Post by sletzo on May 28, 2010 21:40:09 GMT -5
Name: Christopher Jamison
Nick Names or Alias: Chris
Age: 393
Aesthetic Age: 22
Gender: Male
Sexual Preferances: Straight
LClan: Gangrel
If Other..:
If Independant Faction..:
Generation: 9th
Powers (Disciplines):
Intelligence: 11
Speed: 12
Leadership: 9
Melee: 8
Unarmed: 13
Ranged: 10
History:
Nick Names or Alias: Chris
Age: 393
Aesthetic Age: 22
Gender: Male
Sexual Preferances: Straight
LClan: Gangrel
If Other..:
N/ASect: Anarch
If Independant Faction..:
N/ARank: Baron
Generation: 9th
Powers (Disciplines):
Animalism 4, Fortitude 5, Protean 5Deformities:
Protean Fight Form(4): Cougar
Protean Flight Form (4): Golden Eagle
Yellow Eyes of a CougarDerangement(s):
N/AMisc.:
Chris spent a long time by himself throughout his unlife. The majority of it, infact. As a result when he speaks, his voice is quiet and generally fairly calm. If not someone with exceptional hearing, in most instances people need to move closer than they were to begin with to hear him.Appearance:
Fashion Sense/Style:
His body is lean and fit, though not particularly toned. He isn't exceptionally tall, standing at a lean 5'9, he isn't the most imposing man.
His fashion sense is...odd to say the least. Only recently having started to wear shoes again, his steps are careful. When he can avoid driving, he won't even bother with shoes in general, especially if he's not walking on pavement. He'll almost only ever wear jeans and a button down shirt, tee-shirts are too constricting. He'll ALWAYS wear dark sunglasses that conceal his eyes from the outside, except when he's looking to make a point.Personality:
To sum him up in two words, it would be, quiet and calm. He's spent so much of his time alone that when he speaks his voice is so quiet it's just barely above a whisper. It's extremely rare for him to shout or scream or yell and if you hear him growl, it's a safe bet that it's time to run.Physical-Strength: 13
He's generally calm though and not easy to rile up. His life in the wilderness by himself, taught him the value of keeping his cool. He's been known to stay perfectly still for hours at end, as one method of hunting...if anyone even knows him.
He's generally fairly nice, though he is territorial and if someone intrudes on his territory and seeks to upset the status quo, he would react very quickly and harshly and it would take nothing short of direct sunlight to get him to stop...or leaving his territory again. Boundaries mean everything to him and if he's in someone else's territory, unless they disrespect him badly, he'll generally mind his own business and not seek to upset things, as such he expects the same in return.
Being a Gangrel, what few things he declares his own, he'll defend to the death and kill those that threaten. He's declared humans his own in the past, though not all. But he's killed to protect them and willing to do so again, if threatened. He's not a mindless murderer though. It actually takes a real threat for him to even consider killing, he respects life too much.
Intelligence: 11
Speed: 12
Leadership: 9
Melee: 8
Unarmed: 13
Ranged: 10
History:
Christopher Jamison was born in 1617. One of a new generation of Americans, born in the Jamestown colony in Virginia. He was born into a god fearing family and learned early on to pull his weight. He didn’t have any school to go to, not for long at any rate. So from a very young age, he was helping his father to grow what food they could and hunt what they couldn’t. Life was hard, although he had been born after the ‘starving time’ it still wasn’t easy. Food was still fairly scarce.
In 1632, Christopher was already fifteen years old. A man in his own right. His mother had died in 1628, his father was still strong but less able to be as active as he once had been. This meant Christopher had to do more to pick-up the slack. It was because of this that he started hunting on his own. Hunting was a difficult task, risky and dangerous, it required faster reflexes than his father had anymore. As such, his father spent more time tending to the plants and less time out killing game.
It was while he was out hunting that his life would change forever. In 1639, things changed for the better…or worst, depending on how the events are looked upon. With how long it took to reload the muskets of the time, getting more than one shot off at a single target, wasn’t all that likely. As a result that first shot had to take down the prey, this meant that Christopher had to be a good shot. And he -was- good, that was to be his downfall. He was out hunting when he spotted, what he thought was just another deer. Christopher took aim and fired…the shot found it’s mark. Unfortunately the animal didn’t die. It ran off, blood leaving a trail behind.
Christopher returned home that night, determined to find the deer he shot the day before and finish it off the following day. He went out the next morning, bright and early and began the hunt anew. He followed the blood trail that was left behind. Gun primed and ready to fire as soon as he found his prey. All day and into the night, he tracked and tracked his target. Being careful to avoid bigger predators that lurked in the woods. When he finally reached the end of the trail, he was more than a little stumped. What he saw when he finally found his intended prey, was a dirty looking Indian woman, sitting patiently…waiting for him.
The woman attacked him, without a word. He managed to get his only shot off, unfortunately the musket wasn’t pointed in the right direction, so it instead hit a tree and the ball embedded there harmlessly. Christopher was not so lucky. The woman bit into his throat and before he realized what was going on, fed him her own blood and then left, just as quickly as she had attacked him. He was left on the ground, in the middle of the woods, dying.
The next night, Christopher woke up in a cave. He was a vampire now, not that he knew that or realized it. All he knew was that he was in pain and hungry, unfortunately though, his musket was gone. This left him with the unhappy task of either trying to find his way back to the colony and home or trying to find food. He opted for food first. Armed with just a knife and a large hunger, he hadn’t eaten for two days before this. He eventually found a squirrel and killed it.
That night he discovered how much more satisfying blood was over meat. The next several nights were harsh for Chris. He had no one to explain to him what had happened and no one to explain to him why he was suddenly finding blood to be far more satisfying than a steak. A week passed like this for Chris. Surviving on animal blood, as he lived in the cave…for he had never actually seen this particular cave before, so finding his way home was unlikely.
It wasn’t until a week went by that he saw the Indian woman who had attacked him, once again. She calmly walked up to him and after a long game of charades, managed to explain to him what he now was and why he was eating blood. He followed her back to her home that night, learning her language just as he was learning what his new life would involve.
Time flew by for Chris. Decades passed by, his new life was filled with nearly constant movement. He was learning about it all from his Sire, who’s name he found out was Naira…she only ever told him one name to call her. Every night they went over new ground, hunting new animals. Every night they skirted passed more and more dangerous areas. More than once in those days, they found themselves running from either other Gangrel or worse…Lupines.
In 1692, they even found themselves being hunted by a pack of particularly angry Sabbat. Evidentially they had encroached on the pack’s territory and being only two, they weren’t exactly looking to find upwards of eight angry Sabbat. The pack chased them for weeks, all the way up to New York. And then it got the pair cornered in the Adirondack mountains. They didn’t know this ground or area at all. The fight that occurred was vicious and animal. The pack attacked them en masse’, eight angry Sabbat attacked with everything they had, trying to kill Naira and Chris. The battle raged and raged, Naira and Chris fighting back to back, doing their best to keep the Sabbat from flanking them and killing them both.
Unbeknownst to the pair that fought for their very un-lives, or to the Sabbat with murderous intent, they had an audience. Another pair of Gangrel, having claimed this particular area the battle was fought on as their own territory, watched from tree branches. Naira met with final death that night, leaving Chris to fend off the remaining 6 Sabbat on his own. Seeing his Sire die, a woman he had grown close to over the last fifty or so years, sent Chris into a frenzy. He saw nothing but red as he attacked the Sabbat, unable to control himself. His only thought was to kill those who had taking the only person he had left that he was close to.
Now, if there’s anything to be afraid, it’s a Gangrel in the grips of Frenzy, controlled entirely by it’s inner beast. The Sabbat soon learned the truth of that statement. When there had once been six Sabbat left, that number dropped quickly down to just three. And then the tied turned. The remaining three figured out just far gone Chris was, and altered their tactics to put that knowledge to use. Just as they were about to strike and kill him however, the two Gangrel who had been watching decided it was time to step in. Chris had proved he was strong enough to survive on his own, his Sire evidentially did not. The two new Gangrel made short work of killing the three remaining Sabbat who weren’t prepared for the new attackers.
When he finally calmed down, Chris was given a few brief moments to mourn the loss of his Sire, before it was explained to him in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome in the pair’s territory. He would meet with the same fate as his Sire if he remained. Not one to stay where he wasn’t wanted, Chris headed off on his own. Completely unaware of the lasting effects of what occurred earlier.
In the year 1700, he finally learned what that lasting effect was. He had made his way out west. While trading with some Indians in the Great Plains for some new clothing, he was asked by one of the children about his now very yellow, Cougar’s eyes. His only answer was to flee as fast as he possibly could, he didn’t kill humans after-all and he wasn’t abut to kill a child, even if he did. So he fled and ran as fast as he possibly could.
Far more aware now of something that he would have to hide from humans for fear of being exposed, he avoided not just the territories of Sabbat, other Gangrels, Camarilla, Lupines, and all the other threats that existed, but also humans. He made a small home for himself in a hollowed out tree stump, far from any river or streams, knowing that was where most stuck to. The next few decades went by slowly but uneventfully for Chris. He rarely saw anyone he could converse with, so he conversed with the other animals. He hunted them exclusively as he needed, and rarely ventured out of the territory that he had claimed as his own. Unlife was quiet and peaceful, it was the ideal. Every so often, he would have to scare off would be explorers from his territory, but he found ways to do that without killing them. The Native American’s who ventured into his territory met with the great white spirit of a Mountain Lion that had been murdered by the White Men. They quickly learned to steer clear of his home and didn’t need to be told twice.
An entire revolution occurred. A new country came to exist. Chris had no idea. His unlife consisted entirely of minding his own business and ensuring his territory remained his. The threats came every so often but quickly learned to leave his territory alone. It wasn’t much. Barely an acre. But it was his. News of the greater goings-on in the world never reached his little home. Things were quiet and remained that way for some time. Men, Women, Vampire alike died in wars that Chris never even knew were occurring. Blood spilt and the land was destroyed, this news never reached him. Expansion into the West began. Chris never learned of it.
A century of solitude passed by quietly and uneventfully. And things began to change. Chris had begun to long for the company of others, but had none. So he buried that longing. It was given a spotlight when the humans came. With the Louisiana Purchase of 1803, humans began to explore the new land. Chris’s territory happened to reside inside in it. In 1806, eleven years shy of his two hundredth birthday, explores stumbled upon his territory. Chris was unaware of what had occurred in the greater world, so treated them just like he had done the earlier explorers. Did his best to scare them off and convince them to step one foot further into his territory would mean their deaths.
…It didn’t work. They were particularly determined to see every inch of this new land that was acquired so recently. The five men, muskets at the ready, for they had already been scared considerably, wandered farther and farther into his territory. His no killing policy was temporarily given an abrupt hiatus. Claws out, he mauled the men one at a time. The first went down after he went too far out of sight of his friends. When they finally found the body, they thought a bear or wolf had done it. Two went off together, leaving the other two behind, to search for the animal that had killed their friend. Muskets were fired when he attacked again. -That- alarmed the rest.
Unfortunately for the two that had gone in search of him already, by the time they returned to their friends, they were already dead. The dark was not their friend. It was Chris’s though. He knew this ground like the back of his hand after a full century of hunting on it. When he struck this time, he took out one of the remaining two. The last tried to build a fire to at least see what was killing his friends. The final musket was fired and missed. Like what had occurred almost two hundred years ago, this final man met with a fate worse than death. Or perhaps better. He was embraced that night and dragged off to a cave to protect him in the day.
A week later Chris tracked down the man he had embraced. The very first thing he learned was that his Childe should have been chosen with more care. He was dead, a peculiar pile of ash, given final death by the sun. That was hard for Chris. The one he had chosen to give him company proved to be a bad choice, the odds of encountering another human any time soon were small as far as he knew. A fit of depression set in, the encounter with the humans had given him hope for a chance for connect with another once again. A chance to maybe learn of the world…perhaps discover if any of those he once knew were still around. Just maybe find out the actual year.
Two years passed, and then more finally showed up. His depression hadn’t lasted forever, but it did last for some months. These new explores were not like the previous ones though. It was 1807 and already a family was looking for land to turn into their home. He didn’t want to make the same mistake as before though, so instead of simply looking to scare off the adventurous family or kill them all, he retreated from his own home. He went further into the wilderness, just far enough to not be noticed. And then he took to spying on these humans.
He learned much in the next few years. Watching the humans from afar, the ever present eye of the wild. He became protective of them, despite never speaking to them. Each night he awoke and then went just to the edge of where they had made a small home and studied them. He learned nothing of current events beyond that Jefferson had made a good deal, but of course Chris never knew who that was. He did his best though to protect the family though. Little Claude, the youngest son. Marcel, the oldest son. Luc, the father. And Liliane, the mother.
Two decades passed this way. When the children wandered too far, Chris guided them discreetly back without revealing himself. When the father when hunting, he had an easier time finding his prey. When the mother was at a stream for too long and drew the attention of a few angry wolves, Chris covered her retreat. Life was active again, far less quiet. Though he never said a word, Chris looked upon the family he protected as though they were his own. And then things took a turn for the worst. The mother died of Pneumonia. The father of grief soon after. Only the two boys remained and Chris did his best to ensure they always found food. He never once said a word to the two, but he grieved their loss with them. This was his family, and it lost two members within a few months.
…Like they always do, things soon changed. Other families moved into the area, staking small claims on the land they found and removing more and more of the wilderness. Chris had to move further away from what remained of -his- family, for fear of discovery. He did so quietly though. Soon he discovered though, that human blood was better than animal blood. The new humans were not family, they could disappear without any feeling of loss. Chris took to feeding on these new humans, while still keeping an eye on Claude and Marcel. Now though, if anyone gave the two a particularly hard time, they encountered Chris and disappeared for good.
Unlife was eventful. It was changing and exciting again. It was risky and dangerous. It was downright…fun. It might not have been the quiet, peaceful unlife that he had enjoyed for a century, but it wasn’t bad. Things happened that couldn’t be expected. Chris could only observe from afar though, he couldn’t speak to any of them. This brought forth an intense feeling of loneliness once again though. Unfortunately for Marcel, Chris was determined this time to not make the same mistake he had once made.
In 1830, he abducted both Marcel and Claude, separately to make things easier for himself and retreated farther and farther into the wilderness. Once their, he embraced both and then separated both by twenty miles. Two weeks went by before Chris managed to return to both of the boys he had embraced. What he saw, did surprise him. Both had managed to survive alone and more than that, both were still sane and strong. Marcel was the first he went to. He explained to his Childe just what he was and how he had protected him for so long. He told him everything over a period of three nights. When the explanations were finally done, he posed his Childe a question. Did he want to join him continue to live this new unlife or did he want to meet his god? Marcel made gave the answer that only a man of faith could give. He wished for death and tried to take Chris with him. Chris made short work of the man and left in search of Claude.
Into his second week of unlife, Claude was found by Chris. The same conversation, as what was had with Marcel, occurred. Claude was given the same choice. He chose instead to follow Chris. Together the pair made their way out to Washington. Along this long journey Claude explained this new world to him and told him of the large changes, that he was now living in a new country that was -not- apart of the English Empire anymore. He learned who Jefferson was and Washington, although the actual names meant little to him. He learned all he could of the changes that had occurred and was more than a little taken aback by them all. In turn, Chris taught Claude all he knew of what it now meant to be a Vampire, of the threats that existed, of the animals that wore human skins and called themselves Sabbat and Lupines and the risk both posed.
Together, the pair made it to Washington in 1844. Forty-five years passed mostly quietly for the pair. They claimed their own territory and together they defended it as necessary. Humans entered the area and drove them back, inch by inch. Chris made sure that Claude didn’t fight them. It wasn’t their place, despite being immortal, to fight with humans…they were too weak to raise a proper fight and should be, as such, left alone and respected. Sure, they could have killed them, but Chris reasoned it wasn’t their place to do so. If other humans wanted to, or Lupines or other Vampires even, that was their decision. But Chris would not allow his own Childe to kill humans. Not without first being attacked and given real reason.
Claude did reconnaissance for Chris and entered the human’s world occasionally. He could mix with them and not give himself away. He could blend in while Chris could not. It was through Claude that Chris learned that the entire area they called home, was going to become a state and that would mean more humans and more land being claimed by them. It was for this reason that Chris made the decision to Claude and venture down into Mexico.
They moved faster now, both knew what was required to survive on a nightly basis. As a result, they were able to split up, to a degree, and search far ahead for the required area and nearby blood source. They always met up each night, and together they moved quickly. In a matter of just two years, they managed to make it into Mexico. In 1891, they claimed a fairly large amount of territory as their own, not far into Mexico.
Encountering no resistance, time went by slowly for them. Well on his way to three hundred years old, Chris went into Torpor. Claude was left to watch over him as he slept. Claude did a good job, eventually however, a sense of wanderlust struck him. In 1921, Claude took Chris’s Torpor possessed corpse and buried it deep underground. After doing his best to ensure that plenty of animals called the area home and even some humans, Claude left to wander on his own.
Decades passed and Chris slept. Wars were waged, countries rose and fell, and still Chris slept. An entirely new world arose, changes happened fast and hurriedly. The ways of the past, died out. New ways and codes for living were born. New weapons were created, tested, and used. In 2001, the sleeping Gangrel finally awoke. After clawing his way out of the grave, the naked Vampire knew only hunger and hunger moved him. He followed his nose to the first source of blood he could find. Just at the edges of a small Mexican town, Chris fed on a particularly loud barking dog. And then another and another until his thirst was finally sated.
While wandering through the poor town, he discovered just how much things had changed. Breaking into a small house, he stole some clothing, nothing fancy or elaborate. Just a pair of jeans and an old tie-dyed tee-shirt. A young boy happened to see this occur and unfortunately for him, he wore something that Chris had never seen before. Dark sunglasses that concealed his eyes from the outside. Acting quickly, Chris took the sunglasses from the boy and left his body still warm on the ground. The claw marks led the authorities to believe it was a rabid dog, like the one that had killed the other dogs found.
The next, almost decade, was spent on the move for the Elder Gangrel. Nights passed by with him just taking in the sights of this truly new world that existed. His eyes forever concealed behind those dark sunglasses as he went. He slept in the ground itself and fed on whatever humans he could, doing his absolute best to not kill them. After all, he still respected the humans, why would he want to kill them?
And so it went, Chris learning as he went of this new world that the humans had created. He still knew enough to detect most other…non-human creatures before they could spot him, using that he did his level best to avoid them all. Unfortunately it didn’t always work. In 2005, he encountered a pack of vampires, of mixed clan origins and learned that the metal beasts they rode were called Motorcycles. He ran with them for a time, though he couldn’t drive himself, not at first at least. He did eventually learn how, as well as just what these other ‘clans’ of vampires were…his Sire had never known of them, so she couldn’t teach him herself. Along with this, he learned just what the Sabbat actually were, as well as the Camarilla, and what these Vampires were…they called themselves Kindred for some reason and declared that they were Anarch and throwing off the chains of oppression that the Camarilla had shackled them with.
A short four years later, Chris found himself in New York once again. With a new found knowledge, he decided that the freedom that the Anarchs spoke about and the Masquerade were good. Consequently he established a very small haven in Anarch territory. After a brief meeting with the current Baron, he set about actually taking part in a life among the Kindred at large, learning as he went.
