Name: Paul Gabriel Miles
Nature/Demeanor: Caregiver/Celebrant
Clan: Malkavian
Generation: 12th
Age when Embraced: 24
Current age: 87
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 154 pounds.
Hair: Black with blue highlights.
Eyes: Brown.
Attributes: 3/5/7
Physical
Strength: 2
Dexterity: 2
Stamina: 2
Social
Charisma: 3
Manipulation: 3
Appearance: 2
Mental
Perception: 4 (attentive) (spent 5 freebie points to raise by 1)
Intelligence: 3
Wits: 4 (snappy patter)
Abilities: 13/5/9
Talents
Alertness: 2
Brawl: 2
Dodge: 2
Empathy: 2
Expression: 3
Subterfuge: 3 (spent 2 freebie points to raise by 1)
Skills
Etiquette: 3
Stealth: 2
Knowledge
Finance: 2
Medicine: 2
Occult: 2
Politics: 4 (Camarilla) (spent 2 freebie points to raise by 1)
Advantages:
Disciplines
Auspex: 2
Demention: 1
Backgrounds
Generation: 1
Herd: 3 (spent 1 freebie point to raise by 1)
Status: 2
Virtues
Conscience: 4
Self-control: 3
Courage: 3
Humanity: 7
Willpower: 7 (spent 4 freebie points to raise by 4)
Blood Pool: 11 - 12th Generation
Merits & Flaws (1 freebie point gained total)
Acute Sense: Hearing (+1)
Light Sleeper (+2)
Oracular Ability (+3)
Nightmares (-1)
Phobia: Lizards (-2)
Prey Exclusion: British, French, American or Russian soldiers (-1)
Repelled by Crosses (-3)
Experience Earned: 0
Equipment:
Cell phone
PDA
Background:
I was born on 15th of July, 1916. Born in Essex, England, a fortunately untroubled part of Europe at the time. My father was a country vicar in the grand old tradition, leaving most of the Church's duties to his . My childhood was largely untroubled, my time spent at school, out exploring the rather tamed countryside surrounding our village, or with my father as he attempted to teach me some of the history of Christianity.
To be honest, little changed until I turned 17. Then I escaped my happy home for the bustle of Cambridge. To my father's disappointment, I chose not to study theology, instead turning to politics. It seemed I'd found my calling, and graduated with a 1st four years later. Of course, that would also be glossing over a lot of the wild times that I had during those years...
A 1st from Cambridge made finding a job rather easy. I offered a secretarial position my our local Liberal MP, and I gladly accepted. The post paid fairly well, allowing me to continue the lifestyle I'd enjoyed at my father's expense while at Cambridge, and further sharpened my understanding of Westminster's ever-changing rivalries and alliances.
Unfortunately, the good times didn't last. Oddly, the coming of World War II took me by surprise. I suppose I'd spent too much time studying the little power-plays within my own party to notice the danger we were facing from Germany. And as a result of this surprise, I did something very stupid. I joined up...
I enjoyed military life at first. My position and contacts ensured I got an officer's commission, thus avoiding the more rigorous and unpleasant aspects of training, and I finally had some real power. Or so I thought. You don't really give much regard to rank and power when you're being strafed by enemy fighter aircraft.
I think it took me all of two weeks on the front line to go mad. A lot of my kin say it's in the blood, but I think they're wrong. We'd all got some hint of insanity to mark us out to our sires. The Malkavian blood just shows our true nature.
Another fortnight later, and I was getting a medal for bravery. God only knows why, because I can remember a damn thing about what I did. I've been told I dragged my commanding officer and three of his lackeys out of a burning car, gunning down Germans as I went. I doubt it. It just doesn't sound like me. I'm a bad shot, and would've happily left the old buzzard to roast. Of course, I didn't say any of that. Nod, smile, shake hands, look proud.
And get shot walking through a farmyard. Must have been a year after my little amnesiac heroics. We'd gone to check out a nighttime disturbance, and ran right into the machine gun who's set up had caused the disturbance. Of the six of us, three died on the spot, literally ripped apart. One of those moments you can always remember, and I turned from loving God to hating the bastard. No-one should let people get killed like tha... Ow! I caught a bullet in the arm, and blanked out...
To wake surrounded by bodies and with blood in my mouth.
"Its not yours, you know." Someone said quietly behind me. Swallowing, I turned to see an American Captain sitting beside the now silent machine gun.
"What's not mine?" I asked in confusion, wincing as I moved my wounded arm.
"The blood. Its mine. And his. And his. And I think his as well." The American pointed at the German dead lying around me. I fainted.
His name was Mathew Shelley, and he wasn't in the Army. Just wanted a uniform to make people do what he said. I could understand. Related to the poet he said. I smiled tolerantly. Oh, and he was a vampire. I laughed. He looked hurt. I apologised, and he explained what had happened, how I had changed, and what I could do. Starting with how to heal my arm. After that, I didn't need any more convincing.
War is a good time for vampires. Plenty of dead or dyeing just scattered around the place, and no-one notices a few more bodies should a hunt get too enthusiastic. A very good time to be undead. And we could even call ourselves patriotic, as we never fed from our own side.
A good time, but a troubling one none the less. Matt guided me through the how and why of being Kindred, but I couldn't lose my ties to life so easily. With the Germans, I was killing those I'd have been killing anyway. Wasn't it better for them to go with the comfort of the Kiss, rather than the agony a bullet or bayonet. It's what I told myself late every night before I settled down for the dreams of the day.
Then it ended. The War blew itself out as the Allies broke the Axis. Parties filled the streets, and there was hunting of a more pleasant kind for two handsome officers. Now I think back, peace is always more fun than war...
Six years! It had been six years since I'd seen my family. And I was dead. This needed some thought... A week later, me and were standing on Kings Cross platform. Hired a car, drove up to the house. Didn't go in. Couldn't go in. They all looked so happy, why re-open such a well-healed wound? And of course, there was the matter of the Masquerade to consider. So, back down to London. Did I ever mention the money? No? Looting German officers had proved quite profitable. Added to Matt's savings, we'd never need to work again.
London has always been a haven for the Kindred. So many people, and so many willing to try new things. If you're smart, you never needed to hunt. We spent the next three and a half decades in that gem of a city, and we lived the high-life. I started to make a name for myself, and it turned out politics is even more useful amongst immortals. I fitted in, almost. There are days, even one or two weeks at a time I have no memory of. At least two of these happened straight after I'd fed from a certain young lady with a fondness for both my company and LSD, so they trouble me little, but the other times...
Then we had to leave town. Black Wednesday hit us hard, wiping away most of Matt's money, and what remained was back in the States. As of 22nd of October, 1992, NYC became our new home.
To be honest, I didn't like it as much as London. The Kindred here are for the most part much less polite than their European cousins, and this in only magnified in the Kine. But the politics here is even more complex than home. It took me a few years to again prove myself to the Prince, but I became a useful, even valued, member of the society here.
Then war caught up with me again, for both Kindred and Kine. The Sabbat tore into us, and we either met our Final Deaths, or fled to safety. I hated it, but we struggled, fought, and clawed the city back from the foul grip of those scum. Then both we and the Kine suffered in an act unworthy of even the most monstrous of the Sabbat.
Two years later, and things are settling down again. I've learnt a new talent or two. I've even got my own little flock of mortal admirers. But still I'm uneasy. My dreams are getting more troubled, and not by the normal images. And I swear everything I see points towards yet more bad news. It's like a thunderstorm waiting over the horizon. I just hope I'm not in its path when it hits...
