Marcela Soledad

[swift]

Name: Marcela Soledad
Nick Names or Alias: Marcy
Age: 167
Aesthetic Age: 23
Gender: Female
Sexual Preferances: Bi-Sexual
LClan: Gangrel
If Other..:

Sect: Camarilla
If Independant Faction..:

Rank: Primogen
Generation: 7th
Powers (Disciplines):

Animalism *****
Fortitude ****
Potence ******
Protean *****
Celerity ***

Deformities:

Derangement(s):

Derangement(s):

Misc.:

Nature: Survivor
Demeanor: Cavalier
Path: Path of Liadere

Merits:

> Gift of Proteus:
This merit allows the Gangrel to "fine-tune" the shapes achieved by the Protean Discipline.

> Berserker:
The Beast is in her, and she knows how to direct and make use of it.

> Werewolf Companion:
She has a friend and ally who just happens to be a werewolf. (Glass Walker)

> Underworld Ties:
She has both influence over and contacts in the local Mafia and organized street gangs.

Flaws:

> Nightmares:
She experiences horrendous nightmares (Daymares?) whenever she sleeps.

> Prey Exclusion:
She refuses to feed on animals, her Gangrel lineage and upbringing has made her bond closer with animals than most. She tends to get offended if she witnesses others feeding on anything but a human.

> Enemy:
While it's true that the Sabbat generally kill Camarilla kindred on sight (and vice versa), she is very high up on their list. She's killed several important elders of the Losambra out west, which has incurred their wrath in particular.

Misc.:

Nature: Survivor
Demeanor: Cavalier
Path: Path of Liadere

Merits:

> Gift of Proteus:
This merit allows the Gangrel to "fine-tune" the shapes achieved by the Protean Discipline.

> Berserker:
The Beast is in her, and she knows how to direct and make use of it.

> Werewolf Companion:
She has a friend and ally who just happens to be a werewolf. (Glass Walker)

> Underworld Ties:
She has both influence over and contacts in the local Mafia and organized street gangs.

Flaws:

> Nightmares:
She experiences horrendous nightmares (Daymares?) whenever she sleeps.

> Prey Exclusion:
She refuses to feed on animals, her Gangrel lineage and upbringing has made her bond closer with animals than most. She tends to get offended if she witnesses others feeding on anything but a human.

> Enemy:
While it's true that the Sabbat generally kill Camarilla kindred on sight (and vice versa), she is very high up on their list. She's killed several important elders of the Losambra out west, which has incurred their wrath in particular.

Appearance:

Fashion Sense/Style:

In a word? Functional. Since she has a more hands on approach to her dealings in the city, she doesn't wear anything she can't bare to see torn to tatters or drenched in blood. Blue-jeans and tank tops, military surplus jackets and beat up hiking boots are all part of the norm. She generally only circulates between three or four sets of clothes in a given week and doesn't put a whole lot of stock in maintaining her wardrobe. She owns a little white dress that hasn't seen the light of night in two centuries.

Personality:

Marcela, much like her mother, is a creature of passion. Of course, this passion takes on so many forms it becomes difficult to discern it as such. The fire within her has only intensified since her embrace, the beast within has complimented her indomitable nature. Whatever she pursues, she does so with determined lust.

She is fiercely independent, like most of her clan and insists on performing tasks that other Primogen would sooner task their childer with. She is very driven by her convictions, which are surprisingly honorable for the most part.

She follows the path of Liadere, which promotes an affinity for nature, she actively seeks to protect it wherever she can. She see's the Vampiric condition as part of nature (Tremere being the exception) though absent from it's cycle of normal life and death. Instead, she see's the kindred gift as simply a longer cycle, that grants unlife as long as the kindred is able to survive it. Survival of the fittest is as applicable as it ever was in her eyes.

Having these deeply contradictory beliefs, one would think her a disciplined, emotionally guarded type who never wavers from the crusade. While the presumption isn't without it's minor accuracies, Marcela indulges in vice with a proportionate amount of vigor. After all, to deny the beast within her would be an anathema to what she's become; a divine predator. She's survived unfathomable circumstances and needs to celebrate it until she's bloody well satisfied.

Physical-Strength: 12
Intelligence: 10
Speed: 11
Leadership: 10
Melee: 5
Unarmed: 12
Ranged: 10
History:

Marcela Soledad was born in Austin, in what was then known as The Republic of Texas, on June 8th, 1830. Her father, Alfonzo, was a soldier of the Texan revolution. After the war he married a feisty farmer's daughter by the name of Marta. They settled down, built their own farm and started a family. Marcela was the first child born of the couple, Marta would later birth two sons. As soon as Marcela was able to walk, she was put to work on the farm. Her father was a strong proponent of tough love, his years had taught him that the world granted no lasting peace or safety and wanted his children to be able to survive and thrive in the fledgling nation.

She learned how to shoot and ride a horse near expertly by her thirteenth year, and regularly helped in the back breaking work of a farm hand. Her parents saw to it that she received a decent education, which in those days meant the regular attendance of Sunday school. Eventually, she learned to read, something neither of her parents had accomplished. Her deeply religious mother would often ask her to read the bible to her in the evenings. Though Marta tried to instill the fear of God in her daughter and beat her up side the head when she took the lord's name in vain, religion never garnered her interest. Her distaste for it grew with each passing year.

By 1846, whispers of war had reached Austin. Mexico prepared to retake the Republic of Texas, while the United States poised to defend and annex the nation. Like most in the Republic, Alfonzo supported the annexation, they were Americans now.

Alfonzo prepared to go to war once more against Mexico, only this time with his fifteen year old son Luis at his side. Gender politics being what they were back then, Alfonzo refused to allow Marcela to join the war effort, and instead insisted that she take care of Marta and her younger brother, Ramon. The war erupted throughout the south-western states, Alfonzo and Luis were posted on the front lines of the Texan border. Six months into the conflict, Marcela received a post; her father and brother were killed in action. Her mother was heart broken and became very ill, she refused to leave the house months on end. Stricken equally with grief and rage, her emotions fueled her to take charge of her family and the farm. That same year as winter began, the Mexican military launched an assault on Austin.

The ensuing conflict was devastating. The military pillaged the family farm, they killed their livestock for food and emptied their silos. Unable to cope with the destruction, Marta took her own life by hanging herself. Marcela took her brother and fled the city. They began their long march north.

Without food or water, the two refugees could not last in the wild for long. Marcela used what her father had taught her to survive, hunting jack rabbits and cutting cactus for drinking water. They wandered for weeks, with only the occasional sound of distant gun-fire for company. One fateful evening, after a long day of traveling, Ramon crossed paths with a rattlesnake and was bitten. Marcela tried to suck the poison out, but he died in her arms shortly after that. She buried him in the desert. She had no faith or hope to cling to, so she immersed herself in hatred and found the will to go on.

A few days later, Marcela came upon a U.S. Calvary encampment. John Barker, an officer of the regiment, took immediate notice and took mercy on her, sheltering her for the evening. Marcela told her story to Captain Barker, to which he empathized greatly. She requested that she be allowed to join his regiment and fight. He compromised by allowing her to fetch water, tend to the wounded and deliver munitions to the front lines. Over the course of the next year, Marcela participated in countless battles on their march southward. More often than not, Marcela would take the place of a wounded soldier and join in on the skirmishes. At first the Captain was dismayed, but she showed formidable ability as a soldier so he didn't make an issue out of it for long. By her eighteenth year, the Mexican-American war was over, they had won...but at a cost Marcela never wanted to pay.

It was then that Marcela and the honorable Captain parted ways, but not before he granted her a horse, supplies and some payment for her services. Directionless, she wandered the wild west, living off the land as she went. When food or water became scarce, she spent a few weeks in various settlements and cities. Life in the western territories was harsh, but she was built for it. After years of odd jobs, cattle driving and saloon tending, she caught rumor of gold in California and left to seek adventure in San Francisco. Thousands of caravans flooded west and more and more people filled the former quiet of the wild paths she walked. One evening, while setting up a campfire, she was approached by a mysterious man with a wild brown mane, pale skin, and ancient, predatory eyes. He asked to join her and she agreed with some reluctance. They conversed for a time, his words falling strange and archaic to her ears, his accent difficult to place. He introduced himself as Karsh. After an hour of talk, Marcela began to pack up and retire for the night after having said her farewell to him. Once her back was turned, he was upon her and wet his fangs on her blood. She struggled pointlessly as she was drained almost completely and dropped to the dusty earth. She choked on his vitae as he performed the embrace, then left without another word.

She awoke to the smell of burning flesh. The sun had begun it's ascent over the horizon line. Primordial terror overtook her as she fled for a nearby cave within a gorge. Bewildered and filled with an alien hunger, she kept shelter till the sun set. Her newly acquired instinct guided her to a lonely caravan that had set up camp for the evening, a company of five men. She approached them, her clothes stained with blood and soil, pleading for food and water. The outlaws turned their guns on her and suggested they take payment for their sundries out on her in trade. When the first man lay a hand on her, she broke it. Another man shot off his revolver into her gut. She went into a frenzy, slaughtering them all and feeding till she had her fill.

Once she came back to her senses, she witnessed what she had done. At first she was convinced she had become el Chupacabra. Yet somehow, she already understood the strange new beast inside her. It was simply a survivor, one that was even more adept at being one than she was. Longing to understand what she had become, she trekked onward toward San Francisco, where Karsh was undoubtedly headed. She fed on other travelers as she went, learning quickly how to feed without killing and find the most suitable prey.

She had never seen so many people in one place as she had in San Francisco. The gold rush brought people from all over the continent, even Asia. It was an assault on her kindred senses, it would be a challenge finding anyone in that mess of industry and commerce, let alone another predator that was more experienced than she. One night, she caught scent of something familiar, of blood that was distinctly inhuman.

She wandered the docks, following the scent, till she found a wild eyed beast of a man, suckling at the corpse of a woman. When she approached him, he attacked immediately. He beat her to the ground and went for her neck, her beast erupted instinctively, giving her the strength to fight back. She struggled with the monster like a pack animal fighting for dominance, till finally she gored his neck to the bone and tore his head from his shoulders. As his ashes crumbled beneath her, laughter arose from the darkness. Karsh revealed himself and offered his hand. It seemed she had earned herself some answers.

Karsh explained everything to his childe. She was a kindred, a vampire, a predator. She was educated first about the Sabbat, as she had just killed one of their number. Then came the Camarilla, the politics, the masquerade and finally her lineage. She met other kindred of the city and learned just how far the rabbit hole went. Karsh explained that they were at war with the Sabbat for control of California. Karsh trained her for combat and the ancient disciplines of the Gangrel. Once his trust and affection was gained, Karsh imparted the knowledge to her that he was formerly a general of the Ottoman empire. His penchant for tactics and charisma lent weight to his story.

As she learned, she joined in battle with the Sabbat, growing to hate them with a burning intensity that grew with each passing night. The centuries passed and the struggle went on, painting each night in the blood reveling monsters. She traveled with Karsh throughout the south-west, wherever the fight was to be had. Though they were endorsed by the Camarilla, they rarely took orders or payed any fealty to their elders. Instead they remained mostly independent, viewing their alignment with the Camarilla to be more convenient for their antagonism toward the Sabbat. Centuries passed and the two continued to wander the continent, running across even stranger creatures than they from time to time.

Around 1940, Karsh received word of his sire's death in New York City. Revenge led them to the east coast and to the capital of the world. The Prince offered his condolences and presented Karsh with the evidence. They stalked the city for his Sire's assassin, their hunt eventually lead them to a Tzmisce haven. The assaulted and destroyed all within. The Prince was so impressed, he offered Karsh the position of primogen for clan Gangrel, to take his sire's place. Reluctantly, he accepted. New York became their new home.

The city took some getting used to, but time was clearly on their side. Marcela adapted to the concrete jungle as readily as every other environment her life had taken her through. A new Prince came to office after an assassination, formerly a Ventrue primogen named Julian Hartford. A few years later, during the mid 1960's, Karsh learned of turmoil in Vietnam and Clan Gangrel needed the best of their brood to combat the shifters and kuei-jin that threatened to snuff out their presence completely. The Prince elected Marcela to take his place as Gangrel Primogen.

Her time in the city was well spent, she had amassed some heavy influences in the criminal underworld of the kine and had forged a friendship with a werewolf of the city, through which she played a fundamental part of negotiating a general cease fire between the kindred and the wolves. She is able to walk Central Park unmolested by the tribe that protects it. As there aren't many Gangrel in the city, and even less that are aligned with the Camarilla, Marcela does much of her own dirty work.

Through her gang and mafia contacts, she sells the products brought in from the docks by the Prince and the Giovanni. Despite her own profits, she still maintains a modest haven, a loft apartment in The Bronx--though most of her time is spent on the street, where the battle rages on against the Sabbat. Many of her resources go toward the war effort against them, though some go toward the cultivation of environmental projects throughout the city, as adherent to her path.

[Iota]

looks good to me.