*shakes head*
This account name is "Prince Devlin"...
It's in reference to my second, and best loved, character in our little roleplaying tradition...
He worked from innocent obscurity to become the tyrannical, half-mad god-king of the Western Canadian supernatural populace.
Yet, it availed him naught.
Let me tell you a story.
Tyrel Devlin, born on the fifth of July, nineteen-eighty-five. A young boy with aspirations to become an actor. But tragedy struck when a group of wayward Kindred of Clan Brujah struck down his parents before his very eyes. He was entrusted to the care of his older brother, one Caern Devlin. They lived together, for a time, until Caern found himself under fang-and-dominion of Talon Everette, a vampiric mistress with her fingers in a great many pies. Caern, never being one to care much for slavery or servitude, offered up to Talon his prodigal younger brother in exchange for his freedom.
So, young Tyrel, only eighteen at this point, got sold-out by his guardian, best-friend, and brother to a ruthless dominatrix of the night. She came upon our young, naive protagonist with all the charm and aplomb of a Siren lulling the unwary to their doom. Before that night was through, he too had joined the ranks of the Damned.
Over the course of the years, he was summarily betrayed by his Sire, again by his brother, and by more-or-less everyone who crossed his path. Over the course of the next several decades, his youthful lust for life and love dwindled, guttered, and died. Hate, Malice, Jealousy, and an unquenchable thirst to never again lose that control that kept him safe once... these were all that were important... And so it was a natural and simple step to force the abdication of one Aulora, one-time Prince of Calgary, to abdicate her position.
His reign, bloody, terrible, but ultimately ordered, continued from there, for two-hundred years. He dealt with insurrections and disobediance with the alacrity of a Vengeance God, and his domain grew in land and populace.
But it was, as I already mentioned, all for naught.
He gained this power, but found it to be trivial. It helped in no way to perpetuate his own long-deceased happiness, nor did it allow him rest or peace of mind.
Enter, me.
I have a group of quasi-talented roleplayers.
Yet I find myself every day of my life regretting and wishing things were the way they once were. I don't need Jordan, or Luke, or even Colin. Chris, a steadfast friend, remains, as does my love. And Seth has proven himself to be far more noble and devoted than many others.
This doesn't change the fact that I miss my old group, the way it was, the cohesion and the control.
We had nary a care when the door to that basement was shut. It was all the here-and-now of roleplaying, with little-to-no consideration for the outside world.
But this group doesn't have that.
They have other friends.
Other lives.
*shakes head*
I am the last of a dying breed.
This group, this gaming, this lifestyle... it's all I have to cling to.
I am aged well before my time, and jaded before my measure.
Over................ and out.
-Devlin
It's in reference to my second, and best loved, character in our little roleplaying tradition...
He worked from innocent obscurity to become the tyrannical, half-mad god-king of the Western Canadian supernatural populace.
Yet, it availed him naught.
Let me tell you a story.
Tyrel Devlin, born on the fifth of July, nineteen-eighty-five. A young boy with aspirations to become an actor. But tragedy struck when a group of wayward Kindred of Clan Brujah struck down his parents before his very eyes. He was entrusted to the care of his older brother, one Caern Devlin. They lived together, for a time, until Caern found himself under fang-and-dominion of Talon Everette, a vampiric mistress with her fingers in a great many pies. Caern, never being one to care much for slavery or servitude, offered up to Talon his prodigal younger brother in exchange for his freedom.
So, young Tyrel, only eighteen at this point, got sold-out by his guardian, best-friend, and brother to a ruthless dominatrix of the night. She came upon our young, naive protagonist with all the charm and aplomb of a Siren lulling the unwary to their doom. Before that night was through, he too had joined the ranks of the Damned.
Over the course of the years, he was summarily betrayed by his Sire, again by his brother, and by more-or-less everyone who crossed his path. Over the course of the next several decades, his youthful lust for life and love dwindled, guttered, and died. Hate, Malice, Jealousy, and an unquenchable thirst to never again lose that control that kept him safe once... these were all that were important... And so it was a natural and simple step to force the abdication of one Aulora, one-time Prince of Calgary, to abdicate her position.
His reign, bloody, terrible, but ultimately ordered, continued from there, for two-hundred years. He dealt with insurrections and disobediance with the alacrity of a Vengeance God, and his domain grew in land and populace.
But it was, as I already mentioned, all for naught.
He gained this power, but found it to be trivial. It helped in no way to perpetuate his own long-deceased happiness, nor did it allow him rest or peace of mind.
Enter, me.
I have a group of quasi-talented roleplayers.
Yet I find myself every day of my life regretting and wishing things were the way they once were. I don't need Jordan, or Luke, or even Colin. Chris, a steadfast friend, remains, as does my love. And Seth has proven himself to be far more noble and devoted than many others.
This doesn't change the fact that I miss my old group, the way it was, the cohesion and the control.
We had nary a care when the door to that basement was shut. It was all the here-and-now of roleplaying, with little-to-no consideration for the outside world.
But this group doesn't have that.
They have other friends.
Other lives.
*shakes head*
I am the last of a dying breed.
This group, this gaming, this lifestyle... it's all I have to cling to.
I am aged well before my time, and jaded before my measure.
Over................ and out.
-Devlin