News
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Update: 03/22/20
- Selfie Time: So a Jock, a Bad Ass Chick and a Drop Out all show up to Court and we're all of the Blood. So the Head Honcho decides to grab a pic of us since we're so rare in his territory. The Jock's a transport from Hawaii and stepped in with a bow and will probably take the test, make the vow and go from there. The Chica ain't all about that but she likes the town. So she gets to take care of the Honcho's pet for permission to stay. Me? I told him that I would not let someone from THAT family test me. Nope. Not gonna happen. The Honcho told me to get tested and be prepared to swear yadda yadda blah blah before the throne and all that. NEWP. I'll just keep my distance for now.
Update: 03/17/20
- Earned His Whiskey: Though he may get on my nerves every night there are some times when the man earns his whiskey. Like tonight when I hit up a bar on the border. Crazy lady decided to lock me inside, tell me to sit down like she owned the place. First, locking someone in somewhere they've never been is never a great way to break the ice. Nomads get a might twitchy when they feel trapped. Second, If you do try and lock us in make sure we don't have a geezer driving a rig that could crash through the front of the bar to make a hole. One way or the other we're getting out.
Update: 03/14/20
- Court: Didn't die - so that's a win. Saw some stuff that confirmed what I had heard about the Camarilla for years. Told the Prince what was going on - that I wasn't planning on settling in his cities but that I would occasionally be passing through them. I was given a probationary pass for a week and then he wants to talk to me again. If he's wanting me to bow and scrape like the others I saw - well that just ain't gonna happen; ain't me.
- Lord of the Dance: One of the weirdest things I saw was after my moment on the stage. A guy had put himself up to take over the Brujah. Brand new guy that was just presenting himself to the Prince...that night. I know right? What Brujah's gonna follow a new guy like that? Well, some woman called him out on it. I was ready to see a good old fashioned Brujah brawl. But what does this guy call as the weapon of choice for their fight? Dance. DANCE. Between Brujah. WTF? I mean seriously, WTF? I'm going to have to get those glitter bombs ready. My sire ain't -never- gonna believe this shit.
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Contacts
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Contacts
(I know you)
Associates
(I like you)
- Joe: He family, but like all cousins - I ain't really seen him much. But if he called, I'd answer.
Friends
(I trust you)
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Hooks
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History- Known to have been hanging around Rawlins, WY about ten years ago.
- Mostly a drifter that runs around with a few people now and again.
- Somehow he managed to find a driver, "Gramps", that keeps en eye on his rig when he's out and can drive him around when he's sleeping.
- The driver is an old, bitter guy; a truck driver for nearly forty years. He's got lung cancer from smoking a pack of day since he could drive and a liver that's about quit on him. Without semi-regular doses of 'the shit' to keep him going he'd have been dead months ago. Every fourth word out of his mouth is a cuss. Now that he's got 'the shit' from 'the kid', he's feelin like a man that's twenty years younger.
Habits
- He's mostly a nomadic creature
- Walks around UCP campus in the evening.
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Haunts
- College Bars
- Road House Bars
- "Gramps" drops Rawslins off wherever it is that he needs to be that night and then finds a spot to park the rig until he gets a call for a pick up. The kid hands over whatever cash he scored that night for gas and stuff and crashes out while he moves them around.
- Campus Library: UC Prospect
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Home
- Typically outside of Prospect though they move around a lot.
- Has a mobile haven that's an old Chevy camper from the mid-80's.
- He's tried to put down roots before - to have a traditional haven but those things are seemingly too easy to find and then they turn into a weakness.
- They never seem to be in the same exact spot two days in a row - just to throw people off the trail.
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Horror
- Being controlled by another. Whether it's the whim of a Prince of the Camarilla or the fanaticism of a High Priest of the Sabbat, when he starts to feel the hands of others trying to put a collar around his neck he is quick to hit the road. Ain't no place worth being a slave.
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Overview
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Name
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Rawlins
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Apparent Age
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Early Twenties
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Occupation:
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Vagrant
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Demeanor:
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Rebel
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Nature:
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Survivor
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Race:
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Vampire
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Hair Color:
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Brown
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Eye Color:
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Blue
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Height:
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5'10"
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Weight:
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190
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Concept:
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Nomadic Vagrant
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