One of the last iterations of that was in a Vampire: the Masquerade game where I played a secret Tzimisce who escaped the Sabbat and joined the Camarilla. He/It didn't work out as well as I'd planned (most of my attempts haven't) since changing identities was just too expensive and I really needed minions. But he/it was fun to play.
Here's how I'd translate some of that character into Requiem terms.
Lacuna
Waking
Always the same.The earth presses down on him, surrounding him, suffocating him.
You don’t breath, it lectures himself.
The dirt is in his eyes, his mouth, his ears. A damp bitter taste fills his world. He claws for the surface. Desperately he struggles. The earth forces the last of the air from his lungs. Oil stained grit grinds into his clothes as he thrashes in pain and fear. He’s dying.
You can’t die, it says tiredly.
He shoves violently, thrusting aside newly turned earth, groping for the surface. Immediacy is lost. Panic and horror grow distant and foreign. As the phantom memories of its first moments of unlife play out, it wonders for the thousandth time why it dreams of being buried. Why not dying behind the club? Why not the first taste of Vitae? Why not the horrors that came after?
The dream fades. Day-sleep recedes. It opens its eyes and sees nothing. Its hands shift the dirt around it. The poisoned earth reassures it, comforts it, eases its long dead nerves.
Its practiced hand finds the latch and cracks the door above it. A dim glow from the streetlights intrudes. The vampire opens the door the rest of the way, careful not to scatter any of the soil. It rises gingerly. Quietly it dusts itself off, making sure not to lose a single grain. Importing Detroit grave earth isn’t cheap, it reminds itself.
It changes out of its day clothes, closing the trap door that hides its hiding spot. The floorboards fit perfectly, concealing the outer latch.
Clean, it makes the rounds, checking the security of the windows and doors in the decaying apartment. On the walls, faded faces peer out of stock photos. It stalks over a second-hand rug the color of day old coffee and cream to the front of the studio. It runs its hands over the chains and bolts. The locks on the front door are secure. Nothing has been slipped under or into the door.
On the way back it passes by a purplish sofa sticking faintly of the dumpster and an unplugged television. A tiny sliver of light escapes the thick drapes and glints on the cracked screen. It peers out the smog stained window at the night clad city.
Time to get ready.
It wanders over to the vanity and looks over yesterday’s haul. Three wallets, five credit cards, a dozen business cards, a pair of driver’s licenses, some cash, five receipts, and a picture of a dog. A poor showing, it thinks to itself.
One of the IDs might be useful. It looks into the mirror. The Rat-King looks back with his bloody eyes.
“You need to do better,” it rasps at the charred reflection. The blackened cheeks of the Rat-King rise in a mock smile, his teeth gleaming against its charcoal flesh.
It sighs as it summons the power of the blood. It would need to feed heavily tonight. The Rat-King would not be putting in another appearance for several nights. It passed its charred hands over its broken skin, leaving behind smooth clean flesh. It rubbed its hands together and up its arms, turning burnt hamburger to pale slender limbs.
Then it moves to the face. Rebuild the nose. Create some hair. It checks the picture. Tweak the color. Perfection isn’t important, it reminds itself. Cops barely look at these, shop owners not at all.
Finally just be sure, it changes clothes and sets up the camera. A quick pic and some time to develop. I’ll splice the picture into the ID later on.
It looks at the driver’s license again: Paige Ellison. Welcome to the show.
Background
He/it doesn't really recall what he/it looked like. Embraced only a decade ago, he/it remains on the run from his/its sire, who he/it refers to as "She of the Picasso Eyes". A pickpocket and identity thief in life, his/its sire took away much of what made him/it human through brutal torture and brainwashing. Obviously it didn't all take and he/it escaped using his/its new talent as a master of disguise to make a new beginning.Description
He/it could be anyone. His/its one tell is the lingering trace of a smoking habit. It manifests in some form in whatever guise he/it takes. Sometimes it is a habit of feeding on smokers, in others he/she/it carries around cigarettes or cigars, and still other identities he/she/it covers his/her/its arms in dermal patches.The Tzimisce
The rare few who belong to this bloodline elder claim it originates from a time before both the Ventrue and Gangrel clans formed. They claim Tzimisce are the progenitors of both clans and are the truest expression of both clans wielding a mixture of Dominate and Protean to command the very flesh of their subjects.Parent Clan: Ventrue. Despite claims of their origins, no Gangrel members are known.
Covenant: Historically the Tzmisce tended to joined the Invictus or remained unaligned altogether. A few explored the mysteries of the blood with the Circle of the Crone. But those Tzimisce created in modern nights find themselves drawn to the Ordo Dracul.
Appearance: With mastery over flesh, Tzmisce tend to visages of utter horror and unnatural beauty, crafting themselves to their personal ideal.
Bloodline Disciplines: Animalism, Dominate, Protean, Resilience
Weakness: Tzimisce suffer the standard Venture bane. In addition their protean flesh requires some form of stability requiring them to rest in the soil of their place of death. If they do not sleep with at least a handful of dirt from their region of death, all their dice pools are capped by their Humanity for the next night.
Bloodline Gift: The Tzimisce seem to be among the few capable of mastering the Devotions of Vicissitude. They require one fewer experience to master each devotion.
Vicissitude
This write-up works off the Translation rules version of Vicissitude.Malleable Visage (Requirements: Protean 2): The vampire can craft their own flesh. This requires expending a Vitae and making an extended Dexterity + Crafts roll (each roll is a minute of work). Becoming unrecognizable requires 1 success, acquiring a specific look (like a red headed woman) might require 5 success and impersonating a specific person requires 10 successes. (Cost: 2 XP)
Fleshcraft Attack (Requirements: Protean 2 and Dominate 1) The vampire can grossly manipulate the flesh of others using a Dexterity + Crafts roll minus the target's Stamina. Using this ability costs a Vitae. Each success deals a Lethal point of damage. (Cost: 2 XP)
Fleshcraft (Requirements: Protean 2 and Dominate 2) The vampire can finely manipulate the flesh of others using an extended Dexterity + Crafts roll resisted by the target's Stamina + Power Stat. Each roll takes 1 minute. Otherwise this functions as Malleable Visage. (Cost: 3 XP)
Bonecraft Attack (Requirements: Protean 2 and Dominate 2) The vampire can manipulate the bones of others even in mid combat. After expending 1 Vitae, roll Dexterity + Medicine - the target's Defense and deals damage with the subject's skeletal structure (a 2 Lethal weapon in this case). (Cost: 3 XP)
Bloodform (Requirements: Protean 5): a variation on Primeval Miasma, the vampire turns into blood. The vampire turns into a volume of blood of her size, capable of slithering at her full speed and squeezing through anything that isn't watertight. She can perceive the world as normal and even manipulate objects as if she possessed Strength 1. She can slumber in blood form with the same benefits as unmarked grave.
She remains mostly immune to harm except from her banes, including fire and sunlight. She can feed by absorbing blood from any open wounds that come in contact with her or by forcing her way into a person and then devouring their resource. This involves a grapple and "bite" using her normal Physical Attributes. If another vampire is foolish enough to try to drink her, they forgo the grapple. (Cost: 2 XP)
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