Tristan Blue

Clan Gangrel
Arm of Autonomy

Description


~Rough rider: that describes the first impression one might get of Tristan Blue well enough. The mid-20s something Caucasian’s long face hasn’t seen a razor in weeks. An intense brown-eyed gaze contrasts with roustabout attire. Tristan seems to be going nowhere fast in life, especially when he can’t even be bothered to wash the mud off his jeans or Wolverine work boots. He also frequently wears a wife beater; apparently, he’s proud of that tattoo on the well-built bicep of his right arm. It’s nothing special though: a grim reaper image with four claw marks slashing through. The only other adornments one might find on Tristan are a Wal-mart wristwatch on his left wrist and a gold stud in his left earlobe. Tristan comports his lean figure with a relaxed and almost bored veneer. When he reaches some new locale, he sweeps a hand through his short dark-brown hair and prepares for the inevitable riot of reality.~

OOC: Appearance 2

"All I hear is 'sit', 'heel', and 'play dead'. How about 'don't be nuts'? Can I get a hoo-yah?"

History


Youth

Once a resident of Bayonne, Louisiana, Tristan Blue was the only son of a poor working class family, born in ‘76. His father Vic and mother Gwen both met in the tile factory where they worked. Even with having one child, they could barely make ends meet. Their wages weren’t bad. Vic just had bad gambling habits and Gwen couldn’t budget for the life of her. And she enjoyed her share of lottery tickets. That left Tristan entertaining himself as best as a poor kid could.

Sure, the boy had friends. They played ball, but he always felt left behind when they broke out all their cool G.I. Joe toys. When that happened, Tristan usually wandered off to play with his “other” friends – the several dogs the Blues kept. He always seemed to have a knack with canines, and enjoyed training them to obey his simple commands. He got plenty of exercise running around with the German Shepherd, Rottweiler, and two Scotties that his parents owned.

Army Man

But after dropping out of high school and struggling with crap jobs, Tristan got his G.E.D. and wondered if he could put his affinity with dogs to work. Maybe he could start a business training people’s dogs? The idea seemed great, but he needed seed money so he could live alone and didn’t have to work out of his parents’ basement. Where else could Tristan turn but Uncle Sam? Uncle Sam wouldn’t give him a loan but he did give Tristan a decent job.

Tristan was sent to Fort Benning, Georgia, under the predictable MOS of infantry. He survived basic training and bade his parents good-bye. He was to be stationed in South Korea. In Camp Red Cloud, Tristan performed his simple duties and constant training with a placid interest. He made casual efforts to get to know the Korean people and culture better. And sure, he went out with the boys and had a good time in town.

His solid obedience earned him the chance to put his skills with dogs to good use finally in ’96. Tristan began MP training, specifically as a canine unit. He passed the military police academy and met his new partner – She-Ra. Ha! She-Ra was a good dog though, and Tristan was actually happy for a time. But not even a year later, he was washed out of the army. A drug bust on base went bad, and he took the fall-out just so his CO could save face.

Roustabout

With a dishonorable discharge under his belt, Tristan had grim hopes for the future. He even had to surrender some of his pay. So much for dreams, eh? Tristan began to drift from town to town and pathetic job from job. He worked oil fields in Texas and orchards in Louisiana. He flipped burgers at truck stops and chopped wood at campsites.

Indeed, Tristan pretty much lived at campsites, most of them by the side of the road and of his own making. He didn’t own anything but the clothes on his back and a few basic tools. The homeless Tristan had pretty much given up on dreams, and he lived with the dim hope of pure luck turning his life around.

That was when Kos Nanders decided to have Tristan for lunch. The Gangrel neonate later told Tristan that the drifting young man reminded Kos of his hobo days back after World War II. But their first encounter wasn’t friendly at all. The vampire pounced Tristan one night in the summer of 2001, revealing a definite lack of self-control when he drained Tristan dry of blood. Tristan was given a choice: die or become a Gangrel vampire himself that night.

Well, that wasn’t a choice at all. Tristan spasmed through the Embrace. Shivering near his dwindling campfire, he listened to the feral Kos relate everything he needed to know about the Kindred: the Traditions, the blood, the Beast. Then Kos was gone. Tristan didn’t realize it at first, but Kos was watching to see how the whelp adjusted to his new existence.

Mad Dog

It wasn’t easy, but Tristan had always been a thick-skinned fellow. For several nights, Tristan wandered and took cover during the day, prowling for blood at night from animals or humans. He quickly got the hang of it, to be honest. It seemed like everything could be great again, and he hoped to see Kos one more time. In fact, he hoped he and Kos would hang around together awhile.

But when Kos showed his face again, it was unrecognizable. In just a week, Tristan’s sire seemed to have been consumed by his own Beast. He looked like an animal, like some sort of human-gorilla-pig thing! Snarling in incomprehensible fury, Kos leaped out and pounced Tristan. He started to drink Tristan’s blood again, but it must not have been satisfactory, because the mad Gangrel leaped away and ran off into the night.

Tristan never saw Kos again, and hoped he never would. Kos had fallen to Wassail, a state of madness he warned Tristan against himself! Fearful that his sire would return, and recalling the warning of the terrifying Lupines, Tristan hurried to the nearest city, which happened to be New Orleans.

From then on, Tristan became an urban Outlander. He befriended Anarchs and other young Kindred in whatever city to which he wandered. Despite having friends among Anarchs, such as a fellow Gangrel named Judy Napier of Independence, Missouri, he didn’t annoy the Camarilla lords so much. Because of his tendency to stay out of the way in cities, he ended up in the sewers – only to step on the toes of the Nosferatu. A few run-ins were repelled when Tristan flew into a clawing frenzy. Hell, Tristan even scared himself!

So Tristan never spent more than a year or two in any single city, and usually only a few months, as he headed north. Tired of running, he decided to settle down somewhere for a while, and Centropolis seemed as good as any. He left Independence with Judy’s farewell gift: Quaid, a fine German Shepherd that responded well to Kindred blood and would make an excellent ghoul companion. With his new friend, Tristan decided he’d even bite the bullet and present himself to the local Prince. Better to deal with a strict Prince, he wagered, then a psychotic sire!

Significant Other


Alya Remov stumbled across Tristan in the Rack in spring of 2008. The academic Brujah wasn’t Tristan’s usual speed. But he had a healthy respect for Alya’s clan, and was intrigued by her story and specialties. He helped the older woman acclimate into town. Discovering her OCD and isolative bookwormish tendencies, he encouraged Alya to be more assertive and “sexy”. In the process of pressing this college professor-like Brujah how to exert more feminine allure, Tristan was inadvertently seduced, too! The two hit it off, and their devil-may-care attitudes keep the pair close as they confront the nights ahead.

Alya

Weakness
Uncommitted


Despite Tristan’s clan’s reputation for their sense of loyalty, Tristan so far proves to be a wishy-washy nobody. He lingers in a metropolitan setting more out of fear than personality, and thus he never quite fits in.

Likelihood of Corruption


Average.

Currently, Tristan is not liable to fly into too many more frenzies. He knows the end result. And he’s really not that important of a Cainite for any external entities to bother with at this time.

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