Post by Zeke on Mar 14, 2009 22:38:04 GMT -6
- Name - Ezekiel Black (simply goes by Zeke)
- Age - 24 (Actually 64)
- Gender - Male
- Weight -220 lbs
- Height -6’1
- Eye Color -Black (unique trait, only a fraction lighter than his irises.)
- Hair Color - Short cropped black hair
- Body Type - Athletic, conditioned.
- Tattoos - None.
- Piercings - None.
- Appearance - Zeke typically attires himself like a goth punk or a modern day greaser. He typically wears jeans that are either torn as a style or are very dark colored, in some cases both. He will usually wear either white or black shirts, t-shirts, muscle shirts, and wife beaters. He also usually wears combat boots as a rule, and sometimes accompanies this look with black nail polish, eye liner, and chains either in his jeans belt, around his neck, or on his wrist. He however always completes whatever look he may be using with a long, flowing, shiny black leather trench coat. At a first glance he would look like typical throwback to the punk styles that reigned in the 90s, the kind of person you would see walking on the street and cross it to avoid walking directly passed them for fear of drawing their attention and getting mugged. Either that or you’d probably buy tickets to a metal concert expecting to see him serving as a front man or wailing away on a guitar of some kind. Either that or throwing back further Sid Vicious come back to life.
- Personality - Zeke's personality is very dark and somewhat unbalanced. At his core, he's very hurt and jilted about how life was for him prior to his embrace, and as a result uses his newfound abilities and power to take vengeance on those who had wronged him in life. But it just didn't stop there.
Because Zeke enjoys pain. He loves to create it, and more so he thrived on watch its effect on his victim and not just physical pain, but emotional pain, which he has found to be far more effective. His sense of humor developed as he would set scenes for his victims, elaborate mockeries and wrappings of "gifts" for his victims, like dead wives on beds of roses, and children murdered but made to look as though they were merely asleep. And Zeke really enjoys mocking above anything else, God.
To Zeke, God never did anything for him, and now He and the rest of the sheep that follow His doctrines would pay the dearest price. In a nutshell you could say that people's pain was Zeke's pleasure. Since becoming a vampire Zeke’s found and taken pleasure in the hunt. He loves the thrill of it, the feeling of power that comes with being a predator in the wilds stalking those unable to do anything to defend themselves against his now awesome power. Essentially he views his entire existence now as a game, a game that he is the master of and he recently has developed a want for an adversary worthy to take him at his own game.
- History - Ezekiel Black was a 24 year old kid in 1969. In what he has come to dub as 'my personal Summer of 69', something happened that drastically altered the young boys life. By and large Ezekiel was a failure, born into a destitute family that really didn't give a damn whether or not he lived, died, or just vanished into obscurity. He dropped out of school, and took to doing his own thing, leaving home when he was just 17 years old.
It was when he turned 19 that Ezekiel, now going by Zeke on the street, met a friend. His friend, Cain Leclerc, was from similar roots it seemed, and the two bonded and fought together, surviving New York City's mean, post Prohibition streets where the drug trade was becoming more and more prominent. Together the two even did the odd drug run for a local gang, or participated in the gang 'shake downs' of establishments for protection money, but by and large the two stayed unaffiliated with the gangs instead opting to be perpetual freelancers.
However as often happened in those times, the bosses of the various gangs got upset with the boys they hired for certain jobs one week hindering them and selling them out the next, so a hit was organized for both the young men and sent out, them being sent for what they thought was a sweet payoff for a small heroin drop off at a shut down nightclub. They were ambushed, and Cain was shot dead right before Zeke's eyes, as he scrambled to get out of there, and by a small miracle, managed to get out alive because an opposing gang had been scoping the club as their new territory, and exchanged fire with the hit men, allowing Zeke to get out and get underground.
Zeke lived in obscurity for a long time, barely surviving beneath New York's bustling streets, and when he finally emerged, he managed to land a stable non crime related job at a restaurant in Hell's Kitchen as a cook, where he worked his shift hours and lived in a shelter, helping out when he could, and squandering his meagre paycheques on clubs, booze and good times. But then something happened, something amazing. A party, a celebration, a festival, a cap out to end all cap outs. It would be, simply put, the defining time of that era. Zeke was foaming at the mouth when he first heard about Woodstock, and did whatever he had to do. He worked extra shifts, he picked up odd jobs, he begged, he borrowed, and he stole, but he finally managed to get the one thing he knew he had to have, a ticket to Woodstock.
Hitchhiking out to the town of Bethel on the night of August 14, 1969 Zeke knew he had arrived when they had to exit the vehicle and walk for 3 miles to get to the farm where the concert was being held. Never before in his life had Zeke seen such a mass of people, and as the sun went down on that day, and moved on to August 15...the ranks swelled impossibly more. And then the event began, shortly after 5pm on the 15th, with the sun setting on the horizon, with Richie Havens "High Flyin' Bird". As the evening and day progressed, Zeke lost himself in a myriad of alcohol, drugs, and the sounds of Bert Sommer. The day seemed to pass in a blur, as all around him Zeke felt the communion with his brothers and sisters, the strong stance against the atrocities going on in Vietnam, and the general sense of acceptance and love. The days slowly seemed to melt together into one perfect, perpetual euphoric trance, as he rocked day and night to the likes of Santana, Grateful Dead, and finally The Who. It was indeed a legendary event, every bit what Zeke had hoped it would be, and more. However prior to the end of the show Zeke was lured into the fields of the Bethel farm by an enticing young blond with the deepest blue eyes Zeke had ever seen. Drawn by her promises of that which in his drug addled state and his state of being a man caused him to crave Zeke followed her willingly away and as it seemed away from the eyes and ears of the concerts denizens Zeke would know the comforts of the flesh what was actually in store for him was agony. This woman bit Zeke and as her venom flooded his body and she smiled down on him mocking his weakness Zeke began a journey from mortality to immortal. He just didn’t know it at the time and as he fought the growing agony within him the pain overwhelmed his senses and sent him presumably to death. However something inside Zeke had refused to die, as hours after it was all over, Zeke awoke in the deserted fields. Zeke shook his head trying to clear the numerable cobwebs still left over from the last 72 hours, and was confused to find that in the bright sunlight he was shedding crystals or glitter or something of the kind. Touching them on his body he found them to be crystalline but didn’t know what to make of it. He then made his way back to New York City hitching with some still stoned people from the concert that just figured the crystals he had all over him was them tripping still.
Once back, Zeke was hungry. And the hungrier he got, he tried at satiate his appetite with food, only to hack it up later. And finally, in a back alley, he took hold of a homeless man, and without thinking sank his teeth (which he was suprised to see were fangs) into the man's neck and drained him, leaving the man dead. It was after this event that Zeke realized what he was, and tried to rationalize it, but it all made sense, sunlight affecting him the way it did, the fangs, the newfound strength, power...he was a vampire. The next couple of years marked discoveries for the young Zeke, as he learned little tricks of trade about his new existence. That crosses, bibles, and other holy symbols meant pretty much nothing. And that quite easily, he could pass in the evenings as a regular human being, and while having a big trump card like for instance, bullets, knives, and things of that ilk could no longer kill him, he felt it better to not make a big high profile deal about it.
Non the less, Zeke took to the core nature of the vampire with a zealous glee, he was by and large a killer. But he didn't like just killing people with his bare hands, and he had a penchant for doing in bar fights. He liked instead to devise elaborate ways for his victims to die, he would stalk them, learn about them, torment them, hurt them anyway he could without it being fatal, and then when his victims lost it all, and had nothing left to give, and the amusement ran out, Zeke would grant their ultimate Death Wish. Taking the money from his victims Zeke fled New York and wandered the country, killing here and killing there. It was when he took an interest in a young ballet dancer that his game began to shift and change when the girl’s father hired some down on his luck security guy to protect her. From the shadows Zeke could see the blooming romance and formed perhaps the most sadistic plan of his existence, he would target the girl, put the pressure on and give them enough close calls that the romance would explode. And then right on the cusp of happiness for them both, Zeke would take it all away and in the final act of cruelty leave the security guy, whom he learned over time his name was Edward, alive with the shattered pieces of his life. However remarkably Edward began to attack him and track him as he moved and Zeke knew ultimately that he’d won. Edward’s will was broken and all he could do now was futilely throw himself at Zeke time and again hoping that Zeke would one day just end his misery as he didn’t have the nerve to do it himself. However Zeke is determined to let Edward live in is misery so he’s come to Forks to take refuge in a known haven of other supernatural’s and that Edward’s antics looking for him will create more hurdles for the pest to overcome.
- Likes/Dislikes -
Likes: hunting, manipulation, suffering, and rock music.
Dislikes: losing, being outwitted, and really hates the Church and anything to do with it be it Nuns, Priests, and especially God.
- Fears - Being bested at his game.
- Strengths - A keen hunter, strong willed, charismatic.
- Weaknesses - Can underestimate people, is unable to form meaningful relationships with others.
- Secrets -
- Favourite Colour -
- Code - Meyer
- Example Post -
Utter Darkness.
It was almost ironic, given the occupant of the cramped, pitch black crate's name. How long had he been in this insufferable box? He knew it had been a long voyage. He was starving. Even now, the urge to leave the box, hunt down the nearest sailor and drain him dry, and then kill the rest of the crew in a bloody shower of violence was almost overwhelming. But the young Brujah stayed his rage driven impulse.
He had only been out sparingly, when he was sure there were no crew in the hold. It was always easy to tell. Their thundering hearts pounded in his head, steady and rhythmic, taunting him but he remained hidden. And so the days, or was it weeks? Perhaps months? Passed with the steady darkness, and the gentle rocking of the great ship he had stowed away upon, making it's way through the world's vast oceans. He had stolen out from time to time, when the coast was clear. Stretched his lanky limbs and hunted down the various rodents that infested the cargo liner Lorenza. He had remembered his early teachings, not by the bitch sire he never knew, but by the various Kindred he had met in his travels. He remembered the words of the one Gangrel like it was seconds ago, instead of years...
"Travelin as a vampire is tricky kid. Planes give ya no real protection against sunlight, unless you’re in real good with the Cammies, or sometimes Sabbat have jets. Naw, if you’re a independent vamp like we are, you go by sea. Takes longer, and it's far from fuckin first class, but it gets the job done. Usually night arrival too. But on a ship, and this is important, never touch the crew. You take too many of em, they start looking around, then you wake up at the bottom of the ocean, and that's IF you’re lucky. Not the best cuisine in the world my friend, but if you go by sea, you keep that ship clean of rats, cuz there are always rats on ships, especially cargo."
After what seemed like an eternity of rats, and rocking...the cargo container occupant's ears perked, he had awoken from an uneasy sleep not long ago, it was strange, his rests felt like they were becoming shorter for awhile. But when he heard the bell of the ship ring, he could almost have cried out for joy. The son of a bitch was finally docking. Land mother fucking ho, finally!
He waited until he felt the rumble of the ships engines die down, and replaced with dark silence, the boat rocking on choppy sea water. He could try and make an exit now, but he also knew how dock workers usually did things. One poor sap would offload the cargo while the others chatted with the sailors about the voyage, until their Forman came and kicked their ass back to work. Too bad for the sap who was unloading this crate, because the Kindred contained within was rather hungry, and still quite pissed about the events that had landed him in a box on a boat headed for...well, who knew where really? He only even knew the damn Lorenza's name because of overheard conversations.
The familiar sound of a fork lift moved up and he felt his little home rattle as it picked it up, and drove it away. He braced himself for the downward tilt as the little machine drove down the ramp of the ship, heading for some warehouse store of the port he'd landed at. He felt himself be set down on the floor, and heard the fork lift tool off for another box. He heard the heart beat and footsteps of the one poor bastard left to process the paper work while his comrades chatted...
"Bloody slack asses!"
What's this? An accent? The container pod's occupant thought a moment, English. Yeah definitely. Well, showtime...
The poor dock worker had no chance. The Kindred burst out of the container with a small burst of Celerity and spirited the poor and terrified man behind a stack of crates before he had time to register the container had changed at all! The Kindred snarled, fangs bared, cold eyes boring into the man's own terrified optics.
"You! Flock of seagulls, where the hell am I?!" the Kindred spat menacingly.
It took the poor dockworker a moment to find his voice through stuttering...
"You...yo...your in the Port of Tilbury."
"Tilbury? Where the Hell is that?!"
"In...uh....i...in England. Thurrock!"
The Kindred paused a moment, that was a might of news. All the way from Los Angeles to England. No wonder that voyage felt far too long, he was on the other side of the planet. Non the less, he had fled LA to hide from the Anarchs and collar Cammy freaks, not a bad place to be to do that, other side of the planet that.
"Where is the closest major center?!"
"L...London! It's London!"
"How do I get there, and be snappy about it or I'll tear your throat out!"
"East Tilbury! Not far at all, maybe five minutes by car! Take mine! It has trains that are running every two hours, it'll take you to Fenchurch Street in London! Please, don't kill me!"
The Kindred listened to the directions to the East Tilbury station and smiled venomously.
"Thanks for your help mate. Appreciate it. Know how I said I wouldn't kill ya?"
The pale dock worker nodded vigorously.
"I lied."
With that the Kindred plunged his fangs into the worker's neck and drained him dry, letting him drop to the ground. He didn't even bother to conceal the throat wound, who the hell cares! Let it announce his arrival to the new world!
Sauntering out of the warehouse to the parking lot, the Kindred pauses and hits the gizmo on the keys the now deceased dock worker gave him. The lights on one of the automobiles flashes as its alarm disarms. Clad in combat boots, torn jeans, a white wife beater and a beaten up leather jacket, the dark haired Kindred known as Zeke Black smiled, a trace of blood still on his lips.
"London, here I come."
Explanation of special ability: Zeke’s personality is one that is very strong willed, to that end when his powers manifested as a vampire he found his ability was to push his will onto others. Now what this means is, if Zeke has direct eye contact with a single person he can transmit his mental will to these people verbally allowing him to alter their perceptions and minimally control their actions. Basically Zeke can, in a one on one encounter where he has eye contact with you, affect a person’s perception of the situation and events. For example if you were holding a baseball bat, and Zeke locked eyes with you and used his ability he could tell you that the bat was a rattlesnake and while the bat would remain a bat in reality to anyone watching or on film, in the mind of the person Zeke is talking to it would very realistically look and feel like a snake. This power however is limited as it can only be used on one person at a time and it still requires a great deal of focus for Zeke to make it work so if he’s distracted by sound or action the power won’t work. It can also be overcome by extremely strong willed people but it’s extremely rare that people have the kind of will power necessary to outright defeat it. In terms of the minimal control of actions this power affords him, he can only force people to stand still, frozen, but that’s the extent of control he has over actions. However as this is a mental ability he can play all sorts of mind games with it and also can use it to have people see things that aren’t there.
- Age - 24 (Actually 64)
- Gender - Male
- Weight -220 lbs
- Height -6’1
- Eye Color -Black (unique trait, only a fraction lighter than his irises.)
- Hair Color - Short cropped black hair
- Body Type - Athletic, conditioned.
- Tattoos - None.
- Piercings - None.
- Appearance - Zeke typically attires himself like a goth punk or a modern day greaser. He typically wears jeans that are either torn as a style or are very dark colored, in some cases both. He will usually wear either white or black shirts, t-shirts, muscle shirts, and wife beaters. He also usually wears combat boots as a rule, and sometimes accompanies this look with black nail polish, eye liner, and chains either in his jeans belt, around his neck, or on his wrist. He however always completes whatever look he may be using with a long, flowing, shiny black leather trench coat. At a first glance he would look like typical throwback to the punk styles that reigned in the 90s, the kind of person you would see walking on the street and cross it to avoid walking directly passed them for fear of drawing their attention and getting mugged. Either that or you’d probably buy tickets to a metal concert expecting to see him serving as a front man or wailing away on a guitar of some kind. Either that or throwing back further Sid Vicious come back to life.
- Personality - Zeke's personality is very dark and somewhat unbalanced. At his core, he's very hurt and jilted about how life was for him prior to his embrace, and as a result uses his newfound abilities and power to take vengeance on those who had wronged him in life. But it just didn't stop there.
Because Zeke enjoys pain. He loves to create it, and more so he thrived on watch its effect on his victim and not just physical pain, but emotional pain, which he has found to be far more effective. His sense of humor developed as he would set scenes for his victims, elaborate mockeries and wrappings of "gifts" for his victims, like dead wives on beds of roses, and children murdered but made to look as though they were merely asleep. And Zeke really enjoys mocking above anything else, God.
To Zeke, God never did anything for him, and now He and the rest of the sheep that follow His doctrines would pay the dearest price. In a nutshell you could say that people's pain was Zeke's pleasure. Since becoming a vampire Zeke’s found and taken pleasure in the hunt. He loves the thrill of it, the feeling of power that comes with being a predator in the wilds stalking those unable to do anything to defend themselves against his now awesome power. Essentially he views his entire existence now as a game, a game that he is the master of and he recently has developed a want for an adversary worthy to take him at his own game.
- History - Ezekiel Black was a 24 year old kid in 1969. In what he has come to dub as 'my personal Summer of 69', something happened that drastically altered the young boys life. By and large Ezekiel was a failure, born into a destitute family that really didn't give a damn whether or not he lived, died, or just vanished into obscurity. He dropped out of school, and took to doing his own thing, leaving home when he was just 17 years old.
It was when he turned 19 that Ezekiel, now going by Zeke on the street, met a friend. His friend, Cain Leclerc, was from similar roots it seemed, and the two bonded and fought together, surviving New York City's mean, post Prohibition streets where the drug trade was becoming more and more prominent. Together the two even did the odd drug run for a local gang, or participated in the gang 'shake downs' of establishments for protection money, but by and large the two stayed unaffiliated with the gangs instead opting to be perpetual freelancers.
However as often happened in those times, the bosses of the various gangs got upset with the boys they hired for certain jobs one week hindering them and selling them out the next, so a hit was organized for both the young men and sent out, them being sent for what they thought was a sweet payoff for a small heroin drop off at a shut down nightclub. They were ambushed, and Cain was shot dead right before Zeke's eyes, as he scrambled to get out of there, and by a small miracle, managed to get out alive because an opposing gang had been scoping the club as their new territory, and exchanged fire with the hit men, allowing Zeke to get out and get underground.
Zeke lived in obscurity for a long time, barely surviving beneath New York's bustling streets, and when he finally emerged, he managed to land a stable non crime related job at a restaurant in Hell's Kitchen as a cook, where he worked his shift hours and lived in a shelter, helping out when he could, and squandering his meagre paycheques on clubs, booze and good times. But then something happened, something amazing. A party, a celebration, a festival, a cap out to end all cap outs. It would be, simply put, the defining time of that era. Zeke was foaming at the mouth when he first heard about Woodstock, and did whatever he had to do. He worked extra shifts, he picked up odd jobs, he begged, he borrowed, and he stole, but he finally managed to get the one thing he knew he had to have, a ticket to Woodstock.
Hitchhiking out to the town of Bethel on the night of August 14, 1969 Zeke knew he had arrived when they had to exit the vehicle and walk for 3 miles to get to the farm where the concert was being held. Never before in his life had Zeke seen such a mass of people, and as the sun went down on that day, and moved on to August 15...the ranks swelled impossibly more. And then the event began, shortly after 5pm on the 15th, with the sun setting on the horizon, with Richie Havens "High Flyin' Bird". As the evening and day progressed, Zeke lost himself in a myriad of alcohol, drugs, and the sounds of Bert Sommer. The day seemed to pass in a blur, as all around him Zeke felt the communion with his brothers and sisters, the strong stance against the atrocities going on in Vietnam, and the general sense of acceptance and love. The days slowly seemed to melt together into one perfect, perpetual euphoric trance, as he rocked day and night to the likes of Santana, Grateful Dead, and finally The Who. It was indeed a legendary event, every bit what Zeke had hoped it would be, and more. However prior to the end of the show Zeke was lured into the fields of the Bethel farm by an enticing young blond with the deepest blue eyes Zeke had ever seen. Drawn by her promises of that which in his drug addled state and his state of being a man caused him to crave Zeke followed her willingly away and as it seemed away from the eyes and ears of the concerts denizens Zeke would know the comforts of the flesh what was actually in store for him was agony. This woman bit Zeke and as her venom flooded his body and she smiled down on him mocking his weakness Zeke began a journey from mortality to immortal. He just didn’t know it at the time and as he fought the growing agony within him the pain overwhelmed his senses and sent him presumably to death. However something inside Zeke had refused to die, as hours after it was all over, Zeke awoke in the deserted fields. Zeke shook his head trying to clear the numerable cobwebs still left over from the last 72 hours, and was confused to find that in the bright sunlight he was shedding crystals or glitter or something of the kind. Touching them on his body he found them to be crystalline but didn’t know what to make of it. He then made his way back to New York City hitching with some still stoned people from the concert that just figured the crystals he had all over him was them tripping still.
Once back, Zeke was hungry. And the hungrier he got, he tried at satiate his appetite with food, only to hack it up later. And finally, in a back alley, he took hold of a homeless man, and without thinking sank his teeth (which he was suprised to see were fangs) into the man's neck and drained him, leaving the man dead. It was after this event that Zeke realized what he was, and tried to rationalize it, but it all made sense, sunlight affecting him the way it did, the fangs, the newfound strength, power...he was a vampire. The next couple of years marked discoveries for the young Zeke, as he learned little tricks of trade about his new existence. That crosses, bibles, and other holy symbols meant pretty much nothing. And that quite easily, he could pass in the evenings as a regular human being, and while having a big trump card like for instance, bullets, knives, and things of that ilk could no longer kill him, he felt it better to not make a big high profile deal about it.
Non the less, Zeke took to the core nature of the vampire with a zealous glee, he was by and large a killer. But he didn't like just killing people with his bare hands, and he had a penchant for doing in bar fights. He liked instead to devise elaborate ways for his victims to die, he would stalk them, learn about them, torment them, hurt them anyway he could without it being fatal, and then when his victims lost it all, and had nothing left to give, and the amusement ran out, Zeke would grant their ultimate Death Wish. Taking the money from his victims Zeke fled New York and wandered the country, killing here and killing there. It was when he took an interest in a young ballet dancer that his game began to shift and change when the girl’s father hired some down on his luck security guy to protect her. From the shadows Zeke could see the blooming romance and formed perhaps the most sadistic plan of his existence, he would target the girl, put the pressure on and give them enough close calls that the romance would explode. And then right on the cusp of happiness for them both, Zeke would take it all away and in the final act of cruelty leave the security guy, whom he learned over time his name was Edward, alive with the shattered pieces of his life. However remarkably Edward began to attack him and track him as he moved and Zeke knew ultimately that he’d won. Edward’s will was broken and all he could do now was futilely throw himself at Zeke time and again hoping that Zeke would one day just end his misery as he didn’t have the nerve to do it himself. However Zeke is determined to let Edward live in is misery so he’s come to Forks to take refuge in a known haven of other supernatural’s and that Edward’s antics looking for him will create more hurdles for the pest to overcome.
- Likes/Dislikes -
Likes: hunting, manipulation, suffering, and rock music.
Dislikes: losing, being outwitted, and really hates the Church and anything to do with it be it Nuns, Priests, and especially God.
- Fears - Being bested at his game.
- Strengths - A keen hunter, strong willed, charismatic.
- Weaknesses - Can underestimate people, is unable to form meaningful relationships with others.
- Secrets -
- Favourite Colour -
- Code - Meyer
- Example Post -
Utter Darkness.
It was almost ironic, given the occupant of the cramped, pitch black crate's name. How long had he been in this insufferable box? He knew it had been a long voyage. He was starving. Even now, the urge to leave the box, hunt down the nearest sailor and drain him dry, and then kill the rest of the crew in a bloody shower of violence was almost overwhelming. But the young Brujah stayed his rage driven impulse.
He had only been out sparingly, when he was sure there were no crew in the hold. It was always easy to tell. Their thundering hearts pounded in his head, steady and rhythmic, taunting him but he remained hidden. And so the days, or was it weeks? Perhaps months? Passed with the steady darkness, and the gentle rocking of the great ship he had stowed away upon, making it's way through the world's vast oceans. He had stolen out from time to time, when the coast was clear. Stretched his lanky limbs and hunted down the various rodents that infested the cargo liner Lorenza. He had remembered his early teachings, not by the bitch sire he never knew, but by the various Kindred he had met in his travels. He remembered the words of the one Gangrel like it was seconds ago, instead of years...
"Travelin as a vampire is tricky kid. Planes give ya no real protection against sunlight, unless you’re in real good with the Cammies, or sometimes Sabbat have jets. Naw, if you’re a independent vamp like we are, you go by sea. Takes longer, and it's far from fuckin first class, but it gets the job done. Usually night arrival too. But on a ship, and this is important, never touch the crew. You take too many of em, they start looking around, then you wake up at the bottom of the ocean, and that's IF you’re lucky. Not the best cuisine in the world my friend, but if you go by sea, you keep that ship clean of rats, cuz there are always rats on ships, especially cargo."
After what seemed like an eternity of rats, and rocking...the cargo container occupant's ears perked, he had awoken from an uneasy sleep not long ago, it was strange, his rests felt like they were becoming shorter for awhile. But when he heard the bell of the ship ring, he could almost have cried out for joy. The son of a bitch was finally docking. Land mother fucking ho, finally!
He waited until he felt the rumble of the ships engines die down, and replaced with dark silence, the boat rocking on choppy sea water. He could try and make an exit now, but he also knew how dock workers usually did things. One poor sap would offload the cargo while the others chatted with the sailors about the voyage, until their Forman came and kicked their ass back to work. Too bad for the sap who was unloading this crate, because the Kindred contained within was rather hungry, and still quite pissed about the events that had landed him in a box on a boat headed for...well, who knew where really? He only even knew the damn Lorenza's name because of overheard conversations.
The familiar sound of a fork lift moved up and he felt his little home rattle as it picked it up, and drove it away. He braced himself for the downward tilt as the little machine drove down the ramp of the ship, heading for some warehouse store of the port he'd landed at. He felt himself be set down on the floor, and heard the fork lift tool off for another box. He heard the heart beat and footsteps of the one poor bastard left to process the paper work while his comrades chatted...
"Bloody slack asses!"
What's this? An accent? The container pod's occupant thought a moment, English. Yeah definitely. Well, showtime...
The poor dock worker had no chance. The Kindred burst out of the container with a small burst of Celerity and spirited the poor and terrified man behind a stack of crates before he had time to register the container had changed at all! The Kindred snarled, fangs bared, cold eyes boring into the man's own terrified optics.
"You! Flock of seagulls, where the hell am I?!" the Kindred spat menacingly.
It took the poor dockworker a moment to find his voice through stuttering...
"You...yo...your in the Port of Tilbury."
"Tilbury? Where the Hell is that?!"
"In...uh....i...in England. Thurrock!"
The Kindred paused a moment, that was a might of news. All the way from Los Angeles to England. No wonder that voyage felt far too long, he was on the other side of the planet. Non the less, he had fled LA to hide from the Anarchs and collar Cammy freaks, not a bad place to be to do that, other side of the planet that.
"Where is the closest major center?!"
"L...London! It's London!"
"How do I get there, and be snappy about it or I'll tear your throat out!"
"East Tilbury! Not far at all, maybe five minutes by car! Take mine! It has trains that are running every two hours, it'll take you to Fenchurch Street in London! Please, don't kill me!"
The Kindred listened to the directions to the East Tilbury station and smiled venomously.
"Thanks for your help mate. Appreciate it. Know how I said I wouldn't kill ya?"
The pale dock worker nodded vigorously.
"I lied."
With that the Kindred plunged his fangs into the worker's neck and drained him dry, letting him drop to the ground. He didn't even bother to conceal the throat wound, who the hell cares! Let it announce his arrival to the new world!
Sauntering out of the warehouse to the parking lot, the Kindred pauses and hits the gizmo on the keys the now deceased dock worker gave him. The lights on one of the automobiles flashes as its alarm disarms. Clad in combat boots, torn jeans, a white wife beater and a beaten up leather jacket, the dark haired Kindred known as Zeke Black smiled, a trace of blood still on his lips.
"London, here I come."
Explanation of special ability: Zeke’s personality is one that is very strong willed, to that end when his powers manifested as a vampire he found his ability was to push his will onto others. Now what this means is, if Zeke has direct eye contact with a single person he can transmit his mental will to these people verbally allowing him to alter their perceptions and minimally control their actions. Basically Zeke can, in a one on one encounter where he has eye contact with you, affect a person’s perception of the situation and events. For example if you were holding a baseball bat, and Zeke locked eyes with you and used his ability he could tell you that the bat was a rattlesnake and while the bat would remain a bat in reality to anyone watching or on film, in the mind of the person Zeke is talking to it would very realistically look and feel like a snake. This power however is limited as it can only be used on one person at a time and it still requires a great deal of focus for Zeke to make it work so if he’s distracted by sound or action the power won’t work. It can also be overcome by extremely strong willed people but it’s extremely rare that people have the kind of will power necessary to outright defeat it. In terms of the minimal control of actions this power affords him, he can only force people to stand still, frozen, but that’s the extent of control he has over actions. However as this is a mental ability he can play all sorts of mind games with it and also can use it to have people see things that aren’t there.
