Bio

I rolled onto the cold, hard cement. I knew running my mouth to the tough guy at the bar would result in me laying face down in the street. It didn’t matter, it’ll end up just like it does every other night. Been going to a lot of bars and clubs lately looking to cause trouble, yet
for some reason this place seems to have the best crop of punks around. Can’t even really remember the name of the place to be honest. The Chalice, or something? Again, it didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was my “friend” from the bar standing over me. He was a tall guy, had to be at least 6 foot something. Big too, definitely someone who hits the gym. Never seen him around mine though, then again, haven’t really seen anybody around seeing as it’s been closed for years. It’s alright, I like the privacy. I do all my best training alone. I take pride in the art of pugilism, it’s a craft I hold in the highest regards. Not like this guy though, the fuckin’ amateur. It’s all about chest puffing and showing off.

“Get the fuck up! You want to run your mouth in the club your gonna get what’s comin’ to ya, asshole! I got you right where I want you!”

Wrong. Dead fucking wrong. Those things I said inside, my clumsy pushing and shoving, it was all part of the game I play. I have YOU right where I want you. I’ve had you beat since the moment I saw you at the bar with your “homies” thinking you we’re the toughest guy in the room.
And don’t worry, I’ve got a couple of tricks up my sleeve if your friends want to join in, but right now it’s just you and me. And I’ve got you right where I want you. I get up in a slow fashion, trying to sell any kind of injury he may have given me when he tossed me from the bar to the street. I see the look of confidence as he thinks he’s got this one in the bag, and I try not to laugh as knew how wrong he is. He reels back his arm and cocks his fist, looking for a knockout blow. Such bad form, throwing such a slow, sloppy punch like that. I shake off the act of being weak and easily defeated and let the real fight begin. I grab his fist, just before he would have made contact, and twist breaking several bones in an instant. A look of both shock and pain wash over his face as he hears the sound of his own crumpling hand. I smile to myself knowing that this fight is already over, that it’ll end up just like it does every other night.

• How old are you?
• What was unique about your childhood?
• What kind of person were you?
• How did the Embrace change you?
• Who was your sire, and how did she/he treat you?
• Were you presented to Kindred society?
• How did you meet the others in your coterie?
• Where is your haven?
• Do you retain any connections to your mortal life?
• What are your habitual feeding grounds?
• What motivates you?