Calin Martinek
Ravnos antitribu
Brother of the Shield of Skulls
Description
~Handsomely boyish in appearance, Calin Martinek has some sort of Old World charm to add to his “frat boy” demeanor. Perhaps it’s the dark hair styled short, the high brow, the aquiline nose, or the European mode of dress. His clothes are often monochromatic, but often command a bit of flair with the shirt collar, cuffs on the sleeves, or a Spanish floral design on the lapels. It’s certainly not the accent, which would place Calin to have been born and raised in or near Chicago. But part of his charm surely derives from the mischievous, starry-eyed sparkle in his deep-brown eyes. This is a fellow that knows how to have fun, and his relaxed composure invites you to play along.~
OOC: Appearance 3
"You ever consider how the femoral would taste with a little garlic and rosemary?"
History
Youth
A common trend among the Ravnos antitribu was to Embrace anyone they damn well pleased, gorgios or not. Calin Martinek was an exception. He was born into the Ravnos Romani family in 1977 around Chicago’s suburbs. His ma and pa ran a restaurant advertising the best Slavic cuisine this side of the Great Lakes. As soon as he could manage the bussing, he was an unpaid laborer in his parents’ restaurant.
He mingled only with other Romani kids, of course. The Martineks wanted to keep their son as pure to the blood as possible. They always nailed that home: before country, before friends, before television, even before God came the blood of Rom. Calin bought it; it was all he was ever really spoon-fed. Home-schooled before home schooling was popular with gorgios, Calin learned the basics of academia and that was it.
And that was because his folks intended to bring him, their only child, up as the inheritor of their “famous” restaurant, Pachiv Hobben. Indeed, as he grew up, he learned all of his parents’ famous recipes. Calin quickly acquainted himself with a kitchen space, and could have surely starred on Iron Chef if fate had not intervened first in his budding superstar career.
The Ravnos
In his early 20s, Calin was effectively running the daily operation of his family eatery. His parents were semi-retired, only working the books and occasional service. In the kitchen, Calin was boss. He didn’t have the time or interest to fool around with other young Romani men his age. He didn’t want to join some new kumpania and roam the countryside. He was more than happy to work and cook.
Apparently, his family’s mythical benefactors, of whom he had only heard fairytales, frowned on his attitude. One night in ‘99 after the restaurant was closed, Calin was alone in the restaurant and enjoying a few screwdrivers. A fellow Gypsy helped himself inside and claimed to be Ravnos – “real” Ravnos. He even proved it with what Calin could only describe as magic (but would later learn was illusions formed with Chimerstry).
Calin listened to this Ravnos explain that he was a vampire and had decided to pass on the Embrace to Calin so the young man never forgot his heritage. Calin didn’t like the sound of that and meant to disagree. But then the Pachiv Hobben got more visitors – more vampires. Most of them didn’t look to be Romani or Ravnos. Calin could tell by his new “friend’s” look that these fellas’ arrival didn’t bode well.
A brief and pathetic fray began, and Calin’s shouts for the brawlers to mind his restaurant went ignored. The antagonists who were also vampires laughed cruelly as they toyed with the outnumbered Ravnos. Calin watched in horror as his new acquaintance was staked through the heart…and decapitated on the spot. Man. Blood all over the bar counter.
Burial Rites
But then Calin knew he was next. He tried to run, but they grabbed him and pinned him down. One of them called for the torment to stop. A pretty face hovered in view. She planted a kiss on his lips, and one look into her eyes told Calin she was Romani, too. “Welcome to the night, prala.” She said. And then the whole pack of ‘em tore into his body, biting and ripping and drinking. He was drained of every drop of blood. Then the pretty girl put her arm to Calin’s mouth. As he lay on the brink of oblivion, her bittersweet blood brought him back to consciousness. He drank, knowing from common stories what this would do. He didn’t care – he didn’t want to die!
Die Calin did, nonetheless. And rise again, screams muffled as he clawed and crawled tooth and nail out of a mound of grave dirt. Lying on that pile of earth, he peered up at the black night sky and felt the terrifying emptiness threaten to embrace him. He countered it on the inside with a feeling, a yearning, to experience everything in life he denied himself. Amber Liviny, his sire, told him he was still Ravnos, but now he was Sabbat, too.
So began Calin’s training. He was taught how to hunt for blood, how to kill and scoff at the consequences of the mortal coil. Calin knew his old life was gone. He could never see his parents or familia again so tainted. Besides, this pack of Amber’s, the Roadside Butchers, were nomads – always on the move. So he accepted Amber’s instruction, even when it encouraged him to let go to the Beast, to do monstrous things like bite clean through the throat of one of his first hunting victims – a middle-aged woman (probably a school teacher) on her way home from work. The Path of Cathari was the new amoral rules to which he adhered.
200-Proof
While Calin proved a willing candidate of the Sabbat, he was not proven until 2003. The pack rode around, scoping out Camarilla holdings of the Midwest, and causing random bits of trouble – mostly a truck stops. It wasn’t until they decided to bum rush a Brujah Rave outside of Bismarck that things got ugly. Though incredibly outnumbered, the Roadside Butchers did have the advantage of surprise. They took advantage of that surprise by hitting the hard-partying Anarchs with Molotov cocktails and lots of ‘em.
The poor, dumb bastards that ran out of there had to deal with the Panders and Gangrel antitribu of the pack – big tough guys. Calin had to stand his ground with ‘em, even though he was no fighter. He did his best, but a fire-crazed Brujah biker chick bull rushed him over. Lucky for Calin, he wasn’t disarmed. So when she plowed on by, he was able to roll onto his belly and shoot her in the backs of the legs. She fell down and he whaled on her with an aluminum bat until he could put a stake in her broken body and call it quits. Phew!
Now Calin was True Sabbat and made his sire proud. He was more than a pretty face and fuck-toy after all. Calin was given rights to pursue whatever sort of career as a vampire he wanted at that point, provided he stayed loyal to pack and sect, of course. That suited him just fine. He began to specialize in “herding” for the pack – finding them easy prey and bringing them dinner and even cleaning up after their messy habits.
Then the young Ravnos also began to dabble around with blood. Calin experimented often on the palatability of various herbs and oils and their effects on vitae. Some worked and some didn’t, but it would only be with time and effort that he would turn his mortal life career into an immortal one.
Mad Maxin’
Unfortunately, the Roadside Butchers’ nights were numbered. They were cruising through Wichita in 2008 when another nomadic gang rode up on their asses. Now some of the Butchers were so-called Pale Riders – vampire bikers. Others, like Calin, cruised with more style. But this other gang was all bikers. They outnumbered the Butchers…and attacked without warning. Calin and Amber and everyone piled out to fight right there on the highway. Calin heard the assailants chant their names during the bravado of battle – the Young Bloods was their gang’s faggoty title, whatever.
The battle was vicious. The Young Bloods weren’t vampires but they had strange bodily powers that made Calin assume they were fighting Tzimisce or the like. In the end, the Roadside Butchers won – what was left of them. It was just Calin and a Pander named Nims. Amber was dead – her throat torn out and her head batted twenty yards off by a pair of disgusting tentacles that Calin shredded with a MP-5…too late to save his sire.
Nims suggested the two of them get the hell out of Dodge. Calin didn’t think a joke about which part of Kansas they were actually in was appropriate. They headed back east and landed in Kansas City’s small but potent diocese. Since the Roadside Butchers were no more, the Archbishop deemed to let Nims and Calin’s Vinculum break over time. They would be assigned to new packs.
In fact, only Nims stayed in Kansas City. Calin was sent not far off to the city of Centropolis, Missouri, to the small Sabbat diocese there. He joined his new coven without argument. Though he kind of missed his old pack, and especially the hotness of Amber, he was ready to settle down in one place. He wasn’t like other Ravnos. He just wanted to cook…even if his specialty now was primarily blood. Eat that, Iron Chef!
Pack (Shield of Skulls)
Calin is only rank-and-file in the pack, the Shield of Skulls. This pack specializes in management of the diocese's various resources, and its ruling membership offers it a measure of prestige above the other packs. Acting as pack leader is Chief Sidney Barnes. Mistress Lanesse Fil was selected as priestess. One of the other members is Suzette Exauria, also "rank-and-file", along with Vincent Tyrel. Together they all oversee the sharing of communal havens, handle the sect's limited influence in mortal society, and keep an eye on the diocese's growing territory. Ignoblis ritae include rites like the "Beastmatch", "Brother's Keeper", "Offspring", "Nod to Noddism", "Offspring", "True Sabbat's Memory", and of course Vaulderie.
Weakness
Tainted Blood
Calin doesn’t try to pretend he’s some righteous, pureblooded Romani spirit. He knows he’s marhime – unclean. He knows it and accepts it and even revels in it. He’s an offense to all good Romani people and a blot on the Ravnos Family. It’s lucky for him they think he’s dead. Or do they? He does risk a strange curse he has yet to uncover after all…
Likelihood of Corruption
High.
He’s a twisted, savage, and sadistic Sabbat vampire. While he’s not about to turn to the Path of Evil Revelations, he’s diabolical enough.
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