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The Kindred Chronicle
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THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

HOROSCOPE
MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



Across The Board
Current Chronicle: Dragons and Lions; Pride and Fire
Current Season: Spring
Controlling Sect: Camarilla



Index
Getting Started
General Information
Central London
North London
East London
West London
South London
Miscellaneous
Out of Character


Population: 31

Camarilla
Anarchs
Other
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 5 (6)
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 7
Tremere: 2
Nosferatu: 3
Gangrel: 1
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 0
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 0
Nosferatu: 1
Gangrel: 1
Setites: 5
Sabbat: ???


THE CAMARILLA

Prince

Nobody

Sheriff
Meredith Furlong
Hounds
Robyne Sheridan
Rosella Marie Allain


Keeper of Elysium
Davvad Bisset

Grand Harpy
Catherine Wilke

Primogen
Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
Brujah: Thomas Krusen
Gangrel: Alexa Mallik
Malkavian: Ellora Reese
Tremere: Hannah Sundling
Toreador: Arsenio Pozzi
Nosferatu: Dogan Khojak



ANARCHS

Baron

Khoza

Baronets
Enfield: Leslie
Haringey & Barnet: Clarice Harris
Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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Welcome To The Night

You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality.

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Hannah Sundling; Camarilla Tremere
Topic Started: Thursday, 4. September 2014, 15:09 (3,275 Views)
Hannah
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Wicked Witch of the West

Player Handle: Hannah

Name: Hannah Sundling

Age: 66

Place fo Birth: Stockholm

Age of Embrace: 30

Clan: Tremere

Sect: Camarilla

Species: Vampire

Derangement: None

Disciplines: Dominate, Auspex, Thaumaturgy

Merits & Flaws: Acute Sense of Taste

Languages: English, Swedish, rudiments of French, Polish and Spanish

Face Claim: Jennifer Morrison

Haven

Hannah is currently staying in Edgar’s sub-street apartment in Kingston. From the outside, the haven is a simple stairway leading underneath a row of residences. Up and above a classy bistro serves coffee and aperitifs. At the bottom of the concrete stairs stands a heavy wooden door without windows, just a single eye-hole and a steel bolt. There is a mailbox build in the concrete of the wall to the left.

Inside, the apartment consists out of a master bedroom containing a double bed, a wardrobe and some personal possessions. The second bedroom is converted to a study containing a desk with a laptop computer and several bookcases filled with folders, books and her tools. Any intruders will be disappointed that this Tremere doesn’t keep much in the way of occult material in her home. The small kitchen is stocked with some pasta, cans of soup and imperishables. The kitchen countertops are regularly cleaned as dusty unused ones would arouse suspicion. The kitchen also contains a washing machine. The bathroom is spartan including a bath with a shower and a lining of plastic garbage bags against the wall. Cleaning supplies are tucked away here.

Hannah drives a grey Volvo V40.

Appearance

Somewhere she has missed the exit toward beautiful, but Hannah could manage pretty any day of the week. Even attractive was possible if she put some effort into it. In the past, elegant outfits or perfect makeup didn't interest her in the slightest. Nor did she carry herself in a confident way, giving her a furtive air, looking out-of-place like she was perpetually wishing she was somewhere else. At 1.71 meters she is of average length. Wheat-colored hair crashes over her narrow shoulders reaching down to the small of her back. For practicality, it spends equal time loose as tied back together in a ponytail.

Since being appointed as Primogen, the Tremere has rearranged her wardrobe. Heels, jewelry, light makeup and an increasingly expansive wardrobe, it's all there. Pale-skinned Hannah submits to this treatment reluctantly. Ashley Amber, Millbank chantry's resident ghoul and unofficial maidservant often assists in applying makeup and is the one responsible for buying her outfits. It is the mortal woman's eye for fashion that put the appearance of a Primogen in the demure witch. While a pair of hard, watercolor blue eyes staring icicles might give a standoffish first impression, it was the facial expression that, at best, hovered between light sun on a frozen winter day and a wake in progress, that set you up with a second, more definitive one. The kicker of course, was that complicated, small smile. Shy, cruel and somehow playful all at the same time.

History

It was harder this time, harder than before. Something like this had occurred before, she had suffered a similar spell about 20 years ago. But it was deeper now, more insidious, more debilitating and seemingly without end. The time with James and Ellie had been so long ago. So much of it lay forgotten, unnecessary, no longer applicable and only to be relived through accidental memories. A turn of phrase worded just like James would when agitated or a stranger's joyful laugh so like Ellie's. Until recently, they had always been there, living their lives in Ealing, no doubt with a few pictures of his former fiancé stashed away in a brown folder somewhere, ready to cry over when required. She could drive over there and see them, provided she was in the UK, or pick up a phone. They would answer. But no longer. Now they weren’t there anymore. The same happened with her older brother, Casper and older sister, Signe.

Edgar had explained it could be like this in that rationale tone of his. The first true taste of immortality. Your former loved ones dying of old age. Immortality thrust into your face. Old people passing away shriveled, wrinkled, happy maybe. It is the most normal thing in the world. But seeing others wither and die, while your own features remain smooth and wrinkle free, drives home the point as nothing else can. The death of her generation, friends, family, celebrities, news anchors, politicians, ... Kindred do not age, physically, emotionally. The world continues on while they stay behind. Before, when she had left England, about ten years after dying, Hannah had first felt the weight of the years. Not participating anymore in events, reading papers that commented on the doings of another species and feelings of barely existing anymore had crept into her mind more and more often. No longer a human with a job and bills and possibly children, no longer the daughter of her parents, it all made it very hard to summon the strength of will to rise night after night, preferably lucid. So little left of the human made the beast push to the forefront almost effortlessly.

Her fiancée, James had gotten over her years ago. Hannah knew this, it was normal and healthy. He had passed the stage of crying, alcohol and sad music. Her best friend, Ellie had been there to soothe him. Together, they shared stories about how things had been when Hannah had still been there. And over the years, they had gotten over her; her stories were forgotten or told as their own until they stopped searching for her face in the crowd. They had married and had a son, Jason. This was a good thing obviously. She felt happy for them, with an envious lining to it. Mum had gotten over the loss of her youngest child as well, as well as these things went. So had Dad and everyone else.

Who are you when no one pays attention anymore. No longer a fiancée about to be married, best friend, daughter, sister, colleague, an avid watcher of black and white movies, frequent traveler to Mediterranean countries (although that was more because of James). She even missed the comments about her drinking. “Must we reach for a bottle every time we go to …” “Yes dear, we must”.

During that time, for a year or two, she had feared for herself. And for others. It was depression probably, although of a somewhat different kind. For all kindred the Beast was always there, lurking, waiting for a weak moment before charging to the forefront. Keeping it in check was never more than merely difficult. After learning James and Ellie got married, it had been herculean. Hannah had killed before of course. Several times in fact, every times had been accidental and she had been devastated. But by the 15th corpse … Once had entirely been Edgar’s fault and she still blamed him for that. He had found it educational and a likely taste of things to come.

The first bout of depression had meant the dead of 7 people in the short span of 3 months. Only now, years later, could she admit that none of those times had been real accidents. There had been a choice every time and she’d made it.

Daniel was dead, one of her former classmates at Uni, now with receding hairline. They had bumped into each other when she had been out shopping for clothes. He hadn’t recognized her, although barely. While staring at her several long seconds, Hannah could see him wrack his brains trying to place the familiar face and fail. “Excuse me, miss” he’d said. As soon as she made sure no one could overhear, the witch commanded him to follow, led him to a quiet corner a few streets further and drank him dry. Leaving for a few minutes to get the car, she dropped the corpse in the trunk and later pushed it down a manhole in another part of town.

Then there had been Annelyse, a girl of about 10 who walked home every day past Edgar’s apartment. Despite herself, Hannah had been curious of what the blood of one so young would taste like. She had taken a sample from the small, throbbing jugular, a little, certainly not too much. Yet Annelyse had crumbled to the floor in a heap. After a few seconds of no movement, the young Tremere panicked and called an ambulance. The child had died in the hospital the next day after a cardiac arrest. There had not been enough blood left in her body to keep her alive.

And there had been plenty of others.

But recently those feeling had come again and with a vengeance. James had died, a bit over of 70 years old. His heart was completely worn out or so she’d heard. Signe had succumbed to cancer in her seventies as well. Ellie had died in her sleep a few years ago. Mum and dad were long gone. The Uni literature department had been completely reorganized. Dean Sanders, a blowhard whose incompetence she loved to hate, was no longer there; his successor Dean Petts (she had studied under him) had come and gone and so on. The pieces of her old life, the last dying embers were disappearing and all she had been doing up to now was sitting in a fucking chair reading, fiddling with paper and thinking up inane theories.

This is what’s on her mind these days. It was also the reason the lady here was dead. Unhelpful and rude though she might have been, even after making an effort to bring back the books on time, it was no reason to get murdered and in such a way. Again the witch had intended to take only a little, leaving Ms. Bednarek no worse for wear. The books had been returned on time, mainly to keep the obnoxious librarian from complaining. Yet contrary to expectation, Bednarek had complained that one cover was stained. The Tremere, vexed, irked and irritated beyond what was reasonable, had indeed taken just a little and then left the wound open for no reason other than watching the mortal’s life seep on the white floor tiles. It hadn’t even been difficult to see the blood go to waste. Gushing on the floor of the ladies’ room, the frantic heart pumping out life until there was nothing left. Only after the corpse hit the floor and her feet became warm and wet, did she panic and call Mr. Poe. He owed her for the favors she occasionally performed to help him with his work. A smile threatened to creep up on her, but didn’t quite make it. The likes of them were what she had to associate with now. Maybe a little despair was only natural.

Hannah Sundling. Unremarkable and bland are keywords here. Her parents were Swedish, but they moved to London on an expat assignment and never left. Tomas worked as an asset manager in a large bank. Mum Christina, a nurse in Stockholm, found work in a London hospital. Hannah had 2 older siblings, Casper and Signe.

Born in 1948, her childhood had been uneventful. She did well in school, very well even. A bit awkward and not interested enough to pay attention to what was going in the lives of the young people around her, she had few friends. Always part of the nerdy group that clung together out of some sort of survival instinct, she was into books, eating healthy, classical music and rock (Hannah plays the piano and a bit of violin as well), dissecting small and medium-sized animals, swimming, horror movies and musicals.

While her brother became self-employed and set up a business renovating the gardens of the wealthy, her sister followed in their mother’s footsteps and became a nurse, in ’66, Hannah attended London University. 4 Years later, she took a degree in Literature with a fascinating specialization in the effect of language on how people perceive reality. She was also an accomplished, but mostly self-taught copyist. Until the 1990s, most copyists worked by hand to write out scores and individual instrumental parts neatly, using a calligraphy pen, manuscript paper, and a ruler. Handwritten copying require significant understanding of musical notation, music theory, the musical styles and conventions of different styles of music (e.g., regarding appropriate ornamentation), and strong attention to detail and past conventions. She’d taken an introductory course at one point and it suited her perfectly. During this time, Ellie Haigh and James Albers were her best and only friends.

Her father agreed to let his daughter continue to attend school to get a medical degree. She relocated to Toothing in Wandsworth and attended St. George’s as a med student, later opting for a specialization in cardiology. During these years, Edgar St. John, an alumnus and a respected psychiatrist, and Hannah became, not friends, acquaintances. They met during an evening reception when another alumnus was nominated for the Noble prize medicine, which he didn’t get. He was a short individual, smaller than her, with a tiny little beard, hands adorned with several rings and a preference for red (he wore a dark red suit and probably had to have travelled far and wide searching for such a potent symbol of bad taste). He was a lively conversationalist though, despite his slight stutter. She remembered thinking that, if he changed his clothes and shaved the beard; he probably would have looked passably handsome. The stutter made him endearing, the small stature could be forgiven. When the conversation turned towards her own interests and proficiency in calligraphy, manuscripts and engraving, she hadn’t been able to contain her enthusiasm and spend the better part of an hour in monologue discussing the merits of various inks. He wanted to meet her later that week and look at a book of his. It was falling apart and badly needed to be mended, as close to the original as possible.

When they met up a few days later in his apartment in Kingston, he showed her the worn book and asked her opinion. The first thing she noted was that it wasn’t dusty. The fold was worn very thin and some pages were loose. This was odd as usually it is the cover that suffers most. This book must have seen heavy use and recently. 17th century, a book on animals, or at least creatures. Edgar paid her £1.000 to restore the book. He took pains to press upon her that he expected the result to be impeccable. Slightly hesitant to associate further with the odd man, the young woman decided the opportunity to indulge in her hobby and get paid good money for it was too perfect to pass up.

2 Weeks later, Edgar contacted her again and asked if he could already get his property back. She refused and asked for more time. A week later, the same happened. After 4 weeks, She was finished. It turned out to be a book on mythological animals, most of which she had never encountered in any myth or story. She was rather proud of the result. It was her best work to date. Painstakingly, every page, every image, every engraving and almost every word had been tended to carefully. It wasn’t as good as new, but it would never be closer to it. Edgar was thrilled and then some. Promptly, he commissioned her for the remainder of his library.

Mr. St. John’s collection of books was utterly massive. Her jaw dropped at the sight of it. The work he required of her for would take years, if not decades. Flattering and lucrative although it may be, she had no time or intention to for an undertaking such as this. Hannah gave the name of a professional firm who could assist him and that would be that. He was insistent, offering more money. She remembered refusing. There was simply no way there would be enough time. It would half her adult life. There were classes to go to. A life to get on the rails. As of recently, she had to spend several months a year working in hospitals (for no pay) as part of her education. She distinctly remembered refusing.

2 Years went by. Edgar was very understanding of her schedule and allowed for plenty of time off. Still, a large portion of her free time was spent in that stuffy apartment of his. It lay below the street level, was sparsely decorated and didn’t offer any windows. In the evening when he had time, Mr. St. John was a busy private psychiatrist, he aided her with her classes as best he could, mostly with Latin and the theoretical basics. His practical knowledge of medicine had long since become outdated and useless. He marveled at the insights into the human body of the age. She was lost as to why she kept returning to the bleak apartment day after day.

The short Tremere ghouled the young med student soon after. He simply couldn't keep up any more with his own lies and stories about nocturnal habits, etc... Tired of pretending, he had simply blown past her mental defenses and forced her into drinking from the bottle of red wine in the cupboard in the corner. It was just plain easier that way. No good with confrontations, Edgar didn’t want to any hassle and make a scene out of it. Never pronouncing the word, Edgar was squeamish about blood, odd for a medical professional. Maybe this is why he had chosen psychiatry. His own he had drained into a wine bottle for the purpose, a red wine bottle as he didn’t even like seeing the color.

Hannah never graduated and never got her medical degree, a fact she regrets to this day even though it was not her decision. Regent Sanderson of the Millbank Chantry, learning of the work some human was doing for Apprentice St. John privately and approving of the results, wanted to meet her and work on the Chantry library. Edgar was instructed to petition the prince of London for the right to create progeny. Having been awarded this right, without any ado, Hannah was embraced into Clan Tremere. In a very circumspect way, he drained her within an inch of her life. Just as oblivion descended to claim her, the vampire produced the familiar bottle of Bordeaux wine and a funnel. Gently placing the latter between her dying lips, he poured in the contents. The dark red liquid set her innards alight. A rending
experience. Hannah remembers waking up, feeling half-dead, half-alive, and wracked with a hunger that feels like ants chewing apart every square inch of her arteries? A powerful, painful thirst awakened, drowning out coherent thought and rousing the first rumblings of the Beast. It was only after she learned he had originally planned to kill her after a few years and her work had progressed.

Hannah had never fully taken to the undead state. The unease she had felt during the first weeks at not feeling a pulse, no longer sneezing or being cold, had barely left. The keratine in her nails hardened. All small blemishes had more or less disappeared from her face, brushed clean by the pallor of death. Silly things like a bathroom without a toilet in the novice’s quarters, the various business arrangements and practices her fellow novices got up to and talked about and most importantly the accusation she saw in the eyes of a mortal man or woman every time she had to go out and feed. How new Tremere got tired of that look. How could anyone ever get used to that?

Clan Tremere had helped her keep her personal finances mostly intact. Her father had made good money and had provided his three children with a generous stipend. Hannah had saved nearly all of it. After her disappearance, Scotland Yard started a search. After they threw in the towel, all her belongings would go to her heirs. With no children or spouse (at the time you had to be married), that meant her parents. The clan had provided her access to an account that had vanished from the bank’s and police’s radar soon after the deposits. Not that she had needed much money. Like most young Tremere she spent her time living in chantries, but it would surely come in handy back in London.

As expected, besides the general instruction as an apprentice of the first circle, she was commissioned to work on restoring the grimoires and scrolls of the Chantry library. The initial years had not been too different from her previous life. Having been at Uni and spent the majority of time studying, Hannah progressed to the second circle in her second year. Meanwhile, a lot of different tomes passed by her, everything from an arcane symbol listing to metallurgy, to airplane development. After a few weeks, she didn’t look at the sentences anymore and just concentrated on the ink and curving lines.

After only 2 years in London, it appeared that the overseeing Lord had requested her presence and services in Lyon. She moved to France and continued her work and instruction. After that came Tel Aviv, Boston and Warsaw. You can understand it is hard to reestablish something as “roots” when travelling around to this extend. While being allowed time for her own projects, besides the formal instruction, she was expected to spend considerable time amongst the books. Hannah chose to spend much of her free time reading and when the internet became common, in discussion with like-minded online peers. Some topics of interest she had kept informed on or performed research on are:

- Cardiology

- Forensic Medicine

- Hannah performed research on Thaumaturgical countermagic. This discipline is already well-documented, but still inefficient. The effort and difficulty to undo even basic blood magic is high. It was even more difficult when the incantation being countered was unknown to the caster. The principles were up for review aiming for greater efficiency and more general application. This was not an easy field to make progress in as lack (or confidentiality) of information on Setite, Assamite, Necromantic or any other kind of foreign magic, made much of the work trial and error. The lack of readily available practitioners of these magics kept much of it theoretical.

- Hannah participates in discussions on and reads and writes articles on the effect of clan (both the sociologically construct as the supernatural properties it bestows and the interaction between the 2) on the behavior and psychology of its members both as individuals and as a group. The desired goal was to come to a sort of schematic for each clan. If one knew the age, time and area of residence when mortal, gender and a few other parameters, it should be possible to make fairly accurate prediction on patterns of behavior, expected disciplines, opinions on various topics and likely areas of influence. For obvious reasons, Clan Malkavian was omitted as an exception because of the variable and so far unpredictable nature of each member.

- Due to her background on notation, she also researched what was commonly referred to as “inscription”. This is the practice and set of guidelines adopted to put several thaumaturgical rote effects and rituals on paper in such a way that less advanced thaumaturges (or even other non-thaumaturges) could invoke the effect. This science was underdeveloped and the amount of instruction that needed to be written down on paper was excessive. As a result, the amount of invocations and rituals that could be put on paper was limited for practical reasons.

- At some point, she was involved in the ever-present research the clan did on vampiric nature. The foremost of her contributions were in the area of staking (why did a stake affect kindred in such a way, why was the effect paralysis as opposed to say final death or even extreme pain, why does it have to be wood, why the heart, are there ways for the immobilized kindred to defend itself …). Also, investigation was done on human blood. After having delved into the fruitless and mostly abandoned research into a kind of philosopher’s stone to transmute base materials (i.e. water) into blood, her subsequent research focused on nothing less than the holy grail of all vampires: how could one, through ritual, increase a quantity of blood. In cooperation with Esteban Gutierrez, a fellow Apprentice in Tel Aviv, they had managed to increase a liter of human blood by as much of 5%. After the initial feeling of ‘Eureka’ had worn off, it soon turned out the ritual made the whole amount of blood unfit for consumption. Like food, the vampiric body simply regurgitated the liquid. The resulting liquid is also unable to re-enter the bloodstream of the original body. Research continues.

In every city, the young Tremere was an infrequent visitor of Elysium. Being out and about did wonders for her mood after being cooped up inside for lengths of time. However, the lack of time available and the level of conversation that went on during these events, made her not bother often. Another concern was that she felt she was not exactly socially gifted or knowledgeable on the current social affairs to guarantee she wouldn’t inadvertently commit a grievous social error, something that would embarrass her or the Clan. She attended the occasional evening lecture in a university or went out usually alone to take in a musical or visit a comedy club (Warsaw and Tel Aviv were not good places for this at all).

After several decades of travel, meanwhile having progressed to the 4th circle, she was transferred back to London. The work on the library there, which according to the specifications she had received, had grown even more, needed work again. The prospect of returning home was exciting in a way that surprised her.

Clan Tremere arranged everything to do with the relocation. Right out of the gate, a few resolutions were made. Foremost was that she would get out more, not only to connect with her kindred peers, but more importantly reconnect in limited fashion with mortals again. Appalled as she was about the urges and the absence of an appropriate emotional response, this needed to be fixed if she planned on being part of this world for much longer. Likely she’d also just be plain happier this way. Humans were not meant to be solitary, therefore neither were kindred. Nobody is fit to face eternity alone and who better to commiserate with her woes than her fellow undeath.

Also on her list was the intention to start looking into establishing some sort of powerbase. If she was going to be part of the landscape of the London Camarilla she would need influence in mortal society. Boon swapping was made Elysium tick after all.

Since Edgar had since been transferred to the Bristol Chantry, Hannah had requested to fly into Bristol to visit her sire. From there, it wasn’t such a long drive into London. Edgar still retained the apartment in Kingston she had worked in before and had been delighted to offer her to stay there as long as necessary. Having seen enough of the inside of stuffy Chantries at the moment, she happily accepted his offer.
There is nothing sadder than seeing dead eyes staring out of a dead man's face, particular when they're still moving ...
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Hannah
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Wicked Witch of the West

I edited the history correcting a few spelling and grammar errors. I also put the list of research topics seperate and added all languages she is proficient with.

Several times, several symbols in the text come through wrong after a copy/paste from Word 2007. I have no idea how to fix this.

After spending more time reading several strings of IC posts on this website, my application looked a bit bloodless compared to some of things that happen in London. I changed a few things making her a bit more lethal without overly changing the character.

The way I view this character is as a person who has lived a cloistered (un)life a bit insulated from social contact. Her research contributions are significant for her age, but her social savvy, both avenues is which Clan Tremere seeks to do well, she is lacking.

Also, after years of existining in this way, when the last threads tying her to mortal existance snap and in her mind, normalcy,, snap, she is thrown in idsarray and faces losing her sense of self in face of the beast. Drifting further away emotionally from caring in a mortal sense, she understands this cannot continue much longer if she wants to continue being more or less who she was before and in the long run survive.

The idea in London is to bring herself to step away from her desk and into mortal and immortal society, stumbling at first, but hopefully more confident later on. Of course, more comfortable shouldn't mean bloodless.

There is nothing sadder than seeing dead eyes staring out of a dead man's face, particular when they're still moving ...
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Sawyer
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
* * * * * *
Report to the chantry, because it looks like you're-

[APPROVED]
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Dialogue color = #9F4438
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Hannah
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Wicked Witch of the West

Dominate
Command
Mesmerize
The Forgetful Mind

Auspex
Heightened Senses
The Spirit's Touch
Telepathy

Thaumaturgy
Path of Blood
Taste of Blood
Cauldron of Blood

Rituals
Donning the Mask of Shadows
Burning Blade
Illuminate the Trail of Prey
Eyes of the Past
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