Ray Merripen

Clan Gangrel
Arcadian Autarkis

Description


~Ray swaggers onto the scene with a lopsided smirk on his grill. He looks the part of a drifter bum. Old, beat-up gray khakis, a tank top that was once white and now as gray as his slacks, and a pair of cracked Nike sneakers cover his lean shape. He runs a hand through a mane of bleach-white hair, flushing up a punkish stripe of red down the center. His angled features demonstrate the tenacity of a survivor. A pair of lupine bangs hang down over his ears, hiding the pointed, curling tips of his ears. His eyes gleam the yellow-gold of the wolf, sunk into a complexion that seems rather pale for one so obviously athletic and in good shape. Occasionally, Ray straps a webbelt around his waist, usually toting a holstered 9mm, combat knife, and cellular telephone.~

OOC: Appearance 2

"Then come get some, boy."

History


Life

Life was rough for the Merripen's. Dad was a roaring drunk because his construction work job sucked. Mom was Dad's punching bag when he lost control. Ray was always caught in between. It's a sad story of inner city youth that's been heard and seen countless times, and everyone knows the ending. The kid grows up bad, screws up in school and drops out, and becomes a criminal, ending up in prison or the grave. And that's close to how it went with Ray.

Brooklyn was a rough town, after all. You either get tough or get run over. Every night Ray witnessed his mother suffer at his father's hands, something boiled up deep inside -- outrage, helpless outrage. Ray was just a scrawny boy, and Dad was beefy and strong. Ray examined his own feelings, but attested his hatred as what anyone's righteous anger should be. He didn't bother to suppress it. In school, outside school, Ray was violent. He picked fights all the time. The size of the other kid didn't matter, and Ray often lost. But it didn't matter to Ray, he wasn't fighting to win. Ray was constantly getting in trouble with school officials and police then. His parents took notice long enough to consider options on how to handle the preteen, and a new advertisement caught their attention. "Teach your kids self-discipline and control! Watch their grades climb sky-high! Watch them learn to defend themselves without resorting to fights in the schoolyard!" An ad for a new martial arts academy in Brooklyn struck their fancy and they signed the boy right up. Ray, for one, was glad to become a student of karate. Shorei-ryu was the style Ray was taught and he demonstrated a natural affinity for the hard style and Chinese Five Animal elements used in this style.

Unfortunately, Master Jimmy Yue could not successfully channel Ray's anger. And as Ray grew older, his fights became more violent -- and he lost far less often. Indeed, by the age of eighteen Ray was renowned and feared in his 'hood. Ray's personal style was similar to many youths of the age -- punked out. But he struck out as an independent, keeping few friends and many more enemies. He monkey-stomped people with or without weapons, with or without friends, and was compared to a rabid dog when it came to his brawls. Rumor even had it someone pulled a .38 Special on him one day and the gunman ended up with the weapon crammed up his prostate. But that was probably exaggeration.

Whatever the case may have been, Ray was small-time still. Master Yue let him go a year before but he trained himself diligently nonetheless. His self-confidence had indeed grown, and he didn't fear anyone anymore. Not even dear ol' Dad. So it was he was in the midst of kata in his bedroom when he heard a ruckus downstairs. He wandered down to see his red-nosed father striking down his mother with a chair. And when drunk Dad saw him, he rushed at Ray with the furniture. The young man didn't even hesitate, lashing out viciously in retaliation until his father was a bloody pulp, rendered unrecognizable even by his own parents. And Ray felt only satisfaction.

Ray attended his mother's funeral the end of the week while his father lay in the hospital, awaiting trial. But Ray went on trial, too, and spent a prison term -- although shorter than his father's -- in Ryker's. No one made Ray their bitch there after a couple healthy examples were set. Indeed, Ray developed a few useful friends who knew people who knew people in the city. When Ray got out, he already had a job lined up. He was invited to an underground pit-fighting tournament. The young man, now nineteen, couldn't believe his good luck. Naturally, he didn't claim the championship right away. But he was a rising star in the making.

By '85, Ray had claimed and kept the New York City pit-fighting championship belt for 2 consecutive years. His whole life was the fight. He practiced constantly. He had a few pals and a girlfriend off and on, but nothing was serious nor did he want it to be. He was far too enmeshed in the practice of the martial arts. So it was one evening that the champion pit-fighter's local fame caught up with him, for such a brilliant young combatant could not be overlooked by the shadowy masters of the city...

Embrace & Siring

Ray was practicing his kata in the Sheep’s Meadow in Central Park when Lel Mestipen fell upon him out of nowhere. After being drained of his blood, Lel fed the young man his old Gangrel blood. Now Changed, Ray opened his eyes to a new and curious world. It was the same place but a different night, different sounds. Lel dragged the still weak whelp from what was the heart of both Lupine and Camarilla territory north, to the Bronx. Confused and frail compared to his sire, Lel had little difficulty managing his new childe. However, Lel had little intent to manage him long.

Ray was brought before the Archbishop Francisco Domingo de Polonia. Polonia and Lel were old buddies from their frontier nights and it was no trouble for the Lasombra to accept the fledgling into his personal pack for training. Ray knew his sire for about a week before Lel returned to the wilderness as most “country” Gangrel do. And Ray was not real pleased with what he learned. His sire was extremely isolative, interacting with his childe only to beat him when Ray stepped the wrong way. Polonia made no attempt to stop that from happening, of course. Consequently, Ray learned that Sabbat elders and leaders based their authority on fear, not respect. This was something he understood!

Ray was initially presented with all of the most basic virtues of the Sabbat. Rituals, paths of “enlightenment”, and of course the Vaulderie. Ray partook in everything with measured zeal. He was no fanatic, and the Burial Rite hardly moved him. That was perhaps due to the young Gangrel’s natural talent with shapeshifting above and beyond most of his peers. It was also of course due to the fact that Ray was already an asshole, heh. But he was not a complete stooge. The Archbishop’s Pack Priest attempted to introduce Ray along the Path of Power and the Inner Voice. Not surprisingly, Ray rejected it. The Path of Honorable Accord likewise did not fit Ray’s mentality. What the Archbishop’s Pack, which consisted largely of Lasombra, did not realize was that Ray had been exposed to Malkavian antitribu from night one. His sire had put up a temporary haven in their little psycho-ward, and Ray was forced to endure the communal haven of some dozen or so Freaks. As their leader (at least that night) told him, in the legion of the insane, the sane man is the crazy one. So the Malkavian passed onto Ray the tenets and virtues of the Path of Harmony. It made sense to Ray, perhaps due to the Zen-ish upbringing of his martial arts training, and he took it to heart.

City Life

Well, slowly. The Jyhad flamed fiercely in New York City and he was battle-tested quickly. Camarilla Ventrue and allies pressed across the Harlem River into the Bronx. The Archbishop’s pack was first on the scene since the Archbishop’s headquartars was so close by. Ray fought with vigor and intensity that defined itself. The sharp-suited gunmen made him sick and he fell upon these Mafia-ish vampires hungrily. Indeed, as the battle began to die down, Ray happened across a badly wounded Ventrue trying to escape. Ray attacked him and weakened from the battle, sank his fangs into his neck and drank…and kept drinking. Prince Michaela’s childer were closer to Caine than Ray was, and in frenzied fervor Ray took the poor sap’s very soul. Ray collapsed back from the desiccated vampire, heart’s blood thumping through his cold flesh, his bangs now furled in lupine tendrils.

The celebration of the successful repel held Ray in a place of honor. Not only had he proved himself True Sabbat, he had tasted the forbidden fruits of diablerie. A Fire Dance was held for him and he leapt (and burnt himself quite a bit) with delight. Ray felt this was his place, a servant of the sect - the free, the immortal. Ray feasted with his brothers in glory, bathing in the blood of hapless human beings.

Over the next few years, Ray proved his bravery and wits in one dilemma or battle after another. He served his Archbishop well, and soon rose to Polonia’s right hand as one of the feared Templars. No task was too petty, no mission too difficult. He often performed scouting missions for the sect outside of the city, sometimes going on voyages into the wilderness to search for external threats. Ray heeded the wisdom of his sectmates and avoided the deadly Lupines, reporting when and where he saw them.

Ray’s hobbies reflected those of his mortal life. He spent countless hours in rigorous martial arts training and meditation, and some wondered why he wasn’t Embraced Assamite -- or at least offered a place in the Black Hand. But Ray was content as a Templar. The elders’ scheming he sometimes caught a glimpse of sickened him, and the life of a soldier is simple. He didn’t want to change berets, so to speak. Who knows what politics he would be diving into?

Truly, the martial arts were the center of Ray’s life and held him straight. His self-discipline was amazing; he had not frenzied since that first Jyhad. His “clean living” seemed to give him an almost intuitive edge only “soft” Toreador typically demonstrate. He was an amazing bodyguard, to be sure. His well-paced existence clashed, however, with the wild unlife of many of his sectmates. He never changed much in personality from the point of his Embrace, except in what knowing what he now knew would affect his behavior. Indeed, while many of his sectmates rebelled in psychopathic manners, or delved inwards in disturbing manners, Ray was the center of light. Of course, Ray bloodied his claws and often. Meshing his martial arts techniques with his Wolf’s Claws, Ray was a tornado of death in a brawl. His developing hardiness helped insure that his enemies would have to face him in that brawl, too, since his Gangrel flesh could easily shrug off many standard assaults.

Ray learned the limits of his Fortitude only when he participated in a “Lupine Hunt” game. A lone werewolf was caught and brought into the city, held in an abandoned subway to run loose, while Sabbat hunted the Lupine down for glory and thrill. A lone werewolf seemed to Ray a worthy challenge, but when it came down to he and the werewolf face-to-face, he nearly perished. It was only his sturdy self-discipline and masterful techniques that saved him, in fact, against the frustrated and frenzied Garou. Ray always bore a scar from the worst of the werewolf’s attacks -- a claw lash across his belly. Ray’s respect and fear for the Lupines grew.

And Ray began to see other fallacies long held by his sect. Humanity were all cattle, they preached, but Ray found it hard to think of a man named Jack Doyle as cattle. He witnessed this mere human gun down a trio of Giovanni and a half-dozen ghoul bodyguards as if they were merely mortal themselves. One or two bullets each and they never got up again. What sort of man was this, Ray wondered, who was so easily eliminating the enemies Ray was sent to spy on? Ray learned that Jack was a sorcerer, though obviously a blend of traditional and modern methods. Sorcerer or not, he was still human, so shouldn’t he be inferior to vampires? Ray pondered this, and no number of Vaulderies could erase this nagging questions about the sect’s confidence and the claim of “vampire superiority”.

Doubts

Keeping this veteran Euthanatos sorcerer as a secret friend and ally, they often embarked on adventures out of town together. Indeed, Ray began to request more and more “scouting” missions. As New York City seemed to grow more secure for the Sabbat, Polonia granted most of his requests. Sometimes those requests brought him as far as Kansas City and even San Francisco. In 1997, Ray and Jack traveled together to Puerto Rico in search of what Jack described as “an important spirit”. Ray tagged along for the thrill and chance to learn something his sectmates sure as hell didn’t know. In the course of the journey, Ray met Diana de la Cruz at a night-club where she sang.

A new friend, Ray and Diana grew close. Ray learned that Diana was of the unusual bloodline known as the Daughters of Cacophony. A young Neonate like himself, she was lost in her music, her pretty face scarred horrendously before she had even been Embraced in the 40s. But Ray didn’t care about her face. He saw her heart, true to itself, and respected that. And the time they spent together in Puerto Rico brought them closer together than Ray thought possible. Indeed, they were lovers after a month of adventuring together. Ray found himself able to open up to the sensational Diana, telling her things he never told anyone else. And she spoke to him in turn; they had fallen in love. Jack found it amusing, though kept it to himself. And the successful voyage, which revealed very little to Ray besides a trite matter regarding the Book of Nod, but yielded much more for Jack, concluded with all three returning to the Big Apple.

Diana obtained her own apartment in Greenwich Village (not far from Jack actually). Ray returned to the Bronx, sharing what little he learned, keeping Diana (and Jack, as always) a secret. For months, Ray often snuck into Manhattan to visit his companions, but his passage through Harlem did not go unnoticed. The Followers of Set, long set-up in that district, took note of the Gangrel. Their eldest Priest, Benoit de l’Orage, decided to take advantage of the young Gangrel’s secret treks. Setites cloaked in illusions to mimic Ray were able to infiltrate the Bronx and assassinate a couple prominient but low-ranked Sabbat. Of course, the sect was locally thrown into tumult at the circumstances. Fingers were pointed and a ruckus was started. Ray was never implicated, however, since the assassins were never even seen except perhaps coming and going through areas many other Sabbat went through. Ray didn’t even realize the trouble he had started, and continued his visits.

Intrigued, the sadistic Setite Priest had him spied upon, and Diana was discovered. Perhaps for a cruel game, or another scheme, Benoit had Diana kidnapped and taken to the Setite temple hidden within the Assyrian Baptist Church. Ray was informed of her location and assured that she’d be decapitated and her soul sent to Set if he didn’t show up alone. Benoit - a marvelous judge of character or a complete idiot who likes to gamble - history will never know. That was his last night on the planet.

Ray came alone, desperate. He had found the only thing that really mattered to him. The Sabbat’s rhetoric, hypocrisy, and egotism was wearing on his patience. His beliefs in Harmony guided him to something better. It also nearly got him killed that night. Ray stormed the temple and fought through ghouls and Setite whelps and assassins alike with terrible fury. Never had Templar Merripen fought so boldly and precisely. He was not, evidently, as emotionally unstable as Benoit had perhaps thought. Or Benoit knew and didn’t care, for the endgame would yield different circumstances.

In the heart of the temple Ray stood, Benoit lurking in the background as the last of his minions -- some dozen ghouls and childer -- surrounded the Gangrel. Meanwhile, Diana had been released from sorcerous bonds. The vicious battle ensued, and Ray was losing his temper, panicked that Diana had already been executed. Benoit extended his cruel, manipulative power, reining in Ray’s mind, and cutting it loose in a frenzy Ray had managed to prevent for over ten years. Benoit watched in glee as Ray shredded through his ghouls and childer and lover. For Diana, as desperately concerned as Ray was, had stumbled forward to try and aide Ray -- and was caught in the midst of Ray’s blind fury.

The fight ended with Ray surrounded by the bodies of his enemies and paramour. Diana didn’t even have any parting words for the Gangrel, coldly slain before she could more than shriek in alarm. Benoit watched with glee as Ray learned what true evil was, and how the Sabbat’s reckless callousness paled in comparison. For the first time ever, Ray wept, holding his lost. Benoit would have just walked out to revel in his cold brilliance had he counted on and prepared for Ray’s back-up. Jack Doyle saw through the Setite’s hiding illusions and shredded the dark vampire with a full barrage from his deadly, ensorceled sidearms. Benoit stumbled back into the temple, revealed, and Ray fell upon the seriously injured Elder with sheer rage. Jack left, refusing to watch Ray diablerize even Benoit, well-deserving of such a fate.

Ray looked up from his meal, eyes now golden-hued like the wolf. Wiping his mouth, he bore Diana from the temple and set a pyre for her. Only Jack attended this funeral, and only Jack witnessed Ray make a new oath. Never again would Ray be confused as to who’s side he’s on. It was time to leave the sect that made him and strike out on his own, perhaps find a new way in the world. Jack offered help to escape the city, and Ray gladly accepted. So began the next chapter in Ray’s fast-paced life.

Nomadic Times

The Jyhad was back in full swing and the whole city was in tumult. Polonia restrained his brethren from plunging into civil war and set them upon their enemies, the Camarilla, instead. The confusion provided Ray about the only real opportunity he’d have to escape the Big Apple without notice, and thus, a Wild Hunt called by his former comrades. With Jack’s help, he stole away through the Yonkers. A border security pack made up of Panders recognized him, however, and would have stopped him there had Jack not intervened. Still, it was a deadly battle, and the high-strung Gangrel lost his temper again. A frenzied rage nearly got him killed this time. Fortunately, Jack’s superior firepower helped send all of those Caitiffs back to their graves, and Ray slipped out. Jack promised to take responsibility for the deaths, as he was a known associate of the Camarilla Ventrue -- they had no qualms hiring him (such was the case with the hit on the Giovanni, in fact). Ray fled town, canine ears a testament to his failure to rein in the Beast again.

Ray began to wander like the Gypsies from which both his mortal and Kindred family are said to descend. He visited some of the cities through which he had passed as a Templar scout, such as Baltimore, Chicago, Kansas City, and San Francisco. In the City by the Bay, Ray observed a rule by the Camarilla he almost -- almost -- found strong and wise. They were still hypocrites pretending to be something they weren’t and Ray was not interested in staying. In the Windy City, Ray saw the handiwork of more egotistic idiocy, a city’s Cainite population decimated by the Lupines. For a few years, after meeting back up with Jack, he took to exploring and searching for lost secrets of the undead. A return to humanity and breathing life is not what he sought. Instead, he searched for a release from the threat of the Beast Within. It was that cruelty that had stolen the only thing he ever cared about. He would not let it happen again. The downplayed rumors of Golconda he now sought, and Jack was glad to help what he saw as a noble and proper purpose for a vampire.

Jack’s lore helped Ray begin the search, but from late 1997 to early 2002 yielded few positive results. They searched China and Brazil, India and Egypt. In the end, all that could be concluded was that Ray would have to resist the urges of the Beast Within as much as possible, and seek an “Enlightened Ancient” for further guidance. Perhaps the Inconnu…? Ray began to lose hope. A dangerous plot from sources Ray never identified worsened matters as Jack was seperated from the Gangrel. Ray did not see or hear from Jack since London where the sorcerous assassin first fell upon them. Jack simply vanished and Ray was forced to return to the States, all but empty-handed.

Dark Eden

Ray decided to settle awhile in Kansas City. He had been in and out of the city several times since leaving the sect and once before as a messenger to the ailing Sabbat effort located therein. Ray knew the Midwestern city’s politics permitted no sect’s complete dominance, so if he could keep out of the way, he felt sure he’d be fairly safe from enemies and politics alike. Since spring of 2002, Ray lived night-to-night in the outskirts of the city. He made few acquaintances, but the fellow Gangrel, Jana Drake, drew his attention for a time. Even so, her charm did not distract Ray for long from the continued development of his own martial arts style that he entitled Go-Tsume-Do -- the Way of the Five Claws, a mixture of his shorei-ryu training and his application of clawing and biting techniques natural to the vampiric arsenal. It was obvious his tale would be long from over.

Magical Artifacts


Blood Pouch
Origin: Ray received this as a gift from Archbishop Polonia, who actually passed it on from Ray's sire Lel Mestipen. Lel and Francisco were ol' Wild West buddies before their age dictated greater roles in the sect.
Description: This small skin dates back centuries. It has no doubt lasted due to the enchantments woven upon it by some intrepid blood sorcerer. It is brown and leathery and fairly innocuous -- a minor but useful possession.
Effects: 1) store 1 Blood Point indefinitely
Activation: Put some blood in it.

Significant Other


Jana Drake was a cold fish until Ray’s persistent advances won her over in 2003. The two Gangrel Neonates became inseparable when she hired him as a bodyguard. Ray got as close as he could and more. When an old enemy of Jana threatened her life, Ray turned his formidable abilities honed as a Sabbat Templar years ago on the antagonist. Once he finally freed her of this long-time danger, Jana was even more open to their exchanges. Now the pair share a mutual Blood Bond, united by their strong vitae and fierce emotions. Ray knows how much Jana wants him and he lusts after her in turn. These two will probably stake out a long existence together, unless fate shatters their fiercely passionate relationship. The two must be forever vigilant, even without known enemies on the horizon.

Jana

Weakness
The Withheld Beast


Ray does not hide from his vampiric nature. He simply doesn't revel in it. He doesn't pine over lost humanitas either. He simply accepts what he is and lives. However, frenzies are uncalled for -- as uncalled for as whining over past mortality. So he restrains the extremes of his Beast Within, and its anger builds. Perhaps there is a secret to his existence he doesn't realize but his soul recoils from in self-hatred.

Likelihood of Corruption


High.

Ray is actually closer to peace than he thinks, though there is still a very long road ahead. And because of that long road that will be filled with temptations and spiritual dangers, the likelihood of him falling from grace is far greater than him achieving Golconda. The odds are stacked against the undead, especially when it comes to saving themselves from themselves.

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