Clan Gangrel | |||||||||||||||||
|
| |||||||||||||||||
| General info on our clan as seen in respect of myself and Lord Ashton. | |||||||||||||||||
|
|
My humble friends, tis my first page so bear with me. I utterly despise this thing called technology. I've got grudges against these little grey boxes so I'll say what I have to say and try to keep it short. My friend Lord Ashton has granted me permission to use his writings at points here to benefit you, the general Gangrel Populace. You will find him to be a wise fellow indeed. | ||||||||||||||||
| The story and life of Mordos | |||||||||||||||||
|
|
I am more simply know as Mordos. I was born circa 1020 A.D. within the future nation of Hungary. Just a wee bit outside of the walls of Constantinople. I was abandoned and picked up by a clan of travelling gypsys of the most interesting stock, my surrogate father was the oddest of the bunch. He spent his daily life sleeping until dusk, which I thought odd. (later finding out it was the way they prefered to be. And later still the fact they were a pair of Gangrel vampires who were husband and wife in life.) And they raised me as their own as I became the almost perfect model for a gypsy youth, stealing and conniving and being rather swift of foot. We were a close family, I grew accustomed to thriving in the night. I was a smart lad and I decided to seek my fortune away from the family so I decided to travel back towards the streets of Constantinople where I was told that adventure and intrigue were abound. So I packed up my meager belongings and bid my family farewell. My surrogate parents were suprised but they felt blessed none the less so a rather large celebration was put on in my honor as I was to find my glory and future in the world. Twas a grand feast indeed with all the gypsy trimmings, dancing maidens, food and drinking. Oh my the drinking! What a grand sight. I had lived and could drink with the best in my kumpania. I joined them with much rejoicing I was accepted and went thru many many drinks that night singing myself in a proper drink induced stupor wherein I stumbled to the edge of camp. My father saw me stagger away and he approached me with a wide smile and said, "My boy, you've grown and have become quite strong. I am impressed, with that he brought me into his embrace and I felt him squeeze my rib cage with his great strength that I had grown accustomed to.. Well, with the drink in me, It was to much.. I lost my entire feast all over my fathers chest and beard and promptly passed out. When I next awoke I felt a burning pain, I knew it to be a hangover of mammoth proportions, but something was different about it. I looked about myself and I noticed that all of my possessions had been left at my side and my kumpania was far from sight. I cursed, once more I had been abandoned.I went to check where the fires had been and noticed by my skill from living with the gypsies that I'd been left the night I passed out, which by what I gathered was three days ago. My intense anger was soon replaced by a sudden and unknown hunger that blinded my vision and sent me to a tiny farm house outside of the city walls. It was there I found a sleeping farmer and his wife. I had no clue what to due as my reason left me and I attacked both, tearing at their throats, not knowing what I was seeking. When I saw the blood issue forth from their bodies and placed my lips over the wounds and drank my fill of both of them. When I finished I staggered away from the farm house back into the forrests and as my vision cleared I vomited. I had heard tales of creatures like me that drank the blood of men and women. My father had jokingly told me them in my youth to get me scared to sleep. I pondered my change, my realization striking me so I set about cleaning myself up and walked thru the forrest as dawn broke and went to sleep, out of the reach of any light. I slept a dreamless sleep that night, and many many more, hunting creatures in the forrest with my hands and teeth. stalking them like a predatory wolf. Once I had adjusted I ventured into the city to perform my deed and do what I could to find out about my kumpania and my father. I held no grudge against him, in fact, after the ten years I searched for him, I gained a respect for him and my new found identity. I'd slowly taught myself the protean discipline so I could survive in the soil of the earth. Along with many other things. It was almost 20 years to the day when my father came to me during my slumber and woke me with snarl and a wide grin. "Well my boy. How've you come to enjoy what I've given you?" I snarled back and spat in his face. He chuckled and embraced me, "You are a stubborn dilo my boy. But you'll learn respect." He smiled and we both laughed for I know I was in for many many years of teaching. My father and sire taught me for many many hundreds of years from both a distance and at my side. We did many things together. I fought in the crusades with him in the armies of the turks, feeding merrily upon the blood of crusaders and my turkish allies as well. It was grand times that I lived in friends. A grand time indeed. It was during The Inquisition that I lost my father and sire. I fled but not without suffering permanent scars of the flames I tried to rescue him from with my arms. They are now scorced fully up to my shoulders and concealed by gloves which I wear along with a grey trenchcoat. (I'll explain the attire later.) I chose never to heal those wounds if it had been possible because they remind me of my sire at all times. Such a wise man. He is sorely missed. I spent 30 years running from Hunters and men of the inquisition before I lost them and travelled to Switzerland to hide myself, which had never been my way, and it still isn't. I spent many years as a swiss emmissary and soldier to many countries under the employ of dictators and just rulers. I'll leave those stories for some other time. Now we come to the year 1914 and I am an emmissary and personal consul to Archduke Ferdinand. It was his death by a caitiff who held a grudge against me that started the Great War. Odd isn't it? Well It happens. If you ever ask, I've a pocketwatch engraved with the Duke's name in the cover next to his picture and mine standing side by side. Needless to say, the caitiff was dealt with by the bloody Camarilla and I was never implicated for some odd reason. But I don't trust the bloody ventrue farther than I can throw 'em. It was then that I decided to travel to this interesting New World and take up dwelling in New York City. Which I did, earning pay as an immigrant dock worker, a wage slave, hired goon and bouncer for various local pubs and speakeasys during the Prohibition days. I fought some Lupines in my trek across the Midwest in the late fifties. And I don't think I need to bloody mention my run in's with those hippies. They remind me of the Ravnos. Anyhow. I took up shop in the earlier sixties in down town San Fran as a private eye and small shipping firm owner. (I'd amassed some savings in my swiss accounts during my stay there.) And basically held up shop. I'm still at it. Shipping any of our kind in and out of the country in special crates passing customs. It's a cinch. And well.. I'd like to say is that A lot of Far Eastern fellas are startin to head into chinatown.. an if you'd take my advice.. These guys are tough and they don't take no shit, from nobody. In the P.I. biz, i'm the best in town, and I work well, helping the Prince keep tabs on those walkin the thin line, I've got no official position, cause I hate titles and she knows it.. And well.. I'm perfectly fine, I'm not crossed by no body and I don't ask for much in payment if you catch my drift... And well.. It's 1998 and many kindred say that San Fran is gonna be the basis of somethin' big, and from what my sources say.. I know it ain't far from the truth. Your author, Mordos (or in San Fran I'm simply known as Mordy in the underground, Look me up if ya need to)) | ||||||||||||||||
| |||||||||||||||||
|
This page has been visited
|