Rodolfo Otávio, Caitiff

[bloodsprite]

photo from before his life changed, when he could smile in the sun


My name is Rodolfo Otávio, and I have a story to tell. It's a story of tragedy, addiction, redemption, and the darkest depths of the supernatural. I was raised in a household filled with animals. My mother was a veterinarian, dedicated to healing creatures, great and small, and my father was a dog trainer, imparting his wisdom and love for animals to me. Growing up, our home was a sanctuary for all sorts of creatures, and I developed a deep bond with them.
As I grew older, I pursued a career in cosmetic medical esthetics, following in my mother's footsteps of healing, albeit in a different capacity. Life seemed perfect—I had a beautiful wife and a lovely child. But fate can be a cruel mistress, and everything changes instantly.
It was a dark, stormy night when tragedy struck. We were driving home from visiting my in-laws when a drunk driver slammed into our car. The impact instantly killed my wife and child, while I miraculously survived, albeit with serious injuries. The pain I felt, both physically and emotionally, was unbearable. I used pain pills to cope, seeking solace in their numbing effects.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and I found myself trapped in the clutches of addiction. The pain pills became my only solace, the only way to escape the haunting memories and the overwhelming grief. I lost my job, my friends, and my sense of self. I hit rock bottom.
But something inside me refused to surrender to the darkness. I mustered every ounce of willpower and decided to reclaim my life. I joined Narcotics Anonymous meetings, seeking support from others who had battled similar demons. I exercised, channeling my pain and frustration into physical exertion.
As I slowly regained control over my life, I longed for companionship. This presence could offer unwavering loyalty and love. Then, I stumbled upon an English Mastiff female dog, abandoned and alone. She became my saving grace, my constant companion. I named her Luna, and together we embarked on a journey of healing and transformation.
One evening, I walked through the park after attending an NA meeting. Little did I know that this seemingly ordinary night would lead me anew into the heart of darkness. As I wandered deeper into the garden, I stumbled upon a chilling scene—an underground Vampire Sabbat Shovel party. The Sabbat vampires were mercilessly burying homeless individuals, knocking them unconscious and transforming them into vampires.
Before I could react, I was ambushed by what I found out later was the Sabbat. First, they violently drained me of my blood, their cold, insatiable hunger as my pulse echoed slowly in my ears. Then, desperate to survive, I instinctively drank hungrily when their leader forced their tainted blood into my veins, initiating my transformation into a vampire. Finally, they discarded my weakened body into a hastily dug grave already half-filled with dirt from burying many others beneath me, leaving me to fight back from the brink of death with a frenzied hoard buried not that much further beneath me as I came back into myself. 
Summoning every ounce of strength, I dug myself out of the grave, emerging as a creature of the night. But the struggle had just begun. I teetered on the edge of a blood frenzy, overwhelmed by a thirst I could barely control. My primal instincts fought against my human sensibilities, threatening to consume me entirely. Clawed hands were boiling out of the ground behind me with eyes lost of all intelligence, only raw animal fury. The will that I had found in overcoming my addictions I now harnessed to stay my madness.

I ran and ran as I calmed down; I decided to go to my workplace, where I was a  medical esthetician physician, to tend to my wounds, and I was achingly hungry; Hangry was not an adequate word; I could eat that leftover Chinese I left in the fridge from earlier today.

I was so hungry I was almost beyond sense; I decided to eat first before cleaning; I headed to the fridge and tried to eat not only mine but everyone else's food and drink. Soon I was running to the trash room and puking it all out. But I found a sinister solution: drinking the discarded blood from medical waste in the bin there. The smell had drawn me in as I hauled liposuction waste bags out and sucked, congealing blood off the settled fats. It was a gruesome necessity; my hunger had no end. The taste of blood was so delicious while my mind repulsed at how gross my new existence was and what a lifeline this waste was to keep me from completely losing myself.

My hunger was almost satiated; I could think at least; my wounds were not to be found as I scrubbed off dirt and blood in the shower near the surgery; throwing out my clothes with the medical waste to be incinerated, I donned scrubs.

However, I knew I couldn't rely solely on the macabre sustenance I found at work. So I returned home to think but found Luna, my beloved English Mastiff, unaware of the danger I posed to her. Overwhelmed by the scent of her warm blood, I nearly succumbed to the darkness within me, ready to drain her dry as it would not fill my thirst.
But in a moment of clarity, I realized the horror of what I was about to do. Tears streaming down my face, I recoiled in horror, fighting against my monstrous desires. I couldn't bear the thought of harming the one being who had shown me unwavering love and loyalty.
With a newfound determination, I made a desperate decision. I sliced my flesh and allowed my blood to drip into Luna's mouth, hoping it would save her from the brink of death, just as it had saved me.

As Luna stirred, her panting breaths growing steady again, I wept. I had come to terms with my new existence as a vampire, understanding the horrors and sacrifices that came with it. Yet, at that moment, I also realized I still had the capacity for love, compassion, and protection.
Now, Luna and I navigate this shadowy world together, fighting against our primal instincts and the darkness surrounding us. We are bound by blood, united by a love that transcends the boundaries of life and death. And though our journey is fraught with danger and uncertainty, we will face it together, with the flickering light of hope guiding our way.

And as the flickering light of the sun rose, I felt a burning sensation as the first dawn twilight from the windows of my house fell on my skin. I realized something new and horrible about my new existence. Flailing, desperate to hide my unique condition and deciding I needed time to think, I called in sick before hiding in the bathroom with no windows, stuffing towels under the door, and falling asleep in its hard tub.

When I awoke the next night, I felt half myself; I went to the clinic to drink the day's waste and was almost satiated. However, when I encountered an unconscious homeless lady on my way from the clinic, I was drawn to her neck and found myself biting. She gasped and froze in pleasure, and soon I discovered I could drain just a quart or two without killing. 

Even after drinking to my fill, I still felt weak; I returned to the disturbed soil of my vampiric rebirth. I thought to contemplate my new existence, but it was as if drawn to it; I just wanted desperately to lay in that soil and fall asleep. I eventually pried myself from the area and returned home to sleep in my bathtub during the day.

I woke barely hungry but feeling even more horrible, and something was pulling me again to the place of my rebirth; I passed the homeless lady I supped on before ignoring her as I had a new draw to stare longingly at the soil of my vampiric revival, just wanting to lay in it and fall asleep. Staring at it, fighting my instinctual urge to bury myself in it and sleep, I realize, I need that soil!

I looked for something to transport dirt in and found a wheeled trash cart. Tipping it over to empty it of its trash, I go to the ground, digging the vampire hoard loosened soil with my hands and dumping it in the cart until it's filled. I then cart it all the way home, going in through the back sliding doors to the bathroom and filling the tub with dirt.

I leave the trash cart in my living room, feed Luna, and return to bury myself in the cool loam soil in my tub, giving into blissful sleep early.

Soon over the next few months, I realized I could seduce those I could find at night, going in as if to kiss their necks and instead sucking the blood of life as they froze in pleasure. So I stepped back from my medical practice and found a physician that could fill my role during the day, barely managing to keep a house under my feet; it helped that I no longer had an expensive restaurant habit eating up all my money, and the insurance money that I hadn't touched before.

I soon ran into another vampire while hunting for the next to seduce; I could hear their lack of pulse and noticed their pale looks and predator's eyes. I watched them as they trolled the night, looking for a likely meal. I was slightly angered that they were on my usual hunting grounds. Still, I calmed myself, telling myself I didn't know the rules of this interaction. How do vampires organize? How I was brought about as a vampire seemed messy and disaster-prone, it seemed designed to cause havoc. But I had heard nothing of it in the news; there wasn't even police tape around the disturbed ground, just a fresh planting of flowers like the hole was made on purpose. So some organization must hide these events from everyday people. And if an organization exists, there are politics, agreements, and understandings. But my creation was messy... so a separate group must thumb its nose at the ones that hide the mess...

The trick now is how to survive inferring all this; I decided to leave and think about it. So I sit at home and think, do I want to be aligned with the messy ones or the ones that clean things up? And the place where I live must be filled with the ones who clean up problems, and those who like chaos must be an invading party. So if I want to continue living here and keep my business, I should align myself with the ones that like to clean up problems and hide that the chaotic ones made me. So now to a story, I shall make...

I will say in my story that I was a few months old when the one that created me failed to return on the night of my actual vampiric creation. This way, it could be inferred my creator died on the night of that invasion. They had not taught me much or shown their face or even their name; they told me how to hunt quietly and that it was important not to leave a mess on pain of my destruction, and there were a bunch of rules I must learn once I have proven I can do that. But that was where my education cut off. I will not mention the dirt, which is a weakness, and it is not good to present weakness; I should also secure access to it with backup locations and hidden supplies! It may be a common weakness, but I should find out without revealing mine, and I'd be well to protect myself so they can not deprive me of my soil...

Backstory To be Continued, Camarilla and the politics thereof...




 

Edited August 22, 2023 by bloodsprite (see edit history)

[bloodsprite]

I started experimenting with how little soil I needed, going about finding the absolute minimum required for a good rest. It ended up only being a few handfuls, but the difference in rest was huge. I also worked to figure out my abilities, discovering I could now talk to Luna; she would always beg me for my blood like it was crack. I suppose there is a conflict between chaotic and orderly vampires; I must be prepared to defend myself. I trained Luna's attack commands and fight strategy. I returned fervently to my own gun and kendo training, mail-ordering several samurai swords of varying quality and building a cache of small firearms that I would fire at the range. I started testing my weaknesses; silver does nothing more, garlic smells, and I can wander into people's houses. These must all be myths. I cut myself and found that the wounds would heal if I concentrated, but I'd be hungrier for blood. I started taking Luna to dog fights to make money and to train her more, I could talk to her and command her strategy, and when I got home, my blood would heal her. She was faster, more challenging, and stronger than before, and she now loved and obeyed me like a god. My senses heightened, and I could hear and see more than when I was alive. I found I could mold my flesh like it was clay, but I could heal my molded flesh like other wounds if I concentrated and didn't mind how hungry it made me; that was the weirdest.

 

I also prepared my lies and myself to run if needed. I rented a few storage lockers at different edges of town using money cards bought with cash at many convenience stores, go bags, and soil in reserve disguised in dead potted plants where the pot looked like something old someone might have saved, hidden amongst furniture I had collected from tree lawns to conceal the storage so that it looked ordinary.

 

I felt ready as I ever would and started seeking out to find a calm vampire that I may introduce myself. With my dog in tow, a bullet/cut-proof vest under my best suit, small firearms hidden about my person, a concealed carry license in case authorities dare question, and a "wakizashi" Japanese short sword in a sheath under my armpit. I waited for a pale predator-eye person without a heartbeat several nights at the club I was at before, it was a few weeks before they came, but when they did, I walked up with as much confidence as I could project.

 

 "Excuse me; my education was cut short. I know there are rules I must learn about how we must interact, but I have given up on the one that created me, returning to teach me more. Can you direct me to what organization there is and what I must do?" I turned to Luna. "Stop growling and sit, Luna," and turning back to the new vampire I had just met. "Sorry, she is quite protective but very obedient." Little did the strange vampire know how much training I did with Luna to ensure that my script was followed to a T, but she did it perfectly each time, from the first to this last time.

***

It took some years, but I had installed myself in the Camarilla, playing the game of politics well enough for a while as a "Catiff." Little had they learned, but I soon understood I was a Tzimisce. As I educated myself, I was careful not to ask about them more than any other Sabbat clan. 

 

I learned of their "Masquerade" and started slowly making my replacement day physician look more and more like me using my skills at modeling flesh like clay, and had him marry me and take my last name. The legal setup was perfect; I could be him, he could be me as needed, and as a spouse, he had all the legal powers to do what I wanted for my identity during the day. I also made some alterations to myself, moving one fang into my pointer finger, painting it with metallic nail polish, pointing my nails, and painting them the same. With a fang on my finger sharpened with my bone craft, I had the perfect scalpel, one whose cut I could heal without stitches.

 

But apparently, I had risen too fast and my hunting ground too wide for a "Catiff." And since I did not have a chorus of voices objecting, without a clan to back me, I learned that it was being discussed that I should be "Volen-told" to move to Savana. 

It probably wasn't the Anarch Malkavian group, a Bunch of nutters with no respect; I didn't like their "prank," and they didn't like my retaliatory "prank" either. But they have not much sway in the Camarilla.

It was probably the Camarilla Ventrue, Just because I am "Caitiff" and will not scrape and bow more than I am forced to.

The quick sale of my assets is not good; I was renting the building, I was over leverage to grow it, and now I am leaving to Savanna with just the basic medical equipment to make a set dressing for a medical facility on a sitcom. And still trying to sell the business name back in my original city.

Edited June 19, 2023 by bloodsprite (see edit history)

[bloodsprite]

"You keep saying 'Caitiff' like it's some dirty word; I just come without the complex baggage. You're Ventrue; how many deals have you seen others in your clan backtrack on because someone higher in your clan said so? You don't want to be seen to work with me because I am a 'Caitiff,' but you don't want to be seen with whoever you get to do this if you want it to be deniable.

Now if you make this deal with that Tremere you are about to talk to instead of me, you have to worry that her whole chain of command above her is on board too, and they will let this minorly embarrassing clandestine operation of yours stay secret.

Besides, I already know about it; the best way to keep it a secret is to let me be culpable too; I can't embarrass you for something I was a party to.

And what I am asking for is not some future boon yet to be named and hanging over your head; I will let you know what I want now. I would like that you invest in my business with a little bit of your vast money; I was successful in my last city, it's just that closing suddenly when ordered here was not conducive to selling a business for top dollar, and unlike you, I don't have a clan network to trade my business on. What do you say to 10% not of profit but of revenue? It's generous enough that you can claim that you strong-armed me into this deal, not that I asked for it; I get my business off the ground here, you make a very generous return, help me ensure that I don't upset any of your or your clan mates' business concerns by picking a site without telling me what those concerns are, Yet still have the motivation to pick somewhere good for me because it makes you the most money for as long as possible, and I know you won't sabotage my business on a whim because I will be making you money. I'll show you the public and private books for my last operation, my customer demographic, and a comparison of market demographics between here and my last city.

It's like asking you to let me do you a favor in return for letting me do you a favor."

Edited June 17, 2023 by bloodsprite (see edit history)