Soul Thieves, A Vampire Roleplay [interest thread]

[drmigit2]

Welcome, you are one of the first vampires ever. The breakout has occurred in New York City and nobody knows why. While whoever is in this role play isn't the only vampire on the planet, there are very few and should this race survive, you have the opportunity to amass immense power. Nobody knows of your existence, you were a normal person until today. Despite trying as hard as possible, you just can't shake the feeling that you absolutely crave blood, no you need as much blood as possible and the sun to stay as far away as possible.

You all live within walking distance of one another and while you may know each other, it isn't necessary you do. The year is 1870. Every once in a while we will have a time-skip, but don't worry, you are all practically immortal.

Spoiler: DA RULES

Right, let's get this straight. I don't care what lore you have, what books you want to throw at me, here is the deal with vampries in this roleplay. I want this to be very clear from the get-go.

1. They die if exposed to sunlight for more than a minute.

2. The process of drinking blood always kills the victim no matter what.

3. Anything stabbing their hearts, ripping off their heads or any other instantly fatal blow will kill them, anything else can be healed given a short amount of time.

4. By all practical purposes, they are regular people except they are slightly stronger than an average male.

5. Not drinking blood rapidly ages a vampire, this process is undone through drinking blood.

6. A vampire can make more vampires but he must give up a part of his life essence and thus, can only do it once a year without serious repercussions.

7. Garlic, crosses, holy objects and all that garbage do nothing to vampires. They can cross rivers, don't need to be invited in etc etc.

Spoiler: PVP Combat

While I hope you guys don't end up trying to kill each other, this is a role play and it's bound to happen so...here is how it works. You guys try and write compelling posts and whoever I think should win, will win. If you guys can work out a victor then fine by me, but I will step in if I feel I have to.

Spoiler: Character Sheet

Name:

Age:

Appearance: (You are all going to look pale or sickly under close investigation but aside from that, normal appearance as per before transformation)

Bio: (Who are you? Remember you hold a real job and are a real person by all rights.)

Weapons and other fun things: (THIS ROLEPLAY ISN'T ABOUT COMBAT, but I need to know what you have in case you decide to start killing a lot more people.)

Personality: (Your personality hasn't changed much aside from being a blood addict.)

Other information: (If you want me to know something about your character then please tell me.)

 

[c_westerman13]

Spoiler: James Hart

Name: James 'Red' Hart

Age: 35

Appearance: James is a mid-height male, of pretty average build. He tends to keep his hair about shoulder length, and mostly messy, but well out of his dark blue eyes. His general dress is a pair of worn old black pants, with a hole at the left knee, and a button-up grey shirt, all under a long, scarlet overcoat. The back of his overcoat is emblazoned with a cracked black skull, with an ornate gold dagger sticking out of the cranium - The symbol of the Jets. He generally wears combat boots.

Bio: James grew up in an orphanage in the middle of a bustling metropolis - he had no idea where his real parents were, and he's never much cared to find out. Life in the St. Richard orphanage wasn't easy for any of the children, but James managed to get the short end of the stick - Growing up, he was a small, podgy child, and he was mercilessly bullied for it - though this did slowly cause him to toughen up. Aged 16, he was kicked out of the orphanage for participating in a fight, in which two of his aggressors ended up with broken bones. James lived on the streets for a few years, stealing what food he could, just scraping by, until an guy calling himself Jet approached him one night, offering him a lifetime of wealth and happiness, if he could just cause one man to have an accident.
James, with the fighting experience the orphanage forced on him, decided that this could easily be worth his while. He spent a couple of days tracking his target down, before cornering him in a alleyway, and beating the unknown man to death. This achieved, he went to the dingy little pub where 'Jet' had promised to meet him. Sure enough, Jet was there, and very pleased to hear of James' success. The man invited James to join his gang - the Jets - as a 'removals agent' (read: assassin). James leapt at the opportunity, and recieved his payment for the job - a suitcase containing $1,500 - more money than he'd seen in his life.
For a few weeks, he was frugal with his money, but this soon changed, as he started to get paid more for each successful job. Meanwhile, he got in close with the leaders of the gang, and grew in popularity. He was promoted surprisingly rapidly, which, alongside his increasing spending, afforded him considerable luxury, albeit ill-gotten. Aside from a couple of early kills, James has gotten very good at hiding his trail, even framing rival gang members for a few of the higher-profile kills he made.
Now, years later, James has gone independent, taking contracts from anyone willing to pay his $15000, which is a surprisingly many people, as he has discovered. Recently, James has come to wish for the taste of blood - though how he knows this, he is unsure - he just knows it's getting worse.

Weapons and other fun things: James generally carries a revolver within his jacket, loaded at all times, and a couple of spare clips, his wallet (generally pretty full), and a switchblade.

Personality: For a hired killer, James is extremely sociable and charismatic, generally making friends with most people he doesn't have a contract on. He is also fiercely loyal (albeit only to his paycheck), but he tends not to keep anyone particularly close - his job would put them in too much danger. Whilst he wouldn't say he enjoys killing people, by any means, he does start to miss it when the contracts are few. He does, however, take great pride in clean kills, and evading/duping the authorities.

Other information: Although he doesn't know it (and potentially never will), James' father is actually a Texan sheriff, and his Mother died during childbirth.

Is this any good?

EDIT: noticed the '1870' thing, updated some details.

 

[drmigit2]

Spoiler: James Hart

Name: James 'Black' Hart

Age: 35

Appearance: James is a mid-height male, of pretty average build. He tends to keep his hair about shoulder length, and mostly messy, but well out of his dark blue eyes. His general dress is a pair of worn old black pants, with a hole at the left knee, and a button-up grey shirt, all under a black leather jacket. The back of his jacket is emblazoned with a cracked skull, with an ornate gold dagger sticking out of the cranium - The symbol of the Jets. He generally wears combat boots.

Bio: James grew up in an orphanage in the middle of a bustling metropolis - he had no idea where his real parents were, and he's never much cared to find out. Life in the St. Richard orphanage wasn't easy for any of the children, but James managed to get the short end of the stick - Growing up, he was a small, podgy child, and he was mercilessly bullied for it - though this did slowly cause him to toughen up. Aged 16, he was kicked out of the orphanage for participating in a fight, in which two of his aggressors ended up with broken bones. James lived on the streets for a few years, stealing what food he could, just scraping by, until an guy calling himself Jet approached him one night, offering him a lifetime of wealth and happiness, if he could just cause one man to have an accident.
James, with the fighting experience the orphanage forced on him, decided that this could easily be worth his while. He spent a couple of days tracking his target down, before cornering him in a alleyway, and beating the unknown man to death. This achieved, he went to the dingy little pub where 'Jet' had promised to meet him. Sure enough, Jet was there, and very pleased to hear of James' success. The man invited James to join his gang - the Jets - as a 'removals agent' (read: assassin). James leapt at the opportunity, and recieved his payment for the job - a suitcase containing $1,500 - more money than he'd seen in his life.
For a few weeks, he was frugal with his money, but this soon changed, as he started to get paid more for each successful job. Meanwhile, he got in close with the leaders of the gang, and grew in popularity. He was promoted surprisingly rapidly, which, alongside his increasing spending, afforded him considerable luxury, albeit ill-gotten. Aside from a couple of early kills, James has gotten very good at hiding his trail, even framing rival gang members for a few of the higher-profile kills he made.
Now, years later, James has gone independent, taking contracts from anyone willing to pay his $15000, which is a surprisingly many people, as he has discovered. Recently, James has come to wish for the taste of blood - though how he knows this, he is unsure - he just knows it's getting worse.

Weapons and other fun things: James generally carries a revolver within his jacket, loaded at all times, and a couple of spare magazines, his wallet, and a switchblade.

Personality: For a hired killer, James is extremely sociable and charismatic, generally making friends with most people he doesn't have a contract on. He is also fiercely loyal (albeit only to his paycheck), but he tends not to keep anyone particularly close - his job would put them in too much danger. Whilst he wouldn't say he enjoys killing people, by any means, he does start to miss it when the contracts are few. He does, however, take great pride in clean kills, and evading/duping the authorities.

Other information: Although he doesn't know it (and potentially never will), James' father is actually a Texan sheriff, and his Mother died during childbirth.

Is this any good?

EDIT: noticed the '1870' thing, updated some details.

Works for me. The only thing I have is that there weren't leather jackets in the 1870's. You can replace it with an overcoat and eventually get one in a few decades, but for now the leather jacket has to go.

 

[c_westerman13]

weren't leather jackets in the 1870's.

I thought we managed to make and use leather way before that! Overcoat is fine, though, I'll edit the original. Will change a few other things to make it fit better, but its all cosmetic.

How well-know is the outbreak of vampirism?

 

[drmigit2]

weren't leather jackets in the 1870's.

I thought we managed to make and use leather way before that! Overcoat is fine, though, I'll edit the original. Will change a few other things to make it fit better, but its all cosmetic.

How well-know is the outbreak of vampirism?

Entirely unknown. You are the first real vampires ever. Yes we had leather, but leather jackets were not the in-style yet and you would be looked at very strangely.

 

[drmigit2]

I should also mention that the authorities exist in their normal form, so breaking laws will be met with consequence if you fail to cover up your tracks.

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

This character is a little bit different. Hope it's okay.

Spoiler: Robert Bircher

Name: Robert "Crazy Bob" Bircher

Age: 65

Appearance: Vampirism hasn't affected Bob's appearance much. When he was alive, he was pale, filthy, and emaciated. Now he's paler, filthier, and more emaciated. He smells like rotting meat, feces, and despair, and the only thing that is keeping his mouth from being a festering cesspool of fungus and fear is the daily regimen of alcohol killing some measure of the nightmare residing within. He wears a ratty, threadworn wool cap and a confederate infantryman's coat, although at this point it isn't identifiable as anything other than a foul-smelling, filthy mess of wool fiber. Underneath the coat he wears a pair of canvas pants that are comparatively quite clean and well cared for. They're a little bit too tight on him, which results in a fairly disturbing image.

Bio: Crazy Bob was once a respected member of society, the son of a prominent Boston family and an officer in the American army who served with distinction in the Mexican-American War. However, during the war he was struck in the skull by gunfire, damage to his brain laying the groundwork for developing psychoses, particularly combined with his growing psychological trauma from the horrors of war.

After the war, Robert resigned from the Army and attempted to go into business, however his growing madness causing him to fail again and again, until finally he was left, penniless and alone, abandoned by his wife and forgotten by his family, left on the streets to fend for himself. And in the dark and the cold, the madness consumed him. For years he has scratched a living out of garbage, surviving off discarded food and the occasional rat, scraping together the few pennies he could to pay for the foulest rotgut he could find, the only thing that can take his mind away from the madness and the misery, and the growing certainty of the terrible threats that lurk just beyond the veil, just out of sight.

Because Bob knows the truth. He knows about British Storm Sorcerers calling down their deathstrikes into New York harbor. He knows about the French lizard agents walking through the corridors of American politics. He has seen the Confederate Witch-Doctors reshaping reality around them, and he knows that they know that he knows, and so he flees into his own undeath, a drooling, festering madman soaked in blood and vomit.

Weapons and other fun things: Broken rum bottle, ratty old coat.

Personality: Crazy Bob is batshit loco. He is entirely convinced that his vampirism is the result of a plot by Confederate witches. This is nothing new for Crazy Bob, as he has previously ranted that Spanish insurgents had been inserting special juices into the wine to effect mind control, and that the Mexicans were infiltrating the government to perform an act he described as 'The FTA', a plot to subvert American economics. When he's not ranting about the latest conspiracy, he's up to his eyeballs in only the cheapest of liquor. In the unlikely event that you can manage to get through his drunken insanity, you'll find that Bob is a kind-hearted old man. Shame about the stench, and the crazy, and the blood-sucking.

 

[Redryhno]

Spoiler: Here's a Mc

Name: Conall Reid

Age:22

Appearance: Conall is as Scotch/Irish as they come, bright red that could put the sun to shame in terms of brightness, more freckles than skin, which is almost as white as a corpse already anyways. Because of this, the paleness hasn't done much more than add the slightly sickly pallor to it. His eyes are a bright green, and except for a small almost unnoticeable scar across his chin, he'd be the same as any other Mc out there.

His clothes consist of his one pair of shoes which he spent six months saving up for, and they are the most expensive thing he owns. The rest of it is a pair of restitched pants, a couple shirts, and suspenders.

His other outfit is his duty uniform, consisting of his badge, coat, and pants.

Bio: Conall was born in Ireland, as all good blood-born Irishmen are, he'd tell anyone. Though not a full-blooded Irishman, he still considers himself one, as he's never been to "cold,heartless Scotsland". His mother was a Scotswoman herself and used to tell him stories of the land, and never found any reason to go that way, besides, not like them being driven off their land by the landowners gave them much choice on destinations, America was the place to go, job opportunities and thousands of acres of land just ripe for the taking the stories said. So they packed up what little money they had and were able to buy a couple tickets across the Pond six years ago. The arrived at Ellis and got through the booths, and were promptly denied jobs in just about any field they attempted to get into. All except for the unwanted jobs, namely the somewhat newly founded police force, and other more infamous outfits that ran the streets around their neighborhood.

So, they did a two-fer-one, his father joined the night watch, and he ran with the gangs in secret. Between the two of them, they were able to move into a better neighborhood and Conall stopped, not like he ever got more than just street muscle moving crates around anyways. He joined the Police force as well and has been patrolling the streets for little over four years now, his mother dead of pneumonia, his father beaten to death in a back alley, the event which prompted his joining the police, as his father had always spoken of honoring something, his memory seemed as good a thing as another.

Weapons and other fun things: He just carries a billy club now, it's police issue, and metal bound near the end.

Personality: Conall's generally a nice enough guy, walks the night patrol, and tries not to beat on too many "evil-doers". He's got a generally good sense of humor, and is just an average guy pretty much in every way. The vampirism he's just learning to get his head around it, not many stories of Donald McCormick going blood-happy after a few rounds at the pub, after all.

[sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub]Looks like dumpster diving didn't turn out as glamorous as some people believed.[/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub]

 

[drmigit2]

So the myths and legends have still existed in this universe right? We know what we are as soon as the symptoms pop up?

Yes. The world isn't any different, but just because a legend exists doesn't make it true. Feel free to take advantage of this.

 

[drmigit2]

This character is a little bit different. Hope it's okay.

Spoiler: Robert Bircher

Name: Robert "Crazy Bob" Bircher

Age: 65

Appearance: Vampirism hasn't affected Bob's appearance much. When he was alive, he was pale, filthy, and emaciated. Now he's paler, filthier, and more emaciated. He smells like rotting meat, feces, and despair, and the only thing that is keeping his mouth from being a festering cesspool of fungus and fear is the daily regimen of alcohol killing some measure of the nightmare residing within. He wears a ratty, threadworn wool cap and a confederate infantryman's coat, although at this point it isn't identifiable as anything other than a foul-smelling, filthy mess of wool fiber. Underneath the coat he wears a pair of canvas pants that are comparatively quite clean and well cared for. They're a little bit too tight on him, which results in a fairly disturbing image.

Bio: Crazy Bob was once a respected member of society, the son of a prominent Boston family and an officer in the American army who served with distinction in the Mexican-American War. However, during the war he was struck in the skull by gunfire, damage to his brain laying the groundwork for developing psychoses, particularly combined with his growing psychological trauma from the horrors of war.

After the war, Robert resigned from the Army and attempted to go into business, however his growing madness causing him to fail again and again, until finally he was left, penniless and alone, abandoned by his wife and forgotten by his family, left on the streets to fend for himself. And in the dark and the cold, the madness consumed him. For years he has scratched a living out of garbage, surviving off discarded food and the occasional rat, scraping together the few pennies he could to pay for the foulest rotgut he could find, the only thing that can take his mind away from the madness and the misery, and the growing certainty of the terrible threats that lurk just beyond the veil, just out of sight.

Because Bob knows the truth. He knows about British Storm Sorcerers calling down their deathstrikes into New York harbor. He knows about the French lizard agents walking through the corridors of American politics. He has seen the Confederate Witch-Doctors reshaping reality around them, and he knows that they know that he knows, and so he flees into his own undeath, a drooling, festering madman soaked in blood and vomit.

Weapons and other fun things: Broken rum bottle, ratty old coat.

Personality: Crazy Bob is batshit loco. He is entirely convinced that his vampirism is the result of a plot by Confederate witches. This is nothing new for Crazy Bob, as he has previously ranted that Spanish insurgents had been inserting special juices into the wine to effect mind control, and that the Mexicans were infiltrating the government to perform an act he described as 'The FTA', a plot to subvert American economics. When he's not ranting about the latest conspiracy, he's up to his eyeballs in only the cheapest of liquor. In the unlikely event that you can manage to get through his drunken insanity, you'll find that Bob is a kind-hearted old man. Shame about the stench, and the crazy, and the blood-sucking.

I don't see anything wrong here. Looks interesting but remember, corpses pile up and if you run around screaming your head off while murdering people, it won't be long before the police catch on. There are ways of dealing with them, but in general I intend to make messing with the police an overall bad idea. Still, I like the sheet, it will be very interesting to see how "crazy bob" holds up.

Spoiler: Here's a Mc

Name: Conall Reid

Age:22

Appearance: Conall is as Scotch/Irish as they come, bright red that could put the sun to shame in terms of brightness, more freckles than skin, which is almost as white as a corpse already anyways. Because of this, the paleness hasn't done much more than add the slightly sickly pallor to it. His eyes are a bright green, and except for a small almost unnoticeable scar across his chin, he'd be the same as any other Mc out there.

His clothes consist of his one pair of shoes which he spent six months saving up for, and they are the most expensive thing he owns. The rest of it is a pair of restitched pants, a couple shirts, and suspenders.

His other outfit is his duty uniform, consisting of his badge, coat, and pants.

Bio: Conall was born in Ireland, as all good blood-born Irishmen are, he'd tell anyone. Though not a full-blooded Irishman, he still considers himself one, as he's never been to "cold,heartless Scotsland". His mother was a Scotswoman herself and used to tell him stories of the land, and never found any reason to go that way, besides, not like them being driven off their land by the landowners gave them much choice on destinations, America was the place to go, job opportunities and thousands of acres of land just ripe for the taking the stories said. So they packed up what little money they had and were able to buy a couple tickets across the Pond six years ago. The arrived at Ellis and got through the booths, and were promptly denied jobs in just about any field they attempted to get into. All except for the unwanted jobs, namely the somewhat newly founded police force, and other more infamous outfits that ran the streets around their neighborhood.

So, they did a two-fer-one, his father joined the night watch, and he ran with the gangs in secret. Between the two of them, they were able to move into a better neighborhood and Conall stopped, not like he ever got more than just street muscle moving crates around anyways. He joined the Police force as well and has been patrolling the streets for little over four years now, his mother dead of pneumonia, his father beaten to death in a back alley, the event which prompted his joining the police, as his father had always spoken of honoring something, his memory seemed as good a thing as another.

Weapons and other fun things: He just carries a billy club now, it's police issue, and metal bound near the end.

Personality: Conall's generally a nice enough guy, walks the night patrol, and tries not to beat on too many "evil-doers". He's got a generally good sense of humor, and is just an average guy pretty much in every way. The vampirism he's just learning to get his head around it, not many stories of Donald McCormick going blood-happy after a few rounds at the pub, after all.

[sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub]Looks like dumpster diving didn't turn out as glamorous as some people believed.[/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub]

A vampire police officer. Hmmmm. So this will certainly be interesting, it will also let me run more expository on the police without just yammering on. At some point you will need to disclose the nature of how you are still alive in 1990, but 1990 is far away .

 

[Redryhno]

snip

Oh that's easy, in 1900, he sets a warehouse on fire with a body that has his uniform on, and emerges in a different part of the city as a shopowner, which will then go up in flames around the start of prohibition, and again he'll emerge as a the owner of a speak-easy. of course when the war starts he'll have to go into hiding probably, and then come again as a cop around 1950, for for them for thirty years before being found "dead" again, and that's how he's still alive in 1990!

 

[drmigit2]

snip

Oh that's easy, in 1900, he sets a warehouse on fire with a body that has his uniform on, and emerges in a different part of the city as a shopowner, which will then go up in flames around the start of prohibition, and again he'll emerge as a the owner of a speak-easy. of course when the war starts he'll have to go into hiding probably, and then come again as a cop around 1950, for for them for thirty years before being found "dead" again, and that's how he's still alive in 1990!

Alright xD. I am willing to start with just the three of us honestly. I hate how roleplays in here always end up with 20 people and nobody knows eachother and aahhhhhhh. To me, five is the best.

 

[c_westerman13]

well, i'm up for going with only a few people, it can just stay open, can't it?

 

[drmigit2]

well, i'm up for going with only a few people, it can just stay open, can't it?

I would prefer to have more than 3, but 3 COULD do if this thread remains unnoticed for a few more days.

 

[Glasgow]

I am interested in trying to join, but the premise is kind-of vague right now.

 

[InkBlot Royalist]

This looks interesting, I've always wanted to try a Vampire character! Can I reserve a spot? I'll try and get you a sheet up asap!
Could I just clarify a couple of things?
1) Aside from being slightly stronger/faster than an average person, do the starting vamps actually have any particular powers? I'm guessing transforming into a bat or a wolf is out, but do they have enhanced senses or claws? Or do they develop powers as they go on?
2) Can they increase their youth past the age they actually become Vampires at?
3) How do they get on with fire?

 

[drmigit2]

This looks interesting, I've always wanted to try a Vampire character! Can I reserve a spot? I'll try and get you a sheet up asap!
Could I just clarify a couple of things?
1) Aside from being slightly stronger/faster than an average person, do the starting vamps actually have any particular powers? I'm guessing transforming into a bat or a wolf is out, but do they have enhanced senses or claws? Or do they develop powers as they go on?
2) Can they increase their youth past the age they actually become Vampires at?
3) How do they get on with fire?

1. If you don't consider immortality and the uncanny ability to identify which vein to suck blood from, then no. I mean if you get long finger nails then you could call them claws I suppose. I have to stress this RP isn't mainly about combat and if you go around recklessly attacking people, you won't last long.

2. To make it simple, let's say I am 33 when I become a vamprire, if I don't feed for so long, then I will rapidly begin aging about a year a day. If I feed again, then I am back to 33 no matter where I started. You won't die from the aging process, but it will leave you entirely crippled until you feed again.

3. Vampires burn like anything else. You will rapidly heal the burns but if your brain is destroyed by the fire or your heart then you die.

You guys are going to have two weak points, the brain and the heart. Damage to those CAN HEAL but if you take fatal damage to either, you die. Anything else will hurt, you will feel it but it won't kill you.

 

[Deu Sex]

This seems like it could be fun. Reserve me a spot please.

 

[Redryhno]

snip

I think what Ink was asking was if as the years go forward if we can at some point start consciously changing our apparent age. Because if we all have regular jobs, even if we change from decade to decade, people will notice that, unless we're constantly moving from place to place, at which point I don't know who wouldn't start asking questions about us. Except for crazy-hobo-man, who few people will ever really notice anyways.