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| Andrej Basarab; Tzimisce | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 1 2014, 03:43 AM (187 Views) | |
| Andrej Basarab | Jun 1 2014, 03:43 AM Post #1 |
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No Longer a Stranger
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![]() Name: Andrej Basarab Gender: Male Nature: Monster Demeanor: Autocrat Age at Embrace: Thirty Three Date of Embrace: 12th Feburary 1210 Years since Embrace: Twenty Place of Birth: Partes Transsylvanæ Religion: Born Christian/ Atheist Clan/Bloodline: Tzimisce Disciplines: Auspex(3), Animalism(3), Vicissitude(4), Dominate(2), Potence(2), Fortitude(1) Road: Road of Kings (Path of Tyranny) Merits: Promethean Clay (5) Flaws: Territorial: Peasant Dwellings (2), Eerie Presence (2), Repulsed by Garlic (1), Appearance: Andrej is a regal creature standing at six foot and built of angular features, broad shoulders and impeccable visage. With the discipline he is forever tweaking himself with Vicissitude, ensuring his appearance is just so and that he looks like the perfected nobility that he seeks to present himself as. He has stark, piercing emerald eyes and long black hair that flows to shoulder length. His body is unblemished with wounds but this may purely be down to vanity and excessive use of his clan discipline. Personality Andrej holds himself as a man of both honour and a man of his word. His word is law. Those who have him on their side have a friend for life while those who earn his ire have an enemy for eternity. He perceives every slight as an offense to his honour and as such he is shameless about exacting these slights a thousand fold upon the offender. He claims the peasant dwellings as his own, despite the court never confirming nor denying if he does control it, which creates an odd enigma in his personality. He is shameless about making examples of the mortals that would question him or his decisions and yet for the most part, he is a benevolent ruler of these lesser mortals, guiding them with a fair hand and ensuring they aren’t inflicted heavily by the actions of Cainites or actions of their own doing. History: Wretched Interloper. You step into this, my domain, without invite. Without calling. Without the decency to do me the courtesy of requesting my permission to enter my demesne. Had you simply asked, you would have been offered the fullest of my hospitality, you would have been treated as if a king had entered the hovel of the peasant. Simply put, you would have been welcomed with open arms and would have left with your belly full, your spirit strengthened and well rested for the long road ahead. No matter. You are here now and I am not a Ventrue. I will still extend my hospitality to you, despite how much it might pain me, and grant you the benefit of the doubt. You didn’t mean to enter my domain intentionally? Of course you didn’t. Like I said, it is blood in the water and little more. Come, come. I will regale you with stories of myself and of the old country. You, in turn, may make my demesne yours and leave after a days rest. I insist. My mortal lineage, a hearty and strong breed of warriors is one of the purest within the Kingdom of Hungary. Romanian nobility that retain their holdings in their ancestral lands despite the coming of the Magyar Usurpers and thieves that hunger to claim our lands. Our people willingly took in the Huns into our breeding stock, for they were well renowned for their prowess and strength when compared to the weakness that seems to sicken the Holy Roman Empire like a blight. One need only look in the direction of the Ventrue or the Toreador to see the truth in those words. The bloodline furthermore remains untainted by the blood of the invading Moors or Magyars. Couple this with the fact that the family was the first to undergo the blood oath of the Tzimisce long before the invader Atilla came to these lands, it is obvious that even from birth I was vastly superior to the rest of humanity. My mothers milk, that wretched woman’s name was Stela, was laced with the sweet nectar that I would come to know as the Vitae originated from my progenitor and would be sire, the Knez Eugen. His wicked blood coursed through the veins of my kin just as freely as the blood of kings and conquerors flowed. Her milk would be laced with the sweet vitae that filled her veins by slitting her breast during feeding of her babies. In truth while this might seem vile to your… unrefined and undignified palate, it levelled the playing field and ensured we were always the best at the tasks our Knez put forward. A Basarab on the battlefield was stronger than your average human with a feral ferocity and the capability to tear a man asunder with his bare hands. This being before we count any of the modifications that the Knez deemed necessary. My father, the great Vladimir Basarab, was one of the greatest of rivals to the Magyar invaders and their power in the country. He vehemently opposed to Kingdom of Hungary’s control of the country and thus sought to garner allies amongst not just the peasantry or known nobles of our native lands but also the aid of other nations socially, politically and militaristically. With the blessing of Eugen, I was sent off at the age of eight to Constantinople to be educated and trained . Under the tutelage of Byzantium Greek tutors, I learned the ways of Mathematics, philosophy and natural philosophy. I learned to speak Latin, German and Old Church Slavonic. I was further trained in the ways of combat, guided in the teachings of Geography, Tactics, horse riding and skills at arms. For eight years, I served dutifully in the Byzantine Courts and in return my lessons continued. As the so called Omen War between my patron’s Clan and that of the mystical mage clan began, I was called back to my ancestral homeland to lend my aid in the war. At the age of seventeen, I was placed in charge of a collection of soldiers and peasants by Eugen and ordered to ensure the successful raid and destruction of a Tremere ‘chantry’ that dared to be erected on the outskirts of his lands. A nervousness filled my throat, fear I would assume, it seemed obvious, to one as intelligent as I, that my demise would be relatively soon. For I had little more than petty mortals that were beneath my notice to aid in this task. Nonetheless we took the risk and the attack regiment was prepared. “My fellow countrymen! I announced to them. For too long have these oppressive witches sought to be our downfall. These heathens seek to undermine our god with their blasphemous sorceries.” I raised my sword upwards into the air and pointed at the mystics tower in the distance. “In the name of the Lord and in his son, we send these heathens screaming back to hell!” With that, I charged at the chantry screaming at the top of my lungs and clashing my sword against my shield. The plan worked greatly. No longer were the mortals trembling with fear but now they ran off fuelled onwards by a religious fervour that saw them actively seeking out the Usurper witches to introduce their blades to the magi gullets. We were victorious. As night became day, the home of the wizards lay burning and their corpses lay scattered among the gored remnants of many that fought under my command. I reported my success to the Knez the following night which saw much prestige being bestowed upon my bloodline. The success of the attack elevated me in his eyes beyond that of the lowlier beings that sought to dwell in the lands of Eugen. Please, I became his personal enforcer bringing his terror to those who would seek to supplant him or those peasant who sought to openly rebel against him. My time among the common folk learned of the location of many of the Usurper allies and spies who dwelled in the shadow of his domain. No mercy was offered to any of them. One by one they fell to my blades or were dragged kicking and screaming before the Lord. Those that entered his castle never left. I personally led the charge against those Usurpers that sought to overthrow Eugen's control of the land. They came with fire and spell. Sword and ruin. The truth of the matter was that my skills and that of the depleting militant group under my control were not able nor capable of holding back the many Cainites that sought my Lords demise. Some were slain, yes, forced back to hell but many more overwhelmed the town under my protection and made their way for the keep. My vitae sought to heal the few fatal wounds I had suffered but there was not enough to truly recover and finally I collapsed into exhaustion… I awoke the next night buried six feet under. “Ah, my good sir!” I could hear Eugen’s voice through the soil. “My beasts and creations saw to it that the Usurpers were driven off… I’m not overly pleased you failed.” A tick in time as Eugen mused. “No matter. I have made you Cainite. I couldn’t let my prodigy be stolen away by the Tremere. My patronage of you cost far too much. Claw your way out and then come see me…” For hours I tried to claw my way through that dirt. It was tight and compact. As my fingers bled under the grasping at the soil, more fell from above covering me in the dirt and grime, undoing much of the work that had been done. It was twenty minutes from first sunlight when I managed to pull myself free from the soil. A ravenous hunger overtook me and a malignant force sought to see to it that I took my sustenance and sought shelter from the lights rays soon. I broke my way into a peasant dwelling and feasted on the family until nothing remained flowing through their veins. I then huddled in a corner away from the door and single window and slept the sleep of the dead. I bowed my head before Eugen, my sire, and listened to his ramblings. The descriptions and explanations of the Curse of Caine. The summary of the powers available alongside the banes. It was a mere formality. I was Revenant, knowing of the Cainites since before being able to walk. And so his explanations were simple and to the point. Despite being among the undead, my duties for Eugen had not rapidly changed to those I had as a mortal. I still served as his force of will upon the populace and I still sought out and fought the Usurpers. The difference was that now I had an equal footing with them. Our fights weren’t as one sided. Under Eugen’s guidance I learned how to establish control of mortals through fear and threats. Under the tutelage of his master torturers, I learned how to rip the secrets from those unfortunate to come under my grasp. Yet even as I continued to learn and master the powers of my ‘condition’ my heart and mind ached to establish its own domain. I yearned for the power and the fact was blindingly obvious to Eugen. We both agreed that his lands would be constantly under attack and that in order to better protect his holdings, we would need the aid of the other clans in seeing to it that the Usurpers never gained a foothold in the Cainite Courts. With this we agreed that I could establish my own domain in England as a vassal to him. The trek to England was long and perilous with numerous times where my caravan needed to avoid the gaze of the Lupines and the watchful gaze of the Tremere but luckily I got to my boat unscathed where several weeks were spent hidden in the cargo of the ship and feasting on the blood of rats, stowaways and the odd crew member. The boat docked in Estheim. I spared no time and ensured I was introduced to the local Primogen and Prince as soon as possible. While I do not officially hold the peasant dwellings as my own domain, none have sought to question my control of it and the mortals are better for it. Those that seek to bring the churches retribution on me are butchered, mutated and strung up as an example to the others. The few that remain loyal and do not hinder my work of undermining the Tremere are rewarded with better bodies and protection from the many plagues that blight the city. I have begun working on a lasting agreement with the Graverobbers. In return for their aid in the courtly intrigue and a sharing of knowledge, both mundane and mystical, I ensure that they have a supply of mortals for their research and I ensure any prominent persons that they may snatch are never missed.
Edited by Andrej Basarab, Jun 2 2014, 02:40 AM.
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