Thomas
| Full Name: | Thomas Schiff |
| Ritename: | Manic-Panic! |
| A.K.A.: | Dwight |
| Race: | Corax |
| Faction: | Wyrm |
| Camp: | Buzzards |
| Breed: | Homid |
| Rank: | Ales (3) |
| Pack: | Novis Noctis Exortu |
| Age: | 34 |
| Height: | 5'11" |
| Weight: | A lady never tells! |
| Eye Colour: | Brown |
| Hair Colour: | Black |
| Demeanor: | Deviant |
| Urge Wyrm: | Sykora |
| Dexterity: |   |
| Appearance: | |
| Perception: | |
| Crafts: | |
| Demolitions: | |
| Firearms: | |
| Drive: | |
| Alertness: | |
| Rage: | |
| Gnosis: | |
| Cunning: | |
| Infamy: | |
| Power: | |
| Important Merits | |
|---|---|
| Crack Driver | |
| Accute Vision | |
| Important Flaws | |
| Phobia | Scarecrows |
| Addiction | Cigarettes |
| Mental Patient | Escaped from a high-security mental hospital. |
| And Another Thing... | |
Press-ganged before I could talk. But the company's nice.
I -hate them-! Bunch of jackbooted fucks! Everything's as bad as it is because of their New World Order. Go ahead and laugh at the paranoid schizo raving about the Illuminati, but I know what happened to me!
Hey, if Helios hates you more than he does me, that makes you all right in my book! And that Kiss of yours...I, uh, I really miss that.
How do the other changers stand it? Having a bunch of alien things in another dimension watching you, all the time, 24/7. Keeping you in line by deducting merit points when they don't like what you do. Having promotion or punishment depend on their constant surveillance.
Did I say things were bad because of the NWO? No, it's these people. If Little Brother's too stupid to know he's bigger than Big Brother, he deserves everything that happens to him!- Gifts: Looking for a gift from one of the Gaian Garou tribes? He has access to all Rank 1 and 2 gifts, and is willing to teach. Camp/house/lodge gifts aren't available, but nearly everything else is game. Just bring him some Gnosis. Lots of it.
- Bombs: When life gave him oil spills, he decided to make molotovs! He might not be the best candidate for demolition man/firebug, but needs must. And the napalm he whips up is pretty damned nasty.
- Cars: He's an occasional getaway guy, when his gang can't just magic their way out of a situation. Also works as a courier, delivering packages when he can function enough to show up to work.
- Scars: Has a bullet wound in his leg, faint scars on his wrist, and one side of his face has been cut into a crooked half a Glasgow grin.
- Clothes: Mad about clothes. After being forced to dress blandly as a kid, and then forced to wearing an orange uniform every day in the asylum, he really likes playing dress up. Designs clothes, too, though he doesn't always follow through with sewing them. Will also steal clothes from people he likes, and corpses he may or may not have liked.
- Carrion Crows: A Buzzard. Like a Skindancer, he was previously just a kinfolk whose birthright was stolen from another shifter via ritual. Unlike a Skindancer, the ritual was performed on him when he was just a baby, and he had no say in the matter.
Fell -- Klaus' brother. A headshrinker. I still got a migraine from that orbitoclast you stabbed into my eye socket.
Hamish -- Another damned headshrinker. My psychiatrist. Would probably get along with Fell, but I don't want to think about that much. And no, I do -not- want to see your fucking mask! But, uh, I do wanna be your number one guy...We've got a lot of history, and I work for him now.
Carver -- A weirdo I used to live with. Part teen Mansonite, part Stepford wife. He's working for the Technocracy, but no one will believe me about it.
Russ -- Gods, those eyes of his! Beautiful.
Lincoln -- A vampire, but this one can't hold his drink, and fox frenzied after just a sip. Must've had a 9-5 at one point, because he's a tattoo artist without any visible tattoos.
