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| Ilya Senkin; Former Anarch Baron - Ventrue | |
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| Topic Started: Thursday, 22. May 2014, 16:36 (3,619 Views) | |
| Tsar Ilya the First | Thursday, 22. May 2014, 16:36 Post #1 |
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Claiming Tsar
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Player Handle: NotABot (A.K.A. Graham Mason) Name: Ilya Artemovich Senkin / Khoza / Yuri Mikhailov Age: 103 Place of birth: Tsaritsyn (now Volgograd) Age of embrace: 32 Clan: Ventrue Sect: Anarch Species: Kindred Derangements: Detached from reality. Haunted. Fear of fire. (Read Notes) Disciplines: Appearance ![]() As a mortal, Ilya spent most of his life working as a farmer and as a bodyguard. That gave him broad shoulders and strong arms. He is tall and well built. His voice is low and gravely, sometimes husky. There is something about Ilya's gaze that's slightly unsettling. Some darkness inside that transpires into his eyes, as if there was something missing inside him. Ilya's wardrobe is composed mainly of elegant tailored suits and tacky tracksuits. Most of the suits are new. He also has an old Red Army uniform form WWII, but he rarely wears it. Haven A reformed warehouse in Enfield, close the Edmonton Green Shopping Centre. The place -reformed by Rostik, one of the Senkin ghouls-, has three floors: Ground floor: The ground floor has ten bedrooms with locks on the doors. These are intended to keep the new slaves captive while they are being indoctrinated. Each room has three bunk beds crammed in. The beds have chains and cuffs incorporated. There's also a kitchen and three functional bathrooms. All of the rooms lead to the central area of the floor; the living room. This room has some sofas, a TV and a small tatami on a corner. First floor: On the first floor, there is a different kind of bedrooms. These don't have locks or chains. Slaves who are already indoctrinated and loyal to the Senkin live and work there. All the rooms have laptops and high quality webcams. This way, the slaves can use all their spare time making money on erotic webcam sites. There are twelve bedrooms in that floor. Slaves who live in those rooms aren't supposed to stay there longer than a month; after that, they should be brought by a customer, or put on the streets as prostitutes. There are also three bathrooms and a huge wardrobe room where the slaves can store and pick their outfits. Basement: This is Ilya's area. Access to this area is strictly forbidden to slaves. Ilya's bedroom is simple and austere. He sleeps on a thick blanket on the floor. The room has several locks from the inside. There's another room, full of Ilya's clothes, and a bathroom. Ilya keeps an old revolver in his bedroom, but he never takes it with him. History: Part I - Customer Service - Hard Data "What do you want to know?" Continues on next post.
"Well... Everything! Who are you? What are you? When and where were you born? Tell me all about it!" The blonde man was quite excited. Maybe a little bit too excited, considering he and his family were in grave danger. Ilya smiled. It was a franc, wide smile. A fresh expression in his tired face. He checked out his wirst watch, then he looked at the wall, full of pictures of him and Maxim, his brother. It was creepy, like having a stalker, but with deeper and more dangerous implications. The blonde man's wife, an obvious circassian beauty, was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall blankly. Her belly wasn't so big yet. She was getting into the fourth month, according to Ilya's judgement. He fixed his eyes into the man. "I've got a little bit of time so, If that's what you want... I was born in the town of Tsaritryn, in January, 1911..." "So, you are..." "Old. Very old. Don't interrupt me. Then I died in the battle of Stalingrad, and then I was born again. I died again in 2001, in Pyatigorsk, but death somehow eludes me. Then I came here, to Berlin... and that's about it". "Just that? More than a century, and that's all you can tell me? Come on! I've been watching you for two months. There must be more!" This wasn't Ilya's definition of 'customer service', but if Maxim couldn't handle his business efficiently, someone had to do it. Also, Ilya liked the man. He was brave, nearly suicidal, and he could respect that in a mortal. "Okay. It's all about the family. Isn't it always? I come from an old, well respected family. The Senkin. Back in the day, as my father told me, we were the advisers of the Czars, the shadow behind the Imperial throne. We also sold women as cattle and managed every brothel in Moscow. But the winds of change tore all of that apart, leaving only ashes behind. My father, my real father, was a doctor. He wasn't into the family business. Indeed, he escaped Moscow and moved to Tsaritsyn at the turn of the XX century, becoming a rural physician. He was a bright man. I remember... My house was full of books. He considered my education a priority. I learned a lot of things from him. Every evening, he would sit down with me, and with my brothers and sisters, and teach us something new. Unfortunately, I didn't get to know the man really well; he was executed when I was nine years old. My family was, traditionally, favorable to the Empire. When the revolution started, we were among the first targets. The Moscow side of the family was wiped out quickly. My father, Artem, didn't wanted to take sides on the conflict, but he was a doctor, and the soldiers of the white army needed him. He took care of the wounded as good as he could. When Tsaritsyn fell, in 1920, all the intellectual elite of the town was charged of treason. Most of them were sympathizers of the White Army, anyway. I still remember what he told me the last time I saw him: 'Survive. Whatever happens, survive. Be adaptable; whatever you believe, whatever you think... that's not important. If you don't survive, my death will be meaningless'. He was shot in the head the following day. My brothers and sisters, all of them older than me, were involved in politics. They wanted the return of the Empire, and they were quite angry about the murder of the Romanov family. I was too young to fully understand, so I stayed behind, hidden in my mother's skirt, as they say. Over the next three years, they all got executed. The great Senkin family was decimated down to my mother and myself. Soon, I started working the fields. I was strong, and silent, so everybody thought I was a great worker. But they always suspected me as as traitor. I didn't have much of a social life, back then. Nobody wanted to be associated with someone like me; tainted by the shadow of suspicion. Years went by, and I grew up quietly. Every now and then, I went to the local pub. I drank alone, as nobody ever approached me. Not in a friendly way, that's for sure. I think I was twenty two when it happened. A drunken Red Army officer wanted to have fun, and he choose to use me as a punching bag. He hit me hard, several times. I didn't want to attack him; nobody would take my side if anything bad happened. But, at some point, I couldn't take it anymore. I punched him senselessly, and then I broke his fingers against the edge of a chair. I was blinded by rage. When I realized what I had done, it was way too late. I ran home, said goodbye to my mother, and prepared for my arrest and execution. That was the end. The police forces arrived soon enough, and they dragged me to a holding cell. The following day, a magistrate came to see me. I was expecting an unfair trial and a quick death, but life had different plans for me. The Magistrate, Grigory, took a liking of me. He was the man who ordered my father's execution, but he didn't care about that. He released me, and hired me as his bodyguard". "And then you killed him, right?" "What? No! Why would I do that? I told you not to interrupt me. If you ever do that again, I'll poke your wife's eyes out. Do you understand me?" "Yes". "Good. I worked for Grigory. He treated me as if I was his own son. He only had a daughter, Zinaida. She was the most beautiful girl I ever met. She looked... quite like your wife, here, only prettier. She was funny, clever, fresh... We fell in love. After a short courtship, I asked Grigory for her hand. He was really happy about it. We got married, and Grigory promised me to help me climb up in the ranks of the Soviet society. For the first time since the Revolution, people respected me. I was a part of the town's life, not a pariah anymore. I enjoyed those times greatly. My job as a bodyguard was easy enough, and Grigory was adamant about enhancing my education. He made me read the classics, learn new languages, practice with the guitar and the piano. He wanted me to become a Renaissance man. I was not complaining, of course. It turns out, I was pretty much good at everything. But most people in town still saw me as a mindless brute, a coward who disrespected his father's legacy by working for his murderer. These people couldn't get their ideas in order; before Grigory, I was a social pariah. After him, I was a coward and a traitor. I could live with that, anyway. Zinaida... the lovely Zinaida... She was tall, lean, blonde... I still remember her high cheekbones, her regal figure. She was just like her mother. She gave me a boy, and two girls. Anton, Olga and the little Tatiana. Those were the happiest times of my life. But then came war. War always messed things up for me. Every good memory I have, is tarnished by the shadow of war. This time, it was your people, the Germans. Tsaritsyn was called Stalingrad, by then, and the Nazi army was coming closer every day. The Reds were recruiting every man who could fight. Grigory tried to spare me, but I was too big and healthy to be missed on; the army wanted me. So I became a soldier. I asked him to take Zinaida and my kids to Kamishyn, up North, and to make sure they were safe. I would try to reunite with them once the war was over. They never saw me again. I visited them afterwards, but it was too late, and I didn't want them to think I was alive. I wasn't. Following my father's advice, I did my best to survive. I don't think I fired my rifle more than ten times during the whole siege. I just ran and hid. I saw my fellow soldiers try to fight for their country, only to be blown to pieces. The officers saw me as some sort of poster boy for the war; the soldier that didn't die. I was promoted several times, and yet I wasn't killing any Nazis. Don't get me wrong, I had no moral problems; I just wanted to stay alive and reunite with my family. The horror of Stalingrad... That wasn't something that you could survive with your sanity intact. After some months, most of the Russian soldiers were dead. We had thousands of new guys, reinforcements; just kids. They were faster, braver and more convinced of the righteousness of the battle. They died anyway. Bullets piercing their young, tender bodies; artillery shells tearing them into pieces... A massacre. And I was still alive. At some point, I started thinking it was unfair, but that thought didn't deter me. I was focused on my own survival, even if that meant sending a hundred teenage fanatics into their own graves and sneaking out behind them. I was going to survive. January 14th 1943. Twelve days before my 32nd birthday. I failed. A bomb exploded near me, and left me broken inside. I was a goner. Or so I thought. Someone dragged me out of the battlefield, and put me inside a cave. The place was way underground, and the sounds of battle were muffled by layers of stone. Three people; two men and a woman. Their faces were familiar, but I couldn't place them. They took care of me. They brought me back to health. One of them made me drink his blood. They didn't speak to me. The day of my birthday, I was cured. It was a miracle. Then, that man introduced himself. 'My name is Roman Senkin. I'm your great grandfather's great grandfather'. At first, I couldn't believe it. But it was real. I remembered his face, from my father's old collection of family portraits. He had a small painting, with that man's face on it. It was family. I was saved. Then, they killed me. And they brought me back to life. Only, I wasn't human anymore. I became a vampire". "What? A vampire? Seriously? Is that what you are? Now everything makes sense! That's why you never go out during the day! I knew it!" The man couldn't hold his enthusiasm. Ilya decided to let it go; it was understandable. "Yes, a vampire. I asked you not to interrupt me; it's hard to remember things that happened so far ago. Please, shut up. Where was I? Yes! Roman! He explained everything to me. Apparently, old Russia was a great place for us, the Senkin. We were a whole family of Vampires, a dynasty. We were the ones in control of the vice and sexual depravity of Moscow's elite. We were part of a bigger clan, the Ventrue. This clan ruled over Russia, with the help of some other clans; the crazy Malkavian, the rural Gangrel, the secretive Nosferatu and the rebellious Brujah. As it turns out, the whole Revolution was the after effect of a coup d'etat orchestrated by the Brujah. They wanted to take the power, and to start a new era of freedom and equality for all mortals and Vampires. The Nosferatu helped them out, but they were not so involved in the process. The Senkin were among their first targets, and they vanquished all the family in a matter of weeks. Roman survived, and that was a miracle. Now that I think about it, I'm sure he sacrificed most of the Senkin in order to stay alive. That would fit him perfectly... Excuse me, I'm losing focus. Oh! Stalingrad! The battle was still raging when we fled the city. The other two Vampires were Maxim, the one who is with me in your pictures, and Valera, my new brother and my new sister. Apparently, Valera was the first female Senkin to be turned into a vampire. Desperate times required desperate measures. Roman explained to me that the Brujah were chasing us. They were after our blood, seeking our extinction. He also forced a blood bond on me; by making me drink his blood several times, he created a supernatural bond between us, and I couldn't see him as less than a demigod. He was everything for me. As he explained to me, that was part of our family tradition. So, a process of forty nine years on the run started. We moved all across the country, hiding from our enemies. We slept wherever we could, as if we were some monks in a tale by Gorky. We witnessed the greatness, and the misery, of the Soviet regime in every corner of the URSS. We became the kings of the railways, and then we lost our kingdom. We tried to escape from Mother Russia, but every time we left the country, we were pushed in back again. We tried to go to Finland, but no one would give us shelter, so we had to go back to Russia. We went to Alaska, but the local werewolves were not happy with our presence." The man's mouth opened wide, as if he was going to say something. Ilya raised and eyebrow, and he closed his mouth again. "We lived in Kiev for a while, and then traveled through Kazakhstan, following the wishes of Valera's heart. They nearly killed Maxim, and we had to drag his body for nearly a year. I nearly got myself killed in Vorkuta, probably the ugliest city in the world. I got captured by a Malkavian who ran an underground gulag in town... but that's another story. During that time, I did my best to protect my old family. Every now and then, I managed to travel to Kamishyn, and look at them from the distance. My children had children of their own, and those children had their own progeny. The Senkin was slowly regenerating. I never got close to them; that would have put them in danger. For Roman and my siblings, I was always a beast of burden; a brute without a brain. I loved them, but they always underestimated me. Roman had a nickname: Mozg. It means 'Brain'. He called Maxim 'Ruka', which means 'Hand', because he was our little 'Action Hero'. Valera was called 'Zazyk', 'Tongue', as she was an excellent diplomat. Roman called me 'Khoza'. 'Skin'. I was the one who took the blows, the one who could resist anything. Again, I was a bodyguard. When there was a dangerous situation, he sent me first, to tire our enemies with my resilience. How ironic it was, years later, with the beginning of the digital era, when I was the one teaching them how to use a computer, or a cellphone. The Communist regime fell, and capitalism took over. For us, it wasn't much of a difference; the Brujah were still on our heels. In 2001, while travelling close to Georgia, we found a little town, a small paradise untouched by Vampires: Pyatigorsk. The city had a spa, and rich people from all over the country went there on vacation. It was the perfect home for our family. We were about to settle down, when something bad happened. Hummm... I wasn't expecting to get into this kind of detail but... Okay, let me explain something to you: Vampires organize themselves in sects. On one hand, you have the Camarilla, who are all about keeping our story a secret and respecting the old ones. On the other hand, you have the Sabbat, who keep a tight pack organization, and who seek the destruction of the elder Vampires. For them, mortals as mere cattle. There are also independent Vampires, who don't have any allegiance but to their own clans, and the Anarchs, who don't believe in the ideals of the Camarilla or the Sabbat. Back in the day, the Senkin family were considered Independent allies of the Camarilla. Well, a pack of those Sabbat Vampires arrived to Pyatigorsk shortly after us. Those were bad news. Sabbat packs are known for their military prowess and their cruelty. We had no business there anymore. But Roman wanted to stay, he was tired of running, so he decided we would watch the pack from the distance, learn everything about them, and then eliminate them. They created a slave trade network. They abducted rich girls from the spa, brainwashed them, and sent them to Spain, selling them as brides or just as prostitutes. The whole operation checked all the boxes of a viable Senkin business. Roman fell in love with it, and he wanted it for himself. We stayed. It was a ridiculous plan but, back then, I couldn't find flaws in any of Roman's plans, so strong was the blood bond. We became spies. But the Senkin are not made to spy, or to lurk in the shadows; we are a dynasty of kings and pimps. We are big, proud and, occasionally, loud. We tried our best, but I got captured. I was dead. No possible salvation for my poor soul. The Sabbat would drink me dry, and bathe in my ashes. Before killing me, they wanted to know more about my family. The wanted to know how to find Roman, Maxim and Valera. They wanted the whole prize, not just a part of it. So they interrogated me. They tortured me in ways you could never imagine. Their spiritual leader, a Tzimisce who called himself 'Doctor Pauk', made a great job on me. I didn't last long, and soon I was telling them stories about the Senkin. Every night, after conducting their business, they listened to my stories. They were like children, those Sabbat guys. Dangerous, psychopathic children, but children nevertheless. They loved a good story. I tried my best to make it last as long as possible, as I knew my very survival was at stake. One of them, a Toreador called Misha, developed a soft spot for me. He was in love with my stories, and he called me 'The Great Traitor'. He argued that I betrayed my father's allegiance to the White Army by joining the Red Army, and that I betrayed the Red Army by being a pathetic soldier. I didn't argue with him. He convinced Ivan, the Lasombra leader of the pack, that they could recruit me, turn me into an even bigger traitor. The idea grew on Ivan, and he finally agreed. But, first, they had to test me. The things I did to become part of that pack... I didn't want to be one of them, but the alternative was death, so I complied. The worst thing I remember is killing a pregnant woman, giving my blood to the agonizing fetus, and then killing it too, after days of agony. And that was just one of Misha's creative tests. The final one was the most dangerous one. I need to take a few steps back, for you to understand what's going to happen next. When they captured me, I was tracking Oleg, a monstrous Gangrel who was more animal than human. His deformities were so extreme, it was impossible for him not to leave an obvious trail wherever he went. Oleg was prone to explosions of violence, and he was always putting the pack in danger. They didn't liked him so much. It was their little monster, the one they all had to worry about all the time. He was one of them, but he was becoming a liability. So, they made me fight him. I won't lie to you: I was scared. Oleg was huge, he had razor sharp claws, and arms like a bear. That guy could crush anything without breaking a sweat. Another Vampire could have beaten him with speed, but I wasn't really that fast, so my options were quite limited. My supernatural resistance could protect me for a while, but he would eventually get to me, even more considering I was weak after a month of torture. He tore chunks of my flesh out. He cracked my limbs and bit me several times. But I found out his weak spot: he was dumb. He was incredibly dumb. Not much smarter than a dumb chicken. In this case, the beast of burden's intelligence was the key to victory. I never relied too heavily on my mental powers, but that time they saved my life. I made him stop. I made him roll on the floor. I made him love me, and then fear me. I pushed his psyche to a point where he was unable to do anything but tremble on the floor. I pushed harder, and I made him forget essential chunks of his life. I did to his brain what they did to my body. He was defenseless. He became target practice. And boy did I practice. I punched him until my hands couldn't take it anymore, and then I started kicking. When he was reduced to a bloody pulp, I turned towards Ivan and proclaimed my victory. He was amused, but not fully satisfied. He wanted me to drain Oleg. To absorb his essence. You must understand that, for most vampires, Diablerie -the action of drinking dry another vampire, absorbing their very soul- was seen as a terrible sin. Think of it as if it was cannibalism. A terrible sin, a social stigma. Doing it would taint your aura forever, marking you as a diabolist in the eyes of the rest of the vampires. I didn't wanted to do it. But, again, the other option was to die, and I wasn't going to exchange my life for Oleg's. I drained him. Some nights, I can still feel Oleg's spirit haunting me, like a crab-vulture-frog-bear that watches me from the shadows... This way, I became part of the Sabbat, one of the boys. They had this bonding ritual, the Vaulderie, that involved mixing the blood of all the members of the pack, and sharing it. The ritual shattered my blood bond with Roman and, for the first time in nearly fifty years, I was able to see him for what he was: a coward who used me as a tool. In fact, the Senkin had disappeared the same night I was captured; they left me for dead. The pack respected me much more than Roman; they understood that I wasn't an idiot, and they allowed me to enhance their business. I added a technological twist to their creation, putting the girls 'in training' online, for the whole world to enjoy. My idea made quite a lot of money, and the list of our customers grew exponentially. I also place ads on newspapers, offering girls a way out of Russia, promising them jobs in Europe. Now we didn't even have to abduct them; they were coming to us on their own. It was a smooth operation. Ivan really got to like me. I was obedient, creative and loyal; the perfect soldier. He spent some time with me, teaching me all about the Sabbat and its history. For me, he was just my fourth father figure; I looked up to him, and I tried to impress him, but my heart wasn't 100% there. However, our relationship proved to be a productive one. He talked to me several times about taking me to meet the bishop and some of his Sabbat big head friends. Although that never happened, Ivan's friendship and protection was fundamental in my integration process. I finally got used to the life in the pack. I achieved some degree of happiness. In my experience, great things don't last long. Five years later, I woke up surrounded by flames. My fellow pack members were all staked -put a stake through a vampire's heart, and they'll get paralyzed-, Misha, Ivan, Doctor Pauk... all of them. They were staring at me in silence, begging for my help without words. But I knew better. I didn't had much time, and saving them would put me at risk. I fled the building, and let them burn. Outside, there was a surprise waiting for me. Roman, Maxim and Valera. They were there, smiling at me with those smug Senkin faces. I couldn't understand it. How could that happen? We had security measures in place; no one could have entered our haven undetected, stake us, and escape alive. That was just impossible. And why wasn't I staked? Why was I spared? Roman explained everything with pride. Nobody entered our haven. I did all of that. It was my own making. Roman had created some powerful suggestions in my mind. I was a time bomb for the pack. It was his plan all along. He made sure I was captured, and then he waited. He won. They lost. I was caught in the crossfire, Roman's tool over and over again. I hated him. I still do. He tried to re establish the blood bond, but I resisted. I wouldn't be his slave ever again. I wouldn't be anyone's puppet. That was over. Misha was right; I was the great betrayer. I let everybody push me around for nearly a century, putting flags in my sleeve, tags in my neck, titles behind my name. I was fed up. Next time, it was going to be my choice, on my terms. I wasn't pledging allegiance to Roman again. Nevertheless, I wanted to see my business through, and I needed people to run it. My family was all I could get. I planned ahead, and taught them the ropes. I struck a deal with Roman. I would allow him to be part of the business, and the family, if he let me break the blood bonds that tied Maxim and Valera to him. He tried to negotiate his way out of the deal, but I had the upper hand; I was in control of the business, and he really wanted to go back to the good old Senkin days. He agreed. During a whole year, I practiced my Vaulderie rituals with Maxim and Valera. At first, they were reticent, but Roman was on board with the idea -as much as he could be-, so they got involved. After the blood bond was broken, and our vinculum was created, they started seeing things from my point of view. They both despised Roman, and they felt used by him. I was sure my sire was going to try to get all of us back under his spiderweb, but I had some measures in place to avoid that. I sent Valera to the United States to open a branch of our business there, and Maxim came to Berlin, to create a communications hub. Roman would stay in Pyatigorsk, sending girls to Maxim, who would process them and send them to Valera, to be sold overseas. I resolved to move to London, to open another branch. This way, our business was diversified and more efficient. Roman tried to boss me regarding my trip to London. He wanted me to pretend to be part of the Camarilla, to lie about my family, as we did before in Ukraine and in Finland. I wasn't having any of that. I told him I would join the Anarchs. He got furious. The Anarchs are popular for having a great number of Brujah among them. He tried to make me understand that the Brujah were my enemies, but I knew better than that. They were his enemies, not mine. A year ago, I left Roman in Pyatigorsk and came here, to gather my thoughts and plan ahead my trip to London with Maxim's help. I've been helping him build his hub efficiently and now, as you well know, it works perfectly. Tell me: Are you happy with your wife?" "Very happy. I'm extremely happy, and grateful". The man was still excited, but he was also scared. "I like you. You are brave, and obsessive. You've been watching us for the last six months, and you have this... this wall of trophies. Admirable. I don't want to kill you, or your pregnant wife". "Please, don't..." "If you keep on interrupting me, I'm going to get really mad. We don't want that. So, this is what is going to happen: I'm going to have a sip of your lovely wife. She looks delicious. Don't worry; I won't harm her. Then, you are going to help me destroy all the evidence you've collected. Anything that you may have about me, my brother, or any vampire will be burnt. It's a shame, such a great job... After that, I'm going to make you forget you ever met me, you ever suspected anything. You are going to lead a happy life with your lovely wife and, if you ever get tired of her, just divorce her and buy a new one from my brother. Do you understand?" "I do. But..." "Now what?" "I want it. I want to be like you. Please. I beg you. Turn me into a vampire. I need it. Please... I want to know how it feels, what's it like... I will give you everything I own. I don't care. Please..." Ilya started laughing, shaking his head. "That's funny. Seriously. For a moment there, you got me. Why do you think you are worth my Embrace? No. First, you have a family now, and you need to take care of them. Second, you wouldn't survive a week if I turned you. Third, you are not a Senkin. You are not blood of my blood. I can't just turn anyone I want -and I don't want to turn you- whenever I feel like doing it. It doesn't work like that. I'm going to ignore you ever said that, and we'll stick to my plan." "No! You can't come into my house, tell me that story, and then act as if nothing happened. You can't do that! Why did you tell me all of that?" "You asked." "There was no need. You could have destroyed my pictures, and leave. Why telling me your life? I know. There's more to it. You are testing me. Why else?" "Sorry to disappoint. I needed to put my thoughts in order. Sometimes, it helps having someone to talk to. I'm facing the biggest decision of my life, and I just need to put things in perspective. That's it. I didn't want to mislead you. I apologize for that." "That's bullshit! You want me to be one of you! I know it!" "If you keep shouting, I'll be forced to rip your wife apart in front of you, take the fetus out of her womb, make you eat it while it's still alive, and then kill you. We don't want that, do we?" The man went pale. He realized he was making a big mistake. "No. It's alright. We'll do what you say." "Don't be so upset. It could be worse. You are a dedicated, obsessive guy. Find a hobby. Collect coins, or stamps. Learn programming, or work for charity. There are so many great things you can do... Don't waste it all on a puerile obsession." "I just wanted to know where my wife came from." "And I respect that! If you want, I'll talk to Maxim. If he ever needs a helping hand in the future, he'll contact you." "Really?" "But first, you need to forget you ever met me. That's how it works." "I won't say a word, I promise!" "I know you won't." Thirty minutes later, Ilya and the man left the house, and burned all of the pictures and hard drives in a parking lot. He came back alone, still trying to figure out what was he doing in that parking lot in the first place. Maxim never called him, and nor him or his wife ever remembered meeting Ilya Senkin. They didn't divorce. In fact, they grew old together, and love eventually flourished in the couple, demonstrating that the Senkin's services were, as always, excellent. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Thursday, 22. May 2014, 17:25 Post #2 |
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Claiming Tsar
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Part II - The Hollow Man - Ideology "Do you know what's your problem?" "Enlighten me." "You are hollow. There's nothing in there." "What are you talking about?" "Don't get me wrong; you know how much I love you. I'm just saying." "Just saying... what? That I'm hollow?" "Do you believe in God?" "Is that a trick question?" "Humour me." "Well... No. I don't believe in God. I don't believe there's a superior entity up there, watching over the mortals and cursing us." "Think bigger. God can be anything. God can be watching over us, too. It doesn't need to be the Christian God." "The answer's still no. We are the product of evolution. Evolution is just a fortunate accident. It's simple. No Gods." "Caine?" "Nice bedside story. Not true. Didn't happened that way." "Then how?" "Beats me. Evolution? Mutation?" "Science can't explain us, Khoza." "Maybe they haven't tried hard enough. Maybe they can explain our nature, but they refuse to share their knowledge. Anyway... Who cares?" "You see? That's what I'm talking about. You don't have any spiritual bone in your body. You are a nihilist." "That's a strong word. I have my own beliefs." "Really? Tell me." "It's... quite complicated. I couldn't explain it like that." "So, you feel you believe in something, but you don't." "It's not like that." "Okay. Let's go to the beginning. Your dad, Artem. He was a convinced Czarist." "No, he wasn't. He felt a violent revolution would be bad for the people. He was afraid of getting into a civil war. He wasn't fond of the Czar or his family." "But he believed in something, then." "Of course. He believed in humanity, in peace, in science, in culture, in the development of the whole species." "And what about you?" "Huh... How could I believe in humanity, if I'm not even human?" "And here we go again. Nihilism. You worked for a magistrate called Grigory, right?" "Yes, my father in law." "He was a convinced Communist." "Not exactly. He believed in the cause, but he was a burgeois at heart. Boheme burgeois, as they call them in France." "Then he was a half cooked Communist." "That's accurate." "Were you a Communist, back then?" "Me? Hell, no! I was just trying to live my life. Communism was just a circumstance, something happening in the background." "But you fought for them." "Did I became a soldier? Yes. Was it my decision? No." "You were a hero." "Because I stayed alive." "We were watching you. Maxim couldn't help himself. He kept on making jokes about your cowardice." "I wasn't a coward. I was thinking about my family." "But you didn't killed any Germans. Not on purpose, at least." "Why would I want to kill them? They were as fucked as I was." "So, you sympathized with them." "I didn't said that. They were trying to kill me." "Then, they were your enemy." "No. They had their orders. I had mine. They tried to follow them. I tried to stay alive. It was chaos. The same guy who told me in the morning to go somewhere and kill some Germans, was dead a couple of hours later, shot in the head by his commanding officer. Following orders was suicidal." "Did you ever thought what would happen to Russia if Germany had won that battle?" "I entertained the thought every now and then, yes." "And?" "Well, they could have conquered Russia. Communism could have fallen. Instead of adoring Stalin, we would have adored Hitler. It wasn't so much of a change, if you ask me." "You see? Hollow. You don't believe in anything. You just analyze things, and give back some logic answer, detached from reality." "What should I believe? That mother Russia loves me? That God thinks I'm handsome? That doesn't make any sense." "And what about Roman?" Ilya clenched his fists. His eyes filled up with rage. "What about him?" "You loved him. You believed in him." "I was blood bound. I didn't believe in him. He was... he is real. There's nothing to believe there. I only followed him, and did what he asked me to do. There was no faith involved." "Not even in Pyatigorsk? The plan was terrible, and you said so." "Again, no faith whatsoever, just an obvious statement." "And yet, you followed thorugh." "Well, I couldn't see past the blood bond. He sold me out." "No. He used you as a soldier, as a tool. You have to give that to him: his plan wasn't so bad after all." "It was a miracle they didn't kill me. It had nothing to do with Roman." "You are wrong. He knew you could do it. He sent you for a reason. He could have sent Maxim, or me, but he sent you." "He didn't send me. He set me up." "Call it a bear, if you want, but you followed his plan to the letter, even without knowing there was a plan." "Alright. Let's say I did." "He knew they would recruit you. Do you know why?" "No." "Because you are hollow. You are a carcass, a bottle of some sort. Pour any belief in you, and you'll act as if you were convinced. The Sabbat guys thought you were one of them." "I was one of them." "Stop fooling yourself. You didn't believe their bullshit for a minute." "Maybe I didn't, but I was part of the group." "You weren't. You were a stranger among them, pretending to be like them, just blending in." "That's not true. I was an asset to the pack." "And they believed in you. But you never believed in them. Do you know why Roman nicknamed you Khoza, Skin, of all things?" "Because I'm tough. Because my skin resists everything. He wanted me to be his armor." "You don't know how wrong you are. He named you that because you are hollow. There's nothing beneath your skin. Not a heartbeat, not a soul. Just the appearance of live, but nothing deep inside." "You are starting to piss me off." "Sorry about that, but you need to learn the truth." "Go on." "Roman quickly realized that you were lacking in something. You don't have that burning passion Maxim and I have. You don't believe in anything but survival. That may sound sad, but it's useful. You'll probably outlive us." "You are wrong. I believe in something." "Seriously? Surprise me." "I believe in family. That's it." Valera pondered his answer for a minute. She thought about their last seven decades together. All Ilya did was trying to survive... and trying to ensure the survival of his descendants. He was right. There was something beneath the Skin, after all. She smiled. "I love you, brother." "I love you, sister." Part III - Ten Days - A Family on the Run Picture: Three men and one woman entering the back a military truck by night. Location: Ourskirts of Stalingrad. Date: Late January, 1943. Additional details: There is a man sitting behind the wheel. Beside him, a pregnant woman. The back of truck is covered with a thick fabric. Beneath it, there are five more women. They are all pregnant. Picture: The driver is digging a grave in a field. The truck is parked a few meters away. The body of one of the women lies on the ground. There are more people; some women are crying. Another one is talking nonchalantly with the remaining three men. Location: Somewhere in South West Russia, close to a road. Date: June, 1943. Additional details: The woman has been exanguinated. The baby is dead in her womb. The woman and the three men talking by the truck are not human. The man digging the grave is not entirely human, either. Picture: Five soldiers tearing apart the truck with their bare hands. The four non human characters are running away through the fields. The five pregnant women are crouching with their hands on their heads, in panic. The driver is dead, lying beside the truck's door, his neck broken. Location: Somewhere in South West Russia, close to a small town. Date: July, 1943. Additional details: The five soldiers are not human. They are looking for the four non human members of the convoy. Somehow, they've been possesed by a supernatural rage, and they are tearing the truck apart in anger. Data: Vampires need blood to function. In an optimal scenario, the average Vampire can surivive about ten days without feeding, providing they don't do anything out of the ordinary and they keep their energy levels low. Older vampires can survive longer. Once that period of time is over, they may fall asleep and awake only when they smell blood. Testimony, Ilya Senkin: "We lost our truck. We lost our herd. They took it all. We were fleeing on foot through the Russian fields. Our chances of survival were close to zero. But we had a plan. We always had a plan. We needed to get to the closest town in less than ten days, or face death. There, we would get a new truck, and keep driving. We did it. We got to a small town, crawling with Brujah. We managed to sneak into the hospital, and feed. There were no survivors. The tragedy reached the local newspapers. We stole a truck and got out of there. During the day, we slept on the back, covered with thick blankets. We drove East, to Asia. Our goal was to get away from Russia. Probably into China or Korea, but any country would do. The pattern was simple: drive for nine days, then stop and feed. We left a bloody trail of death behind us. Mortals took the deaths of future mothers very seriously, and the Brujah were tracking us. It wasn't a great plan, but it was the only way out. After five months driving, stopping, hiding, changing courses, and retracing our steps, we got to the border with China. We made it. But they were waiting for us. We lost another truck. Back to square one." Part IV - Trains, Gulags and Long Distance Trips - Rebuilding an Empire Testimony, Maxim Senkin: "Blagoveshchenk. The City of Good News. That's where they got us. But Roman was not one to give up easily. We faced them, long enough to escape alive. Our guerrilla tactics worked, and it was the first time Khoza did his work. While Valera and myself fueled their rage, Roman instructed them to attack each other. Ilya was there to take the blows, in case some of them where headed in our direction. He saved Roman's life, and ours, by extension. When the situation got chaotic enough, we ran away. We had to drag Ilya, who was wounded, nearly incapacitated, but we managed to sneak out. The truck was theirs, and we couldn't cross the frontier. We ran into a hospital and fed. Then we boarded the trans siberian train to Belogorsk, and hid with the cargo. Our strategy wasn't bad, but it needed polishing. Before, we had a small herd of followers, and a couple of ghouls. Those days were gone, wiped out by the Brujah. But the answer to our prayers was right there, in front of our noses. We took over the train. It became our home. The idea of a family of Vampires living on a train was so far fetched, so irresponsible, that our enemies didn't looked for us there. We ghouled the personnel of the railway, and fed on the pregnant passengers. Every now and then, we had a longer stop in a city, where we gathered supplies at the local hospital. For over a decade, we were the kings of the trans siberian, and no one knew where to look for us. Our train had an extra car; our home. It had four beds, a large cabinet full of sacks of blood, and it was fully sun proof. Those were great times. We had a front sit view of the development of the Soviet-Japanese War. We witnessed, from the distance, the War of Korea. We mingled with the rich and powerful as much as with the poor and needy. We had our mobile kingdom. Then, I messed up. A group of Toreador travelers entered the train in Moscow. They wanted the whole trans siberian experience. These guys loved soviet realism. They were all about it. They were, of course, Camarilla and, when they found us, they didn't know who we were. We lied. We kept things civil and social. Ilya entertained them with his guitar, while Roman tried to plot a scheme that would get them off our backs. He tried to convince them to leave the train several times, arguing they couldn't miss this or that city. But they were adamant. They liked our company and wanted to stay with us until the end of the line. He was furious. One of the Toreadors caught my attention. Julie. She was clever, lively and fresh. I fell in love with her. For some days, we were always together. There was so much to talk about, so much to share, so much to enjoy... Her body and mine were fully in sync. I hadn't enjoyed anyone else's company so much since I was mortal. I spilled out the beans. I told her our little secret. She freaked out. Roman got her before she could talk to her friends, and threw her off the train with a stake through her chest. But it was too late. Everybody pretended nothing happened. The Toreador didn't ask much about Julie; they knew something was wrong, and it was our fault. They got off the train at the next stop. They were going to contact the Camarilla authorities, and they were going to get us. We stopped the train before it arrived to Chita, destroyed our haven, and did the rest of the way on foot, dragging our most valuable possessions with us. We managed to hide in an old warehouse and, after sundown, we stole a truck and drove North. Our decade of railway rulership was over, but it provided us with a huge network of useful contacts; the Senkin Empire was growing back again, as a whisper in the underground." Testimony, Roman Senkin: "It was 1955, or 1956. We just left Chita, and our supporters were organizing our escape of the country. Meanwhile, we needed to keep a low profile. Someone had told us that we could seek asylum in Vorkuta, a gulag mining town. According to our sources, an independant Malkavian ruled over the city, and he offered hospitality to all sorts of misfits and pariahs. We could fit there. It was a massive trip. It took us three months to get there. We quickly finished our blood supply, and were forced to feed on hospitals again. But this time we were more careful; the Brujah didn't know where we were, so we could take our time and not kill our preys. Along the way, we kept on creating useful connections. This time, on the health system of the USSR. When we got to Perm, the last stop before the long trip North to Vorkuta, our supporters had gathered a great truck, and filled it up with supplies. Mainly, pregnant woman's blood. We were on the right track. We stopped ten kilometers away from the city. Even though we had heard good things about Yuri, the Malkavian Warden of Vorkuta, I wasn't risking our lives on hearsay. Also, Ilya was still quite inexperienced, and I needed to test him. So I sent my youngest son to scout the area. As it turns out, Yuri was not only a Malkavian; he was a psychopath. Ilya did a great job infiltrating his organization. His first solo mission was kind of a success, meaning he got out of there alive, and with all the intel we needed. Vorkuta wasn't a place for us. We headed back to Perm, and then we decided to try to escape Russia once again. Our next destination was Finland. We were relatively close, and we had no connections there. It was highly unlikely that anyone there would have ever heard of us, so it wasn't a bad plan after all. We arrived in Finland in 1957, and managed to stay there until 1968, when the Camarilla realized who I was. I made a great friendship with the Prince of Helsinki, and he offered me seventy two hours to leave his Domain before informing the Russian Brujah of our whereabouts. We made the best out of those three days." Testimony, Valera Senkin: "After Finland, we started our 'Gipsy' Era. We boarded a train to Moscow in Leningrad, and then we got back in the trans siberian. If we couldn't leave through the West, we would do it through the East. We got out of the train at Vladivostok, and boarded a ship to Japan. We stayed in Niigata for about three years. Ilya learned the language quite fast, and he became our interface with the world. Roman didn't liked depending so much on him, but there was no other option. Anyway, our sire didn't see it that way. He couldn't take it any longer, and prompted us to leave Japan. We tried to argue with him, but he was fed up with the language barrier. After our decades long ordeal, he was pushing us out of a nice place because he felt useless. The blood bond ensured we wouldn't be really mad at him, but our relationship suffered in the process. Back into Russia. Into the nightmare we couldn't shake off our backs. I had an idea, and Roman was willing to listen to anything that didn't involve depending on Ilya. Maybe I was naive, and I had been paying to much attention to American propaganda, but I was convinced we could build a better future in the United States. We crossed through Kamtchatka, and created our base in Fairbanks. I still don't understand how did we manage to cross nearly all Alaska without facing any problems. Even more; we stayed on Fairbanks for a fairly long time, and we never faced any danger. And I'm talking about Alaska, nothing less. We were severely ill informed. Nobody told us about the werewolves. By the time they got to us, Fairbanks was our little personal realm. All the citizens in town were desperately trying to get pregnant to gain our favour, we had the biggest house... even servants. We got too comfortable. But our old truck was always ready. Since the trans siberian debacle, Maxim got paranoid, and he wasn't up to lower the guard right away. His awareness saved our lives. And he nearly lost his. Out of the blue, without previous warning, werewolves appeared everywhere. Before we could react, one of them sliced Maxim's neck, nearly decapitating him. Roman was prepared to leave him behind, but Ilya carried his body. I did my best to appease them, to become a beakon of good feelings and soothing sensations, while Ilya and Roman started the engine of the truck. They catched me quickly, and we drove off. The good citizens of Fairbanks did a great job acting as distraction and cannon fodder for us, while we left them to die." Part V - Ukraine - Some Sort of Stability Testimony, Roman Senkin: "Alaska was a bust. We had to own our mistake, and move forward, back into Russia. Our Trans Siberian network was getting older; most of our contacts were already dead, or too old to be really helpful. We pushed them far enough to carry us back to the other side of the country. Slowly, stopping only in small towns, we made the great tripe once again. Maxim was not well. He couldn't wake up. For me, he was becoming a burden, but there were only four of us, and I wasn't up to let the Senkin die. So we carried him. It took him forever to wake up and, when he did, he wasn't the same. He was scared, paranoid, feral... I needed to do something, to repair him. After all, I couldn't help but feeling it was all my fault. I talked to Ilya and Valera, and they both agreed. For more than a month, I indoctrinated Maxim, making him forget some of the traumatic experiences lived in Fairbanks and in the Trans Siberian. I made him forget about Mikail, his dead brother, and about his mortal family. I did the best I could to put his mind in order.The results were far from perfect, but he was under control. And then we got to Ukraine." Testimony, Maxim Senkin: "I woke up past Moscow. My neck was still hurting, but I was alive. My family saved my life, and I was grateful. The episode in Alaska accentuated even more my paranoia, and my concerns for our security. For a while, I couldn't stop seeing enemies everywhere. Anyone who wasn't Senkin, was a potential rival and, as such, someone who I had to deal with. My attitude got us into trouble several times. Valera and Ilya managed to save the situation, but my instability was becoming too dangerous. On our way to Ukraine, I had a long chat with Father. Roman understood me, and he didn't sugarcoated how dire was our situation. We were in real danger, and my vigilance was the only thing keeping us alive. However, I needed to learn how to control it, how to keep my social skills from getting drowned by my paranoia. Roman suggested me to express my feelings in a way that helped me exorcising them. So, I started a diary. I wrote all my suspicions and fears on its pages. After finishing the first book, I started a second one, and a third one. Soon, I had a heavy box with me, my sacred treasure that couldn't fall into the wrong hands under any circumstance. Ukraine received us with open arms and a radiant smile. We posed as the Mikhailov family, a rural branch of the Eastern Ventrue who got annihilated by the garou a century before. Roman didn't want to get involved, so he fell asleep for more than a decade. We became model Camarilla citizens, concerned about local politics and always helping the establishment in any way we could. Ilya made some connections in the musical circles, getting closer to the Toreador, and establishing his network of art academies. Valera developed a new railroad network. After all, she was the mother of our Trans Siberian empire. It only made sense for her to go back to the world of trains, so familiar to her. I became the stay home mum of the family. I took care of our home, made sure nobody ever discovered Roman, managed the family accounts and ensured we had a steady supply of pregnant woman's blood. To that effect, I was forced to make connections in the local hospitals. I wasn't at my best, but somehow I got the job done. Meanwhile, I kept writing obsessively on my diary. It was getting too big. A whole wall of our basement, a few meters away from Roman's bed, was filled with my books. And it kept growing. I wrote several profiles on each member of Kiev's society, theories proving that they were after our blood, different scenarios where we got caught and killed. Nothing escaped my vigilance. The only thing that was out of my control was my own behaviour. We quickly learned that the Brujah were moving one, forgetting about us. Those were good news. However, the only vampires that were concerned about the Senkin now were Elders, powerful kindred who wouldn't stop until they saw us reduced to ashes. We tried to gather as much information as we could, but talking about our family was the best way of putting ourselves in danger's way. More than fifteen years went by in a snap. We were not used to so much stability. Niigata, Helsinki and Fairbanks had been just stops along the way, slight pauses interrupted only by Roman's caution and distrust. For once, I was with him. So I woke him up. I gave him blood, and he rose from his slumber. I made him read my books, understand the grave danger we were in. Ilya and Valera did not agree with me, but it was too late. Also, the blood bond made us love him without reservations, so we welcomed him cheerfully. His presence made our lives way more complicated. We could not keep him hidden forever. We had to stop throwing parties at our house, inviting other kindred over, and our presence in the city got diminished. We were forced to stay home longer, keeping Roman entertained. We all knew that our sire was a dangerous force, when he got bored. We needed to move on. We all knew it, and we were trying to postpone the goodbye to Kiev as much as possible. Then, Sir Hewson came, and he changed everything. Hewson, a proud Gangrel, was a dashingly good looking Englishman, a former explorer who had arrived to Kiev a few months ago. He was heading East, as part of an adventure he had been planning for decades. He wanted to explore the mountains of Kazakhstan. He knew that, with time, he could build a paradise for Vampires there, a new Enoch for all of us. Valera fell instantly in love with him. It was reciprocal. Also, her railway connections were invaluable to him. Sir Hewson knew about the Senkin, and I suspected he was on our track. I filled up a whole volume with theories about his true intentions. I contemplated every possible scenario, including his possible Sabbat allegiance. I only forgot to consider one option, which happened to be the right one: Sir Hewson wanted to explore the mountains of Kazakhstan. One night, Hewson was visiting. Roman got out of the basement by accident, and the Englishman saw him. We were in trouble. Both Ilya and I reacted on instinct, blocking the exits and preparing ourselves to kill him. Valera stopped us, and begged us to reconsider, to give him a chance to understand. Roman was the tipping vote, and he supported Valera. Hewson, meanwhile, only understood that he was in danger, and was preparing himself for a fight. Valera appeased him, and we sat and talked. When the night was over, there was still much more to talk about. We gave him a room and kept on talking for a week. He knew about us. He heard rumours about the lost Senkin family since decades ago, and he even showed his support for the Brujah cause at the beginning of the century. But meeting us challenged his conceptions, and his love for Valera proved to be true, as he accepted our kind and provided us with a viable escape plan. The following day, Ilya, Valera, Hewson and myself asked an audience with the Prince, and we told him we were going together to Kazakhstan. He gave us our blessing, not happy for seeing three of his most loyal subjects leave. To make things right, both Ilya and Valera, transferred control of their business and networks to the Prince. We bought a fleet of trucks, and filled them up with ghouls and personnel. Namely, pregnant women, or women who could get pregnant soon. We left Kiev, heading for Kazakhstan." Part VI - The Man Who Would be God - A Glitch in Khazakstan Testimony, Valera Senkin: "Sir Richard Hewson. Sir Richard Steven Hewson Aldwych. Rick. I said his name out loud thousands of times. I whispered it in dreams, I shouted it out loud, letting it get through my laugh. He was beautiful. I loved him as deeply as a woman can love a man. He was everything. He was nearly as important as Roman. Continues on next post.
I asked Roman to break the blood bond, to allow me to bond with my love. He refused. He said we couldn't ignore the old family tradition, and that the blood bond was meant to be created between a childe and their sire. Bonding with anyone else would be unnatural. I understood. I had to; I was bound to him. There was no possible resistance. Richard was not so happy about it but, at least, we were together, on our way to Kazakhstan. His plan was clear: he was chasing a ghost, a fantasy. He knew we could easily get there and find nothing. It was quite possible to get to the mountains only to discover that there was nothing to be found there, but he had to try. He had to know. He had that burning desire, that passion for discovery... In much ways he was more humane than most of us. Every night, he stopped for a while, climbing on top of a truck and drawing the landscape on one of his big notebooks. At first, I couldn't get my mind around it. I could only see a dark, bleak uninviting place, but his drawings shown life, beauty and colour. Not only he could penetrate the darkness of the night with his gaze, but he could also find beauty in anything. Maybe that's why he loved me. We crossed the border. For the first time, going out of Russia was not a problem. We hid Roman in a box, and nobody asked any questions. We were safe. Kazakhstan was a dirty country, poverty was obvious at every turn of the road. We were greeted as heroes in every village, and the people were incredibly generous and welcoming. There were guerrillas, too. We dealt with those easily, conquering their minds and ensuring their loyalty. We found no resistance. After weeks of driving, after crossing the whole country from one side to the other, we got to the Khan Tengri; our goal. A massive seven thousand meter high slab of rock, marble and ice, full of hidden caves and passages. Richard was convinced he could find life there; he knew the mountain was not just a giant rock, but a nest bubbling with life. Unfortunately, he wasn't wrong. We left our trucks behind, and started our trip on foot. Our source of food, the pregnant women, became a heavy burden while climbing, but we couldn't leave them behind, so our march was horribly slow. Richard was jumpy, anxious. I knew he felt we slowed him down, and he was right, but he needed us to help him get there safely. That wasn't a trip for a lone Vampire. After three weeks of frustrating advances, and after one third of our army perished due to the extreme conditions of our trip, Richard and I had a chat. He wanted to scout the path by himself, to go further and check what was there waiting for us. He was concerned about our numbers; if we kept going as we did, we would lose all of our food on the way. I agreed. We set a base camp, and let Richard advance alone. After two weeks, something incredible happened. A group of people came down. They were savages, untouched by civilization. They spoke in a language we didn't understand, and they signaled us to follow them. One of the men gave me a letter from Richard. He made it. He found his secret hidden civilization, his Shangri Lah. We walked behind our guides for two days, following a treacherous steep route. We entered a cave. It was another world. A secret city. The gardens were breath taking. The moonlight entered the humongous cave from some holes in the ceiling, producing an entrancing effect. Everything was covered in gold and diamonds. And there were people everywhere. Our people were scared, at first, but then they saw the treasures, and they smiled, filled with greed. The men carried us to Richard. He was sitting on a throne, a heavy crown in his head, people bowing in his presence. He wasn't their king; he was their God. They adored him like a deity. He told me that it was like that, in the old times. He wasn't that old, of course, but he heard the stories. Tales of civilizations adoring Vampires as deities, giving their blood as ritual sacrifices. We were those gods, now. Roman was not fully convinced of the idea, but he had to play along. Maxim, on his side, was looking for threats everywhere. They couldn't relax. Not as much as I did. Ilya... Ilya just couldn't get his head around that place. He walked like a ghost for moths, touching things and smelling them, as if he was just born. Richard gave us titles, for the local people to adore. I became the Goddess of Love. Roman was the God of Wisdom. Maxim, the God of War. Lacking of any better title, Richard named Ilya the God of Harvest and Sustenance. Of course, he was the King of Gods. As it turned out, the Phikari -that was the name of the tribe-, had no interest in war, considering they were fully isolated. They didn't quite understand the concept of wisdom, as they had no written language or culture, as we understand it. Their family structure was free, which is another way of saying chaotic. They fucked each other blindly, regardless gender, age or partnership. That meant that the whole concept of love was meaningless to them. As for royalty, the only form of leadership they knew was the one practiced by their witch doctors, and that didn't qualify as true leadership. All of that mean that our respective divinities were not so useful to them. After some weeks, they stopped respecting us, and treated us as mere members of the community. The only one who kept his Godliness was Ilya; life in the mountains was hard, and food was a priority for all of them. They prayed Ilya for rain, for sun, for better food. They gave him gifts; silver, gold, emeralds, diamonds... They offered him their women and their children, they gave him blood... everything. Richard was not happy about that, and he let Ilya know. Roman was also weary of his youngest's newfound power. Ilya didn't want that responsibility. He just wanted to be one of us, living a great adventure. But the Phikari adored him even more when he refused their gifts. The animosity between Richard and Ilya became apparent. There was no way to deny what was happening; Richard felt Ilya had stolen his dream, and he couldn't stand it. Maxim was living on high alert, following Richard everywhere and taking notes. Roman was waiting for the situation to collapse and give him a chance to grab the throne. He didn't tell me, but I knew. Richard's defiance did not went unnoticed by the Phikari. They became hostile towards my loved one. They didn't expelled him from the city, but they got close to that. After three years of living among them, they were expecting to see our good influence translated into something material. They thought that Richard was stopping Ilya from performing his divine tasks, and the explorer was given a stern warning. But Richard was a God, and his arms and legs regenerated shortly after that. The Phikari wanted results. They wanted rain and food, they wanted easy preys, the wanted nice weather. Ilya couldn't control any of those things, and yet he tried. He went out hunting by night, expecting to catch some goats easily. It wasn't one of his brightest moments. He didn't know what to do to keep them happy. They were impossible to please. The situation was dire, but nobody counted on Richard seeking Roman's alliance. Ilya was extremely loyal to Roman, and when our sire asked him to officially bestow his powers upon the Englishman, he agreed. He wasn't fond of his position, anyway, and for him this was the best way out. Richard ruled again over the Phikari, with Roman as his right hand man, as the power behind the throne. Maxim and I took a step back and watched the events develop by themselves, carefully planning our inevitable escape from Khan Tengri. If the expectations the Phikari placed on Ilya were impossible to satisfy, the ones they burdened Richard with became just unreal. Who could blame them? We were their gods, we were almighty and our power was infinite. My love and I spent less and less time together. He was too busy trying to make his believers happy, or at least trying to keep their faith up. He showed them miracles; he transformed himself into a beast, he called the animals in the surrounding area, he jumped from a cliff and survived to tell the story. They were impressed. But they wanted food. More food. My little brother, Ilya, was back again a simple member of the Phikari tribe. He wandered around, exploring the caves and the mountains. He was sad, I could tell. He missed civilization as much as Maxim did. I had Richard, and that was enough for me, but they wanted more. The Senkin nature is expansive, Imperial, we have the need to conquer and rule. There was nothing to conquer there; just rocks, gold and dirty illiterate savages. One night, Ilya came running to Maxim and me. He had discovered something, and he was quite scared about it. He dragged us to a hidden cave, one deep in the maze of tunnels of the Phikari. What we found there froze the blood in our bodies. The tribe had history, after all. The cave was filled up with drawings. Every inch was a tale of their past. That, itself, was an astounding discovery, but there was more. We weren't the first Vampires there. We weren't the first gods walking among them. Others came before us, probably centuries ago. And they got killed. We tried to interpret the story and, apparently, another group of Vampires had lived among the Phikari a long time before us. They posed as gods, too, and tried to please the Phikari as well as they could. When the tribe realized those gods wouldn't really help them, they decided that they were demons. They submitted the judgement to their highest deity: the Sun. The Vampires were staked, impaled, and let burn in the sunlight. We were in grave danger. We ran back to the main gallery, only to find that we were too late. The Phikari were surrounding Richard, who was shouting that he was a god and that he deserved respect. Roman came to us from the shadows, and urged us to leave. Richard sent me a last look, filled with love and sadness, before the mob overpowered him. We couldn't save him. We managed to snatch three pregnant women and to call our ghouls, and we left Khan Tengri." Edited by Tsar Ilya the First, Thursday, 21. August 2014, 00:40.
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Friday, 4. July 2014, 00:44 Post #3 |
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Claiming Tsar
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Part VII - There must be a place - Loose Ends Testimony, Ilya Senkin: "Back on the road. I was feeling tired, and nauseated by the fate of Sir Hewson. It was something that need to be done. Even Valera understood that. I had to creat that whole Phikari story, something epic and incredibly far fetched, something so ridiculously big, it would justify how we murdered Sir Hewson shortly after entering Kazakhstan. What? All those things Valera was talking about? A lost civilization inside a mountain? In the eighties? That never happened. After crossing the border, Maxim and I murdered Sir Hewson. He knew about us, and he was a liability. Roman was behind us the whole time. But, how could we justify ourselves in front of Valera? We killed her lover in cold blood... she wasn't going to forgive us easily. Roman took the lead. He overpowered her mind, and put her in a trance. I got the idea of the mountain civilization, and Roman liked it. For months, I told Valera the story of the Phikari, trying to make it as rich in details as possible. Beside me, Roman pushed that story into her mind, making it real. We never talk about that episode; we are not proud of what we did. We hid in Kazakhstan for a couple of years, but we didn't like the place. We drove North into the only place we really knew: Russia. We could have gone anywhere, but we all felt we needed some sort of punishment for our actions. Valera was devastated. She cried every night, looking at Sir Hewson's paintings. It was sad. And it was also a waste of food. But she was my sister, and I had to be there for her. We crossed Russia once again, from the East to the West. This time, we skipped the trains and kept the trucks. We had much more independence on wheels that we ever had on tracks. Our blood vessels died on the road, we drained them dry, and left them on the field. We couldn't do anything about them. We managed to get more food on local hospitals and we kept moving West. Secretly, I was guiding my undead family towards Kamishin, where my living family resided since the battle of Stalingrad. I needed to see them, to know they were alive and well. They were. My little kids were grown people now. They had kids of their own. I was a grandfather. Roman's reaction surprised me greatly. He was proud of me. He promised me he would never let anything happen to my progeny. I understood. They were the last living Senkin, the seed of our rebirth. We never contacted them; but we made arrangements to make their lives easier. They were protected. We drove South, as the Communist Regime fell into anarchy and chaos. Valera was getting over Sir Hewson as well as she could. She wasn't crying anymore, but something was broken inside her. She was colder, less affectionate towards the rest of the family. I tried to talk to her, but she wasn't in the mood. Maxim, on the other hand, had recovered some of his self esteem. He was more relaxed, and more reliable. We wandered for some years until he made his mind. We stopped on the way, and burned the truck that contained his dairy. A whole truck, filled up with endless volumes of memories and ideas. It was scary, but beautiful. It was therapeutic. I felt happy for him. Valera reacted in a positive way to the fire, too. We were nearly free of the burdens of the past when we arrived Pyatigorsk. It was a beautiful small town, with a charming spa, famous all over Russia. Interestingly enough, there was no vampiric presence in town. We were the first ones there. We had a lucky break, and we did the best we could with it. But it didn't last long." Testimony, Roman Senkin: "That was our place, the future heart of our Empire. The Senkin would rise again and dominate Russia, as they once did. But the Sabbat had different plans for the city. They saw, they came, they conquered. We hid. We tried our best to go undetected, but we had spent some time there already, and the tell tale signs were apparent to them. They started hunting us. It was just a pack, a small one, about eight kindred, but they were more violent and reckless. I needed to come up with something brilliant to regain Pyatigorsk. The idea came to me slowly. Maxim was useless in that situation; he had social finesse and he was good with machines. But he was too selfish and too noble. Valera was a natural born diplomat, and a clever strategist, but her physical abilities were below par. But there was Ilya. My little Khoza. He was strong and smart, but he had a much more desireable quality for this job: Ilya was easy to manipulate. He didn't believe in our cause, as Maxim did, and he didn't have strong feelings, as Valera did. He was a vessel for my commands, and a canvas for their beleifs. I could turn him into the perfect Trojan Horse in no time, and he would be none the wiser. This was Ilya's chance to shine. It took me three weeks of slow suggestion, layer after layer, erasing my footsteps behind me, hiding my will behind his sense of freedom, but it wasn't a difficult job. In absence of any kind of faith or strong conviction, implanting a secret timebomb was easy. Then, I let the dice roll, and forced Ilya's capture. It was a hard gambit; I could have lost him, but I trusted his abilities. We watched from afar how he was tortured, and how he converted to their cause. I felt the pain of the broken Blood Bond, but I knew I was right. Then, we only had to wait. The Sabbat's business operation was perfect for us. Ilya's enhancements made it even more desireable. I knew we would get our hands on it. Ilya delivered the goods. The Sabbat burned, and Pyatigorsk was ours. He was angry at me, but he needed to understand that he was a soldier in this war." Testimony, Valera Senkin: "Ilya was furious when he found out. Maxim and I hated the plan since the very first moment Roman told us about it, but we were forced to comply. Roman tried to get Ilya back under his wing, but my younger brother was too changed by his horrible experience. He was tougher, his innocence was lost forever. He pushed Roman until he agreed to allow Ilya to break our bonds. Maxim and I were not happy about it, but that was Ilya's condition to stay with us, as one of the Senkin. The liberation I felt when the bond was broken can't be described in words. I had this new Vinculum with my brothers. I loved them anyway, but now that feeling was greatly enhanced. For once, I could see Roman under a realistic light. I understood why did he do what he did, but I couldn't forgive him. He went too far. Ilya was well aware of Roman's nature, and he made a plot to protect us. With the slave trade business already established and running, he asked me to travel to the USA, to go to California and set up a branch of our business. That would mean leaving them behind, but it was the safest way out, the best way of getting far away from Roman. He had plans for Maxim, too. He had to go to Berlin, and set up the communications hub of the business. We left. That was the last time I was in the same room as my brothers, but I know I'll reunite with them some day, and we'll tell each other the stories of our trips, and remember our adventures together." Testimony, Maxim Senkin: "Setting up shop in Berlin was surprisingly easy. The Prince welcomed me as if I was one of his own family, and fully understood my tragic background. Although my line of business is quite unusual and dark, the local Ventrues respect the fact that I make money and rule over mortals. Being far away from Roman feels fantastic, but I do miss Valera. Ilya left a couple of days ago. His presence here was a blessing. He decided to stay with me, and he introduced himself to the Prince. When he asked for Hospitality, he said a very peculiar thing: 'I can pledge loyalty and respect, but I'll never pledge obedience'. The Prince didn't like that, but Ilya was just a temporary visitor, so he let that go. We have been talking a lot. It's like finally getting to know someone who has shared your life for more than half a century. Valera's right: he is hollow. He could be seen as a coward, or an opportunist, but his burden is much worse; his soul is alone in this world. It doesn't matter how much he loves us, there's a streak of eternal loneliness that never leaves him. He's been so concerned about surviving and protecting us, that he has forgotten to give any meaning to his long life. I feel for him. At least, he has ambition, and that hunger somehow fills the gap in his soul. I'm going to miss him badly." Part VIII - Down into Madness - Faithless Testimony, Ilya Senkin: "On my way to London. For the first time, moving towards freedom, not towards a new form of slavery. Roman is a distant memory now, and he can't pull the cords anymore. He won't do anything to harm me. He'll probably Embrace some of my grandkids or my great grandkids. I'm not complaining. The Senkin must survive. Valera said I was hollow, and the only thing I could say in my defense was that I believe in family. That's not entirely true, I must admit, but it's a nice starting point. If I have to be honest with myself, the only thing I can say is that I believe that I believe. I don't, but my faith in my belief keeps that doubt at bay. After travelling with me and my family for seventy years, there's still a nagging question on the air: Who am I? I'm the hole in the plot, the place good stories go to die, I'm the missing, slippery element that makes everything coherent. If we were living creatures, I would be the soul of the family, the spiritual and moral compass of the Senkin. But we are the opposite of alive, which makes me the opposite of that role. I'm the hole in the soul, an aberration that shouldn't exist. I'm a monster but, aren't we all? I'm more than a monster; I'm a reflection of what's empty. It's very easy to think that this concept involves cruelty or callousness; those ideas are wrong. I'm weak. Very weak indeed. I'm easy to manipulate. Power impresses me too much. Even after meeting so many powerful creatures along the way, even after watching their destruction, their rise and their fall. No. I'm not essentially inhumane. Reality is way more complex than that. It's also easy to think that I have no feelings. Once again, that's the wrong impression. I love deeply. I hate. I fear. I want. I lust. I'm bubbling with anticipation of what London will be for me. Feelings. Litres of feelings. My issue is deeper. Way deeper. I can be convinced to do anything. Literally. Anything. It doesn't matter how deranged or out of proportion, if the argument is compelling enough, I'll go for it. I can be manipulated until I feel whatever anyone wants. That's even easy. And again, there's this hole in my soul, making me a hole in the soul of the whole world. I don't believe. Even if I love the cause, and I agree with its principles, I don't believe. I just go along, as if I was one of the convinced ones, carrying the flag and shouting the slogans. But it's all a lie. At the end of the day, my only concern is survival. And faith is easily translated into loyalty. Yes. You could say I'm not loyal, because I have no faith, because I'm a monster, because I'm a hole in your soul. You could say that. And you would be right. Because I'm not honest, not trustworthy... not loyal. I've seen my sire alter the memories of my brother and my sister. I've been also manipulated by him, to a great extent. I've reached a point where I doubt everything. If Valera could believe the whole Phikari story, if she still believes it happened... What is real? Sometimes, I surprise myself wandering if what I'm living is real, or just another of Roman's manipulations. Why did he accepted my conditions? Why didn't he forced the blood bond in me? Some part of me thinks that all my adventures are just implanted memories, that even the present is fiction and that it doesn't really matter what I do, for the future is predetermined and what surrounds me is just a lie. That's why I don't value life, or honesty, or any virtue, because I'm living inside a fiction, a fantasy, a conceptual cage made to keep me away from the truth. And the sad thing is that I don't even care about the truth. At the end of the day, I don't believe in anything so, please, don't believe me." Part IX - Notes - From Gold to Ashes - The Senkin Family Senkin Genealogy: Anatoly Senkin (1239 - 1917), Sire of: Iosif (1311 - 1917), Artur (1357 - 1719), Arkady (1416 - 1721), Boris (1599 - 1721), Vadim (1680 - 1721), Arseni (1717 - 1918), Ignaty (1766 - 1921), Igor (1830 - 1917). Arkady Senkin, Sire of: Immanuil (1512 - 1917), Taras (1615 - 1917), Yuri (1724 - 1915). Taras Senkin, Sire of: Konstantin (1751 - 1917), Roman (1752). Roman Senkin, Sire of: Maxim (1877), Valera (1924) and Ilya (1943) The Senkin family, part of the Ventrue Clan, started considering itself a separate entity from its mother clan during the 14th Century, when Anatoly Senkin took a hold of the Domain of Moscow and started Embracing members of his own mortal family. They were one of the most important Vampire factions in the Imperial Russia, until the Communist Revolution. Although they never swore allegiance to the Camarilla, they were informally considered a part of the sect, as mere Ventrues. The family was really close to the Czars, and had great political influence. They were in control of all the prostitution business in Moscow, and provided lovers to the most influential figures in the Royal Family. Weakness: Probably because of the genetic proximity, the Senkin Vampires have all the same feeding limitation. They can only feed on pregnant women. It doesn't matter the stage of pregnancy, but the more advanced it is, the more they enjoy their meal. Another Weakness: They also have limitations on their Embrace; if a Senkin tries to Embrace a mortal who is not related to their family, it won't work. The more genetic proximity, the better the chances of a successful Embrace. That's why all Senkin vampires are members of the mortal Senkin family. Until recently, the Senkin were an all-male dynasty. Valera Senkin is the first and only known female member of the family. She was Embraced during the Brujah hunt, when the whole family was facing extinction. Everybody thinks the Senkin are extinct. Not many modern Vampires have even heard of this family. Only those who are old enough, or those who have done a great deal of research, may know about them. Part X - Just a dream? - Derangements - Spoiler - Don't read unless you can separate IC from OOC Detached from reality: His mind has been extensively manipulated via Dominate. Large chunks of his memory may or may not be false. He's also witnessed the brain washing of both his brother and his sister, and has even taken part in those processes. After those experiences, Ilya's faith in reality is getting thin. He's usually under control, but he often suspects everything around him is fake, and he may act upon that belief. As an extra side effect of being so deeply Dominated, Ilya is very sensible to this discipline; using Dominate on Ilya is generally quite easy. Haunted: After diablerizing Oleg, the Gangrel's spirit got attached to Ilya. It's a very stupid spirit, who only believes in instinct and instant gratification. He doesn't appear all the time, but every now and then Oleg whispers horrible things into Ilya's ears, and provokes animals against him. Fear of Fire: The death of his Sabbat Pack left a very deep impression on Ilya's mind. He's more prone to panicking in the presence of fire than the vast majority of Vampires. He tries to keep this a secret, but it isn't that easy. Part XI - Meta - How does this play? - Spoiler - Do not read unless you can separate IC from OOC Facts versus fiction: Ilya's biography is an incredible adventure, an extraordinary trip through the evolution of the USSR and post Soviet Russia. However, that vital experience is slightly tainted; every now and then there are facts that contradict each other. The truth is way more complicated than it seems, as three of the main narrators of this story -Ilya, Maxim and Valera- have been brain washed at least once by the fourth -Roman. The whole story about the phikari, the events with the garou in Fairbanks, the peaceful moments in Japan... Some of those situations never happened; they are fake memories implanted on the narrator's mind. At some point of the narration, there's even a reference to Mikail, Maxim's dead brother (Part V). That lonely reference is the biggest hint of what's really going on. Let's focus on the "real" facts: Facts: Ilya Senkin was born in Tsaritsyn at the beginning of the 20th century. He fought in the battle of Satlingrad and was left for dead by his peers. A Vampire called Roman Senkin Embraced him and forced a blood bond upon him. The whole family escaped from the Brujah who were chasing them through the whole Russian territory. The Camarilla Brujah had declared a Blood Hunt on the Senkin. After travelling for half a century, the family found some stability in Pyatigorsk. A Sabbat Pack appeared there and pushed the Senkin away. For some years, Ilya was separated from his family. During those years, he remembers being part of the Sabbat Pack. He diablerized a Gangrel called Oleg. Oleg's spirit chases Ilya. He learned the ritual of Vaulderie. He established and developed a slave trafficking operation. He watched the members of the Sabbat pack burn, and barely escaped from the fire. He's terribly afraid of fire since that night. Ilya speaks six languages, he plays the piano and the guitar proficiently, drives several vehicles and understands computers quite well for a man his age. Ilya is highly susceptible to Dominate. All the Senkin vampires need to feed on pregnant woman's blood. Senkin Vampires can't Embrace anyone who is not from the Senkin mortal family. Taking all these facts in consideration (I'm sure there are more), it's easier to form a mental picture of the character, even though the rest of his biography may be a lie implanted in his mind Ghouls: Rostik. Russian gangster wannabe. He tries to keep up the tough guy facade, but he's not built that way. He manages the warehouse and keeps the connection with Berlin. He's also in charge of managing the ladies. He is severely over worked and always tired. Vehicles: He's got an old white van that Rostik bought in a second hand store. He also has a bike that may break at any point. Languages spoken: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German. Edited by Tsar Ilya the First, Thursday, 21. August 2014, 00:43.
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Friday, 4. July 2014, 11:07 Post #4 |
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Claiming Tsar
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Sooner than expected: Ready for review! |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |
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| Renard | Wednesday, 20. August 2014, 19:23 Post #5 |
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Master Chief
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See PM. |
![]() Verba docent, exempla trahunt ! | |
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| Sawyer | Monday, 1. September 2014, 04:39 Post #6 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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With the requested edits made, looks like we're ready to call him... [APPROVED] |
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Thursday, 4. September 2014, 11:12 Post #7 |
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Claiming Tsar
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Disciplines:
Training threads and posts:
Rostik Originally Maxim Senkin's ghoul, Rostik was given to Khoza in Berlin, just before he moved to London. Khoza was the one setting up shop for Ilya in Edmonton Green. He is responsible for training the slaves, looking after the fortress, collecting the blood from Middlesex Hospital, and ensuring everything around Ilya works like a clock. He is always tired, as eh barely sleeps. It's easy to feel for him. However, he is quite sleazy and twisted. He is fiercely loyal, but also quite lazy, when given the chance. ![]() Olga Originally brought to London as a bride for sale, a slave to be trained by Rostik, Ilya messed up her brain washing process by using her as a target practice while training [Presence:Majesty]. During that process, she became Ilya's ghoul. He is still trying to figure out how to feel about her, and how to use her in a productive way. She is very obedient, but she has a rebellious and provocative vibe to her. ![]() Amulets (Presence: Intensification):
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |
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7:54 PM Jul 11