Iain Grendel


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Nature: Survivor

Demeanor: Conformist

Concept: Household Knight

Ghouled: 1204 AD, Constantinople (born 1179 AD, Northumbria)

Attributes

Physical Strength 4, Dexterity 4, Stamina 4

Social: Charisma 3, Manipulation 3, Appearance 3

Mental: Perception 4, Intelligence 2, Wits 5

Abilities

Talents: Alertness 3, Athletics 3, Awareness 1, Brawl 3, Empathy 1, Leadership 2, Streetwise 3, Subterfuge 2

Skills: Animal Ken (Horses) 2, Crafts (Mechanic) 2, Drive 2, Etiquette (High Society) 2, Fireams 3, Larceny 3, Melee (Sword) 5, Stealth 3, Survival (Arctic) 2

Knowledges: Computer 2, Finance 3, Investigation 2, Medicine (First Aid) 2, Occult 2, Politics (Camarilla) 2

Backgrounds: Allies 3, Benevolent Domitor (Marc de Brabant), Contacts 5, Resources 3

Merits: Common Sense, Open Road

Virtues: Conscience 3, Self-Control 3, Courage 5

Morality: Humanity 6

Willpower: 8

Disciplines: Animalism 1, Auspex 1, Celerity 1, Fortitude 1, Potence 1, Protean 1

Ironically enough, I was supposed to be the son without any prospects. I was bitterly jealous of my eldest brother when I was a child. He was to inherit the family manor, and I, the fourth-born son, was to receive nothing. It's strange to think that if I'd been the heir, as I longed to be, I would have died in the twelfth century in the family's damp, drafty, windswept little stone keep in Northumbria. Instead, I've lived for eight and a half centuries, and I've seen and done more in that time than I could possibly have imagined when I was growing up.

I've got some Anglo-Saxon in my on my mother's side; supposedly we descend from one of the noble houses that ruled Northumbria in the eighth century. On my father's side, I'm pure Norman; my great-grandfather came north with William the Bastard during the Harrying of the North, and the old bastard had carved out a nice little patrimony for himself by the time the bloodletting was over.

So there I was, the fourth son of a minor noble family, without prospects or wealth. And so I did what every other landless younger son of the nobility did in the middle ages; I tried to make my fortune on the tourney circuit.

I did pretty well, but not well enough to give me a chance of snagging a wealthy heiress. So when I heard about a new Crusade at a tournament in Ecry in 1199, I decided to try my luck. Others had secured lands and wealth for themselves in Outremer; with luck, I might join them.

If you know the history of the Fourth Crusade - and if you don't, Wikipedia is your friend - you know what eventually happened. We never reached the Holy Land. Instead, we sacked Constantinople, the Queen of Cities, the New Rome.

What you won't find in Wikipedia - because there's an entire vampire sect dedicated to making sure you don't - is that the sacking of Constantinople resulted in the Final Death of Michael the Patriarch, one of the most powerful vampire Princes of the era, and sparked of a centuries-long Cainite conflict known as the War of Princes.

At the time, though, all I cared about was that the city was open to plunder. Finally, the fortune that I'd signed up to gain was within my reach.

I'd say that greed made me careless, but to be honest, it probably had more to do with armful of treasure that I was trying to carry. The end result was the same; an outraged inhabitant of the city put a sword through my gut and left me lying in the street, bleeding my life out. And that was when Megan of Bristol stepped out of the darkness and offered me a quid pro quo; become her strong right arm and manager of her daytime affairs, in exchange for wealth, security, and life, then and forever.