Post by Storyteller on Jan 31, 2016 1:23:47 GMT
Barbarian, skald, lord, assassin, scourge.
These and less polite things are the epithets of this darkest of Toreador.
In any other domain such a man would be hounded and hunted to the border and beyond.
Here, in the Haemus Peninsula on the far shore of the world, such a man achieves gainful employ.
His dexterity is legendary, his quickness unsurpassed.
With the speed of an ancient and the heartless skill of a spider, this ambush artist has earned through perfidy and guile an unmatched reputation for ruthlessness.
In at least 3 domains Loki Runetongue has won the darkest prize, the sanctioned blood hunt. He lives to drink the blood of his elder. He loves to drink this blood.
This is no rumour. He will speak freely of his desire to know what Caine knows, to achieve the Dark Apotheosis of the Blood. Try to stop him as he waxes poetic, as his strange accent from a land of midnight sun gilds his words.
His disturbing lust for blood makes the Malkavians seem less mad, his sinister raptures, murmured paeans and poetics stir the Toreador breast in awful, terrible, and horrifyingly beautiful ways.
He is the most feared cainite in the area.
He is Didaskalos' ambiguously loyal scourge.
Why is he still here? What makes him stay?
These and less polite things are the epithets of this darkest of Toreador.
In any other domain such a man would be hounded and hunted to the border and beyond.
Here, in the Haemus Peninsula on the far shore of the world, such a man achieves gainful employ.
His dexterity is legendary, his quickness unsurpassed.
With the speed of an ancient and the heartless skill of a spider, this ambush artist has earned through perfidy and guile an unmatched reputation for ruthlessness.
In at least 3 domains Loki Runetongue has won the darkest prize, the sanctioned blood hunt. He lives to drink the blood of his elder. He loves to drink this blood.
This is no rumour. He will speak freely of his desire to know what Caine knows, to achieve the Dark Apotheosis of the Blood. Try to stop him as he waxes poetic, as his strange accent from a land of midnight sun gilds his words.
His disturbing lust for blood makes the Malkavians seem less mad, his sinister raptures, murmured paeans and poetics stir the Toreador breast in awful, terrible, and horrifyingly beautiful ways.
He is the most feared cainite in the area.
He is Didaskalos' ambiguously loyal scourge.
Why is he still here? What makes him stay?