Michelle Regalado
Basic Info
Gangrel Neonate
Age when killed: 25
Time spent undead: 12 years
Haven: Roaming the
Everglades most of the time, seeking shelter where she may find it. When in the city, she resides in her sire's haven, an opulent 19th century mansion in the rich part of town.
Clan Aptitudes, Advantages, & Weaknesses
+1 outdoors
Hunter’s Instinct (Gangrel are natural predators; by spending a Blood Level, the Gangrel may automatically gain the initiative next turn, even against foes with Celerity. Alternatively, the Gangrel may apply his instinct to hunting; by spending a Blood Level, he will automatically succeed in a hunt, unless there is absolutely no prey to be found in the vicinity.)
Bloodlust (Gangrel are tainted by the Beast Within. Over time, many Gangrel develop animal features, such as catlike eyes, fur, or batlike snouts and ears. In any event, Gangrel often find it difficult to spare wounded or beaten foes; to do so, the Gangrel must make a Psychic roll (difficulty 4).)
Traits
Physical:3
Psychic:4
Mental:3
Social:2
Disciplines
Basic Animalism
Basic Protean
Description
Gangrel by name, Gangrel by blood. When Michelle was created in the hot summer of 1994, she had surprisingly little trouble adapting to her new condition. She no longer roamed the parks and woods by day as she always had, but instead discovered the eerie beauty of the night. Her sire presented her to the Prince as tradition required, but the city could not satisfy her anymore. The nightlife and the social duels at Elysium held no interest for her whatsoever.
So she decided to leave the city with a small band of friends, and make a cross-country trek for the great Canadian wilds. During the year and a half that she actually spent on the journey, avoiding the civilized areas as much as she could, she learned much. However, when they reached Atlanta, they were attacked while sleeping, and dragged before the local Prince. It seemed one of her companions, a strange Nosferatu who had been cast out of the Miami society, had a blood price on his head there, and they were deemed his accomplices. Being allowed to put up a feeble defence most definitely saved Michelle’s life, as she named her sire, who was immediately contacted and interfered to save her. The rest of her companions, however, were less fortunate, and were bled dry in the most gruesome exsanguination rituals.
So it was that Michelle forcibly returned to Miami, although she does not do much more than present herself before the Prince once a year, and serve him when called upon. The rest of her time she spends roaming the Everglades. She has recently learned to channel her Protean powers in such a way as to meld entirely into the earth, and while it is a handy protection from the sun’s scorching rays, she finds it to be much more, and often spends days in this torpid state, being one with the earth, and rising from it like a newly-born predator, fresh from the safe, warm, brown womb.
Outward, Michelle is unremarkable, though not entirely unattractive. The half-blood with amber eyes and jet black hair could almost manage to hunt on looks alone, were it not for her overly aggressive eyes, and while not socially stupid, she’s not the most handy in conversations either. Her sire is quite fond of her, and sees her as what he never was: true to the Gangrel soul of the hunter. But, despite this, he has already had to exert several large favours for her release, and Michelle knows this, so she makes sure not to put too much strain on their relationship these days.
Stereotypes
- Brujah - Don't ever try and confuse me with one of these thickheaded rebels-without-a-cause. I'm sure the occasional exception exists, but mostly they are just barking dogs waiting for the Ventrue to call them.
- Malkavian - Watch your back when around one of these Kindred, then watch your front, 'cause that's where they'll be. Nevertheless, they too refuse the shackles of the Camarilla, and for that, I respect them.
- Nosferatu - How they are able to tolerate the city, I'll never know - but they've developed their own brand of hunter's instinct.
- Toreador - I'm sure we both share a love for beauty. The Toreador in that pretty painting she's looking at, or that rare statue, and me in the leaves falling from the pawpaw tree, or the heron's nightly call. The problem with the Toreador is that they have made these trinkets into the reason of their existence. As a wise woman once told me: 'Believe in the ideal, not the idol'.
- Tremere - I've seen a few of these. Don't get fooled by the glasses and cocky demeanor. They're scary, and not to be messed with.
- Ventrue - The Camarilla is supposed to rest on the shoulders of these self-entitled blue bloods. What I don't get is how a Clan that spends it's entire existence doing nothing but playing power-games can see itself fit to lead what are essentially predators.