Ivy Shadow's History
I started my life in a typical 1936 middle class family. My mother was an actress on the stage, my father a teacher at the local high school. The outward life, the one seen by the public at large, was one of happiness and serenity. However even after my birth I can remember being beat and left for days with nothing. It was no surprise after my birth came that of two brothers and a sister, all of whom I hated and wished dead. My father was a brutal man, insisting even at the age of two, that I be a perfect child. During the day I spent my time locked in the celler or attic, where they would not have to deal with my childish habbits. My mother too sexual for her own good, there were many times that I witnessed her seducing other men, in front of my father. Many a night I spent hiding in the attic waiting for their parties to end, and all their demented friends to go away, so that I could sneak back to my room and sleep.
A painful, tortured childhood of endless abuse made me into a raging, violent offender. By the age of six I was lashing out at my siblings, once even breaking my two year old brothers back. The household went through eight nannies in less than a month, as I saw fit to torment and irritate each one. By this time my siblings had learned to avoid me, even the family dog would not come to me. My parents fought with me, each time I would strike out viciously at them. They fought with the state who wanted to lock me up in a mad house, and in the end I was locked in my room most of the time.
Still, a locked door was nothing for me. I would climb out the window at night, a flashlight in hand, and go to the family cemetery to play in the crypts. There was solace and comfort in the crypt of my late Aunt Sammantha, who spoke to me of good and warm things. I could lie back on her stone slab and know that even if I fell asleep that she would watch over me. My playmates were dead bodies and the night, and even as I entered into my eighth year, I continued to sneak to the cemetery.
It was on one of these night that my embrace came. Sammantha was telling me a sweet story, when a ragged dressed man stepped in to the crypt. I looked at him, seeing him for what he was and smiled.
"You're a vampire," I stated, hopping down from the crypt. "And you have come to bite me."
It was more than a bite, more than him sucking my blood, it was the love that I always longed for in life... and now it was my death. When my eyes fluttered open he was dancing about the crypt I lie on, singing in a high pitched voice how I was dead and now a vampire. When he finished he dance he froze in front of me, his red eyes glowing an eery crimson. Pulling the stone slab aside he showed me the decaying body of my aunt, shoved me in on top of it, and shoved the slab back into place. My screams went unheard, my terror unnoticed, my pain once again ignored.
As I lay there, through what seemed an eternity, I began to feel my little body changing. My heart beat ceased, my breathing was no longer required, my body ached as it discharged all the things it needed to live. I was dead, totaly and completely, and I was buried undead. Still able to move about, and unable to hear Sammantha, I turned my little body so that I could life up on the slab, but a small voice echoed in my head, "The sun is full my little monster, sleep and he will come in the evening." So I laid back with my aunt's body, rolling in the decay and mess, then slept.
For the next 25 years the crazed vampire was with me. I learned to hunt, to use my small size to capture the attention of innocent and unsuspecting adults. I learned to use the special skills of my clan, to disappear form the site of mortals and reappear when I wanted. I began to enjoy being a vampire, a monster as my aunt called me, a creature of the night. Each time I drank of a mortals blood I would try to kill them, and each time my sire would stop me. He insisted that death was not necessary and was dangerous, drained bodies raised to much curiosity in mortal authorities.
After the first 25 years, he left me. I woke on evening and he was gone, no note, no message, nothing. I was trapped in 1969, in a city I did not know, alone. For the first few years alone I wandered from city to city, trying to find a safe place that I could call my own. It was also during this time Sammantha returned to me.
So moving into the present I was not alone, Sammantha was there. Her information and knowledge was shared, and I began to understand what this world had to offer me now. I wandered into Portland with the intention of making it my home, but I never knew that to enter a city I had to introduce
myself to anyone. So when I entered Portland and found myself a safe place, I was snagged form the streets and thrown into a celler, with others.
March 2000
History: Daimethius was born in 971 in the foothills of the southern Irish mountains, Daimethius grew up in the original Druidic fashion of his ancestors. When he was 11 he was out playing in the mountains against his parents wishes and got lost. When he finally made it back home he arrived to a scene of carnage. His parents were just burnt husks tied to poles in the ground, and his siblings' bodies scattered around them. Apparently the Church had found out about this family of "devil worshippers" and preformed their God's will on them. Daimethius, struck dumb with horror, made his way to the nearest town to find something to eat. While in town he came across a small church and went inside. Even from an early age he knew he was no match for the Crucified God's soldiers, and the best way to get back at them was to join them. He joined the Church as an alter-boy at the age of age 13.He waited, learned to read and write. Learned all the ways of the Church. He was taught to fight, and he began to serve as one of the the church's protectors. His station moved to France when he was 21, and this is where he finally started plotting his revenge. The priest that condemned his family was now serving at this same church, and when D was 23, he brutally murdered the priest and all of the other men of the Church stationed there. He then burnt the whole building to the ground, and made his escape.
For a full year he ran, the Church having figured out what had happened hunting him across the country. One night when it looked like he could run no more, the Church's Knights closing in, he was saved. In a flash of white and a spray of red, it was over. He awoke to a burning in his mouth and stomach, all the soldiers dead around him and a strange wild looking man arguing with a priest, they started to fight, growing fangs and claws, the very shadows themselves seeming to wrap around the priest, doing his bidding. D promptly passed out again.
Daimethius was embraced by a Lasombra for his cunning, deadliness, intelligence and his amazing patience (for a mortal) in taking his revenge. The large barbarian was a Gangrel. Convinced that D was Irish, born into the ancient ways, living on the land, he should be Gangrel. They battled, the Gangrel coming out the victor. He raised Daimethius as a Gangrel for a hundred years, but D could never get used to the feral lifestyle and seemed distracted. His "sire" seeing how uncomfortable D was created a "brother" for him, Sullivan Howell (qv). They became fast friends, but still the clan structure didn't work for him, and he declared himself clanless and left avoiding most other Kindred. One hundred and fifty or so years later he is approached by a man in white robes. He told Daimethius about an organization known as the Manus Nigrum, and that he had been requested to join. He did, and by doing so he found access to the Guarded Rubrics. In there he learned of his true clan and rejoined as a member, all the while being only truly loyal to his sect. (When the Black Hand fell he became Independant)
Eventually came the Anarch Revolt, and the sea of Kindred politics was thrown into turmoil. During this time the Lasombra founder was destroyed; Daimethius, disgusted with the atrocity preformed against the elder of his clan declared himself Antitribu and has separated himself from the world of man. Until now.
The History of Orion Paul Shetler is a short but rather amazing one. First being sired by a malkavian, Orion progressed in the ranks of Malkavian society. He first learned that everything he knew was wrong, and proceded to start anew. This time in the world Vampire. He took it upon himself to learn Thaumaturgy, and found one happy to teach him a reduced set of thaumaturgical rules, unknowning that it would be of any use to him. Once learning the basis for this watered down Thaumaturgy, Orion was able to make his own path. He named the path 'the gift of Malkav' this path is basically Dementation, even though Orion had no idea what Dementation was (whitewolf had not yet come out with such a discipline) using this discipline, Orion was able to create a nice little patch of chaos through his little corner of the world. One night Orion was feeling a trifle prankish, and decided to propose a challenge to the local law enforcement agency. He borrowed a bigfoot truck, and started driving over cop cars, and anything else that got in his way. Eventually he was stopped. He was able to make a diversion by getting on his megaphone, and throwing his voice, stating "throw down your weapons, this is the Portland Militia" While the police did not believe this bizarre twist of fate, their thought patterns were changed when a seargent's head exploded from an unknown direction. regardless, The Police opened the back of the truck and were greated with a freshly lit roman candle shooting in their faces. Meanwhile Orion, now obfuscated crawled under the truck, and opened a sewage grate and proceded to walk away, leaving the police to believe that the driver had gone down the hole. This is just an example of the pranks pulled of by Orion while still in Malkavian form. Orion quickly however realized that once again, everything he knew was wrong. With the help of a local Garou, Orion was turned mortal again, and then sired by a low generation Tremere, and so once again Orion looks forward to see what trouble he can cause.
