad of its own.

You know the local landscape like the back of your claw. You end up defending humans in word and deed: many of your fellow Mokole don't see the point of cooperating with them at all You need an easygoing nature to get along both with the pushy, demanding foreign scientists and the stuffy, hidebound crocodiles back the wallow. You'd like to find a good Kinfolk mate, but the village men are lacking somehow. Maybe you'll meet someone on a journey.

**Equipment:** Khaki shorts, walking shoes, pouch of hallucinogenic plant specimens, smoking pipe.

## Stats

**Breed:** Homid

**Stream:** Makara

**Auspice:** Zarad

**Varna:** Makara

**Phyisical:** Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Stamina 3

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

**Mental:** Perception 3, Intelligence 4, Wits 3

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

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

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

**Backgrounds:** Mnesis 3, Resources 2, Rites 4

**Gifts:** Find Water, Lambent Flame

**Rage:** 4

**Gnosis:** 3

**Willpower:** 6

**Wisdom:** 3

**Sun Dice:** +1 die on Stealth or concealment rolls
Shayne

**Shayne** is a Rokea and leader of the slew The Shark Boys.

In makeup

## Biography

### Personality

Shayne is a very protective and easily angered man especially other weresharks in his territory or trying to 'get' his girlfriend, Lauren. Despite this, he is very kind to his closest allies most importantly Lauren. His anger / stress can get the best of him triggering his Rage and his transformation.

### Life as a Betweener

Shayne knows he is a betweener and a Homid Rokea and he knows the fact that numerous slews are hunting him.
Andy

**Andy** is a Ratkin.

## Biography

: You gave the best years of your life to big, wealthy businesses, selling off pieces of your life for a paycheck. Each time, it ended in disaster. Either the company would downsize, or you'd get burned out, or a so-called friend would stab you in the back. You never wanted to trust another company again, but the eviction notices and angry phone calls forced you to get a job, any job that came along. Since then, you sold your soul, one hour at a time, as a temp employee. Years of working have worn down your enthusiasm. You've got a talent for marketing yourself as just about anything. You'll do any job, if you really have to, but you've got a habit of discarding your employers before they discard you. Along the way, you scam all the little perks and privileges you can get, and always scurry away before the boss can figure out who's responsible. Your desperate career path had two major flaws, though. Temps don't get sick leave, and they can rarely afford health insurance. When your health started failing after years of drafty apartments, cheap food and long hours, your finances got caught in a downward spiral. When you started drinking, puking, and sleeping all day, you were ready to wait for your next eviction. Then Infection set in, and the Birthing Plague revealed to you a family that would help support you for life. Your rat pack is able to help you out with a place to crash and decent food. In return, you help them with a little monkeywrenching from time to time. You can assume the proper corporate guise for infiltrating any organization as a temporary employee. You've got access to computer files, methods of getting through security, and a talent for finding an organization's weak points. And if, Rat God forbid, you should ever get caught, you've got the ability to change your identity and run back to your family. It's nice to finally have a little insurance, and it's nice to make the rich folks pay for a change.

You're unassuming enough that no one really remembers you. You're also skilled enough that you can get a temp job in just about any office. Since your employer pays you little more than minimum wage, you've decided to sell out to the highest bidder, exploiting the resources of the company to further other goals. You've got a bad habit of overestimating your skills. If anyone offers you work, you'll take it, but whether you can actually do the job is another matter. No matter where your rat pack travels, you can scam a contract or a part-time job, usually with a questionable company that routinely screws over its temps. Every employer you find has some benefit you can exploit. Remember to place your own survival first; after all, no employer is ever really going to give a damn about you.

**Equipment:** backpack, laptop, dress shirt and tie, blue jeans and slacks, falsified identification
Sakana

*This is Homebrew meaning this is fan made and not canon to White Wolf.*

**Sakana** are werefish one of the Changing Breeds of Ocean: The Rising.

## Overview

Like the Rokea, they are immortal and cannot die naturally only through an unnatural death can they die. Once they reach adulthood, their aging process stops. They gather in groups of about 3-10 called schools. They communicate with The Sending like the Rokea. Their grotto's are similar to the Rokea depending on where the fish most likely lives in.

They can regenerate lost limbs such as eyes, teeth, etc while in Kaisui form. They cannot soak silver damage while in that form.

### Breeds

* **Homid** - Like the Rokea, Homid Sakana are extremely rare. Some Sakana despise humans a won't breed with them others approve it.

* **Kaisui** - Fish born Sakana which is the most common breed. Like the Rokea, they choose the largest or deadliest of their kind.

### Forms

* Homid: This form is rare but many are not very pleasing sporting fish-like features such as the nose and eyes.
* Kaisui: This is only known to those who dwell on land they bear close resemblance to fish men in folklore or just a fish in general
* Tsuyoi: This form is used for fighting which they are often shown with muscles

### Auspices

They share the same auspice as Rokea but with different names.

Akarui mizu (Brightwater)

Kurai mizu (Darkwater)

Usugurai mizu (Dimwater)

### Species

Various "tribes" and species are among the Sakana

* Pirania ~ The were piranha's of South America who have an uncontrollable appetite
* Barakūda ~ The were barracuda's known for their speed and aggression
* Paiku ~ The were pikes of North America
* Masukīpaiku ~ The were Muskies of North America
* Minokasago ~ The were lion fish
* Fugu ~ The were puffer fish
* Unagi ~ The were eels
* Utsubo ~ A subtype of the Unagi the were moray's
* Onidarumaokoze ~ Or Onidaru for short the were stone fish
* Kurage ~ The were jellyfish
* Onītomakiei ~ The were manta rays
* Sāmon ~ The were salmons
* Masu ~ The were trout
* Koi ~ The were Koi fish
* Ankō ~ The were angler fish
* Shinkaigyo ~ The werefish that roam the deep sea ~ Like dark places in human form
* Kingyo ~ The were gold fish
* Petto no sakana ~ The werefish that are commonly kept as pets
* Paku ~ The were pacu
* Mārin The were marlin and swordfish
* Shīrakansu ~ The were coelacanth's
* Akarui ~ Any other werefish

## Culture

The various werefish live away from humans as they have a strong connection with the sea and prefer to stay there.

## Trivia

* The names for the species are Japanese
* There are "subspecies" of the Sakana of which they are not fish the Orcinus (were orca's) and Iruka (were dolphins) Tohora (were whales), Muneo (were octopuses and other cephalopods), Dugo (were dugongs), Hainiu (were manatee's), Suru (were seals), Kani (were crabs), Robu (were lobster's) Portan (were sand crabs), Katatsu (were sea snails), etc
Guards-The-Shoals

**Guards-The-Shoals** is a Rokea.

Fighting Mateo

## Biography

Guards-The-Shoals was the first Rokea Mateo encountered. He is an arrogant and rather annoyed hunter who wants nothing to do with humans most people who encounter him are promptly eaten. Him and his hunting party go search for betweeners or people who dare to impose them.

## Trivia

* In the second "version" of the story he is a great hammerhead

## Quotes

*"What do you want of me?"*

*- To Mateo*

*"How in hell should I know, dirtwalker?"*

*- To Mateo*

*"Dead. Fish food. Just not yet."*

*- To Mateo*

*"All right. Just know I'll eat you myself someday."*

*-To Mateo*

*"You are a Changer, I assume. What happened? Did you awaken among the bloodied corpses of friends, longing to howl at the moon?"*

*-To Mateo*

*"You wanted to mate."*

*- To Mateo*

*"You lie. There are no human born among true Rokea."*

*-To Mateo*

*"Rokea, dirtwalker, is me. And if you are telling the truth, which I doubt, you. You, however, will never know the beauty of the reefs, the strange song of the deep, nor the thrill and power of hunting with your slew. You won't because, as I said, you are destined for my gullet."*

*-To Mateo*

*"My name, or a close guess in your tongue, is Guards-the-Shoals. And indeed I do have a story. Is the gun heavy? I do hope so, Mateo."*

*-To Mateo*

*"Our history is older than any one earth, and I know it all. Your arms will tire, land-dweller. You cannot hope to escape your fate, but at least you will understand it. So listen well, and ignore the fatigue that sets in. It will catch up with you soon enough. And I hunger."*

*-To Mateo*

*"They carry Rage within them, true, but instead of calling it a "Curse," they accept it as who they are."*

*- To Mateo*

*"Moon's blood?"*

*- To Mateo*

*"No God created the Earth."*

*-To Mateo*

*"Am I boring you?"*

*-To Mateo*

*"You history is flawed, dirtwalker."*

*"You are your "God"."*

*-To Mateo*
All-Seas

**All-Seas** is a Rokea.

## Biography

All-Seas is a young great white shark, not quite 12 feet long. In Homid form, he is a man of about 19, tall, tanned, and athletic. He is not at all attractive, however; his eyes are black and set strangely in his face and his forehead is wide.

Survival does not mean stagnation. You embrace any chance to change the Rokean race, or at least try, and their biggest fear seems to be the surface world.

Well, then, you'll just have to show them that the surface world has merit, and can even live peace with the Kunspawn.

Yes, it'll take time, but what else have the Rokea got? You're not sure how you got yourself into such a tradition-bound slew, but you're about a second away from performing the Rite of Swimming Alone and getting the hell onto Unsea for awhile.

All-Seas entered his Long-Swim while witnessing a waterspout. The storm tossed and churned the water, and he was fascinated by the power of the storm, and the power to change even the Sea. After he met the Kun, he wondered about a Law that required so little change, and decided that things had been the same for the Rokea for too long.

One of his first acts of rebellion was to return a surfboard to a young man stranded on a coral reef.

Oddly enough, he didn't panic---he just seemed fascinated.

All-Seas too this to mean that there was hope for the dirtwalkers, and set out to learn about them.

He joined the Dim Shallows slew when he stopped No-Prey-Remains from eating a group of divers that was feeding sharks in Shark Bay.

Wave-Crest approved---these humans weren't hurting anything and it certainly would have attracted shark hunters if No-Prey-Remains had killed them---so he invited him to join the slew. He accepted, but just lately he's come to regret it.

## Stats

**Breed:** Squamus

**Auspice:** Brightwater

**Species:** Great White

**Nature/Demeanor:** Deviant/Visionary

**Physical:** Strength 2 , Dexterity 4, Stamina 3

**Social:** Charisma 3, Manipulation 3 , Appearance 1

**Mental:** Perception 2, Intelligence 2, Wits 4

**Talents:** Alterness 3, Athletics 3, Brawl 2, Dodge 3, Empathy 2, Expression 4, Intimidation 2, Primal-Urge 3,

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

**Knowledges:** Rituals 1

**Gifts:** Breach, Killing Bite, Restraint, First Feeling, Restless Waters

**Rank:** 2 (Shallows)

**Rage:** 5, Gnosis 7, Willpower 8

**Rites:** The Rite of Swimming Alone

**Fetishes:** None

## Quotes

*"Let me go check it out."*

*"Why would the dirtwalkers do this."*

*"It doesn't make any sense."*

*"There is more to life towards the surface."*

*"Just trust the humans for once."*
Bokul

**Bokul** is a Khan Bastet.

Feline form

## Biography

### History

Bokul was born in the jungles of India though many consider his origins a mystery since he is a very mysterious character.

## Personality

Bokul is very weary and distrusting of humans especially since a hunter shot at him once and in return killed the man. Many Bastet have begged him to trust the humans but each attempt is met with his refusal.

## Self Isolation

He is typically never seen near humans possibly to avoid human contact. Some Khan avoid him since he is considered dangerous
Eclipsed Sun

**Eclipsed Sun** is a Mokole.

## Biography

You were born to Kinfolk parents, a chief among The People and her husband. You'd be chief too someday, they said. But the tall strangers had taken your people's land, killed the animals, cut down the trees and flowers. Your people worked for the new masters, drank liquor, or did nothing at all. The old men had their eyes on you, though, and one day when you were tall enough to work, they told you that you were more than you knew. Born as the corona flickered amidst the noonday stars, you were destined for greatness, the first Dragon Chief that The People had seen in a hundred years. Then the Ancestors within you showed you how to take the Dragon shape and wield the Gifts of Sun. The "landlord" came after that and evicted The People, told them the land had metal on it, so it wasn't yours. When your mother led a protest, she was jailed and beaten to death. Survivors fled the village and the only home they'd ever known. Huddled in slums and refugee camps, The People needed a hero That's you.

Your are the leader of a native-rights guerilla movement. Despite your youth, you have scored several coups on the landlords who made your tribe homeless: maybe the courts and the judges will listen. If they don't, they can argue with Dragon's Fire. Leading your team of Kin, you have brought justice to the men who killed your mother. Now it's the landlords turn.

Your tribe of Kinfolk relies on you and almost worships you; you have two lovers among the kinfolk and would like to have a child when the time is right. You worry about what would happen to them if you weren't there. It may be time to seek allies in this struggle.

You are a Crowning, tough, confident, beloved by The People. That and 75 bhat will get you a cup of coffee. You want a peaceful solution to the problems you face, but no one seems to care. You are a king, but your kingdom is a few thousand people in a shantytown, and things aren't getting much better. Despite being an Eclipsed Sun, you are going to have to play some serious politics, and fast.

You are a good fighter, but all of your actions have been against humans. If other Awakened beings oppose you, you won't stand long. Your Archid form is ideal for jungle warfare, but you are the only Mokole you know. There must be others, and they might be friendly.

**Equipment:** AK-47, fatigues, explosives, binoculars, jungle knife.

## Stats

**Breed:** Homid

**Strean:** Mokole-mbembe

**Auspice:** Crowning

**Varna:** Syrta

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

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

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

**Talents:** Alertness 1, Athletic 1, Brawl  2, Dodge 2, Expression 2, Intimidation 2

**Skills:** Drive 2, Firearms 3, Leadership 3, Melee 1, Stealth 2, Survival 2

**Knowledges:** Law 1, Linguistics 1, Medicine 2, Politics 1

**Backgrounds:** Kinfolk 3, Mnesis 2

**Gifts:** Inspiration, Bellow, Razor Claws

**Rage:** 5

**Gnosis:** 4

**Willpower:** 5

**Sun Dice:** +1 die to apply anywhere Sun shines
Finds-The-Weaver

**Finds-The-Weaver** is a Stargazer.

## Biography

You were born in the Shanghai Zoo where they took you from your parents and forced you to be alone.

Men smelling of grease and processed food bottle fed you. They gave you injections of something to make you docile.

And then the people came. Behind scuffed up plastic "glass" they watched you.

Children pointed and laughed. Parents stared baleful upon you.

Years went by like this. You ate old meat. Your fur was run with patched of mange. Your instincts sang out and called for s different place and a better time and you had dreams of running through forests and mountain passes. But every morning when you awoke, you were still in a cage, and you grew sad and angry.

But then they came. Others like you --- wolves. But they helped you escape into the city. They took you outside and taught you the ways of mitigating your fury until it could be used, like tooth and claw, to bring down the beasts that punished you for much of your young life. Your new pack gave your one time jailer a name: The Weaver. Seeking vengeance, they took you back into the cradle of the world you hate, the domain of that cruel Queen Spider.

They led you back into the heart of the city.

Gaia is being held prisoner, just as you once were. The Emerald Mother suffers, but you can help. You can speak to the spirits. You have an unforeseen ease slipping in and out of the spirit world and can communicate with the small gods  of the forest and the city effortlessly.

You use these skills to turn spirits away from the harsh terrors of the city. You teach them how to rebel against the Weaver and bring it down from the inside. You hunt the alleys and back streets of Shanghai, and once in a while return to the forest to find peace and tranquility once more.

But then you return to the city, knowing the truth of your mission. The Weaver shall pay, for the Weaver has imprisoned us all. Freedom and balance.

Those are your desires.

You make many allies and enemies among the spirits of the city. Those who will not help you are meant to hurt you, and you attack them accordingly. You are angry, impetuous, but in desperate search of controlling your primal impulses.

You aren't angry at humans; it's not their fault. They're shackled to the Weaver, just as you once were. They aren't the casualties you seek; your true enemy lies in the Mirror Lands, and you have no problem telling the rest of your pack that.

**Equipment:** None

## Stats

**Breed:** Lupus

**Auspice:** Theurge

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

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

**Mental:** Perception 2, Intelligence 4, Wits 4

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

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

**Knowledges:** Enigmas 2, Investigation 1, Rituals 3

**Backgrounds:** Ancestors 2, Kinfolk 2, Pure Breed 2, Rites 2

**Gifts:** Sense Prey, Spirit Speech, Sense Wyrm

**Rage:** 4

**Gnosis:** 5

**Willpower:** 5

**Rank:** 1

**Tribal Weakness:** OBSESSIVE MIND GAMES

**Wisdom:** 3