†Samantha Dawn

From Ravenblack CityWiki

Jump to: navigation, search
CharacterMarionette.jpg Player-written

User | Talk | Vampire | Discussion | Financial Report | Battle Stats | History | Daily Log | Vampboxes | Mushi | Maps | Navigation | Signature | Sandpit |

Someone's favourite article!

Samantha Dawn


Statistical Information

The vampire Samantha Dawn is the rank of Local Legend.
Powers: Second-sight Suction Surprise Perception Celerity(3) Stamina(3) Shadows(3) Thievery(3) Locate(3) Telepathy(3) Charisma(3)
Samantha Dawn is sire to one other vampires including †theoldman
Samantha Dawn lineage runs as follows †Vermathrax-rex,†Devil Miyu and the master vampire †JanusDP

                
Sammibannerroseadd.jpg













General Information

Samantha Dawn
Samantha Dawn




Full Name: Samantha Dawn

Name History: Bestowed the Surname Dawn April 9,2008. Honored with an eternal place within the prestigious Dawn family by the Dawn Sovereign the eve prior to her binding to Lord Galamushi.

Nicknames: Sam,Sammie and most recently, Blossom.

Nationality: Trans-Carpathian

Place of Origin: Lyuta, Present day Ukraine

Species: Hybrid

  • Vampire (Homo Nocturnis)
  • Lycan Dominant Transformation (Homo Lycanthropy)


Gender: Female

Orientation: Open

Relationship Status: Single/ Rebel without a cause

Age: 122

Apparent Age: 24

Date of Mortal Birth: December 2, 1890

Date of Embracement: August 1910, Turned by Majica

Date of City Entrance: August 2007

Cell Number: samanthadawn@ymail.com

Autobiography [1]: It's my story and I am sticking to it.

Appearance

Laetitia-casta-12.jpg
FemaleLycon300.jpg
Lc13.jpg
La casta by 0 N E.jpg



Hair: Predominantly Auburn

  • Long to small of back
  • Wide natural curl
  • Known to be short, black, blonde or red


Eyes: Emerald-Green

  • Obsidian - anger, pain, shifting
  • Iridescent Lime - stimulation, arousal


Height: Average

  • 5'8
  • 5'11 Shift


Measurements: Exceptional

  • 38-23-36


Weight: Proportional

  • 120 lbs
  • 140 lbs Shift


Body Structure 1: Relaxed

  • Toned
  • Mortal appearing
  • Athletic


Body Structure 2: Shift

  • Musculoskeletal system elongates
  • Fluid like shifting
  • Grey skin
  • Dark talons


Physical Markings: Concealed

  • Brand Ent Crest - top right foot


Attire: Indulgent

  • Obsession for leather
  • Stilettos, boots
  • Haute couture - sumptuous, glamorous, classic
  • Silk layers
  • Each piece must fit like a glove
  • Ball gown collection to die for
  • Lingerie exclusively tailored
  • No Wool, refuses to touch or wear
  • Corset fanatic


Jewelry: Precious Gifts

  • Diamond Rings
  • Succubus Earrings
  • Heart Locket
  • Diamond studded chasity belt
  • Titanium designer handcuffs
  • Royal Peridot Floating Ring
  • Topaz Ring,Earrings & Necklace
  • Cultured Pearl & Diamond Parure


Weapons: Tools of Reason

  • Ruby & Diamond encrusted dagger
  • Pulouar Sword circa late 18th century
  • Body and mind


Personal Items/Objects: Treasures

  • 1908 German Reuss Royal Queen guilloche case















Personal Preferences

Ellefr-apr04bw.jpg
Sambrownwra300.jpg
Titled300.jpg
Tdlcn017.jpg
Samanthakimion.jpg
Main.jpg
JeweledSamantha.jpg




Personality: Like it or Not

  • Passionate
  • Mischievious
  • Respectful
  • Sensual
  • Assertive
  • Impulsive
  • Tenacious
  • Playful
  • Motivated
  • Loyal
  • Protective
  • Expressive
  • Guarded
  • Romantic
  • Creative
  • Thick-skinned
  • Obstinate
  • Sarcastic
  • Skeptical
  • Confident
  • Self-sufficient


Likes: Do it To Me One More Time

  • Blood, silky warm and freshly drawn
  • Discipline
  • Honesty
  • Earning what I have
  • Getting the last drop
  • Deep, skin tingling Blues Music
  • Seduction
  • Confidence
  • Privacy
  • Dark Cold Nights
  • Back stage passes
  • Private Showings
  • Violent Weather
  • French language
  • Independence
  • History
  • Dancing
  • Classical Piano
  • Impressionism
  • Baroque Architecture
  • Surprises
  • Accountability
  • Art
  • Mendelssohn


Dislikes: Reasons to See You Later

  • Sire/Family/Clan Hoppers
  • Hang nails
  • Losing a hunter
  • Blood Banks
  • Warnings
  • Empty Threats
  • Uneven fangs
  • Being told "No!"
  • Locks without a key
  • Wool
  • Immortals who favor mortal ways
  • Mouthy, rude childer
  • Those afraid to get their hands dirty
  • Topor
  • Wanting what cannot be
  • Hunger


Cannot Imagine Eternity Without: Nothing Compares to

  • The Hunt & Kill
  • The Moon
  • Blood
  • Tasting you


Fears: Oh no you dont!

  • Being mortal again
  • Being powerless
  • Crypt being sealed


Loathes: Symptoms of Failure

  • Deceit
  • Lack of Motivation
  • Kill & Waste
  • Ghetto Rats
  • Transparent Social Climbers
  • Backstabbing
  • Changing name to hide
  • Those who dodge or run from a fight
  • Empty bank accounts
  • Pires who borrow and dont pay back
  • Lovers who lack creativity/Adventure
  • Dead & buried who rise
  • Drama Seeking Chaos Creators
  • Crying,Whining,Pouting
  • Blood holders
  • Those who are handed what they want
  • Submission
  • Temper tantrums



Strengths: Hear Ye!

  • Articulate
  • Ghetto-free since city entrance
  • Able to buy & replace own weapons
  • Indulgent & Charming
  • Not afraid of the dark
  • Tastes sinfully good
  • Bakes one hell of a War Cake
  • More entertaining than Cirque du Soleil
  • Likes top & bottom
  • Can appease those in the middle
  • Displacement Master
  • Sense of Humor
  • Receptive to what she wants to hear
  • Survived OI Catacombs
  • Really is a vampire
  • Doesn't know how to quit
  • Slow to anger
  • Believes size doesn't matter


Weakness: Hit Me With Your Best Shot

  • No-holds-barred spanking
  • Losing a fight
  • Sexual Appetite
  • Fresh Blood
  • Full Moon
  • Holy Water
  • Garlic
  • A kiss to die for
  • Dark dominance
  • Surprise visits
  • Suspense
  • Masks
  • Art of seduction
  • Strong, self sufficient slaves


Darkest Indulgence:

  • Blood baths beneath a full blue moon
  • Bubble Baths & Cake Baking during war
  • Playing with her meal
  • Freedom of speech












Battle Stats

 
Samanthaknife.jpg
Mean eyes.jpg
Gothic-comment-tag-00151.jpg
FemaleAssassin Samantha.jpg
Laetitia casta02.jpg
Sam shadowsword.jpg
Samanthadawnnew2.jpg
Vampire-in-blood.jpg
Samantha Bloodsword.jpg
68.jpg
Rolling stone final.jpg
Wars: 6


Wars Won: 4

Kill Shots: 11+


Assisted Kills: 45+


Vampires Attacked: 171


Estimated known Weapons Used: 1.8 Million Coins


Estimated Blood Necroed: 2.5 Million (100,000 pints+) Adopts No necro policy after last zeroing.

Highest Blood Obtained: 40,000 pints

  • Blood Demon


Times in Torpor: 3

  • First zero By Ygg & RoR (6-16-08)
  • CoB attacked weeks after first zeroing (10-8-08)
  • Hells Angels attacked and used SoD and DA. (6-6-10)


Clan(s) Joined: 2

  • Ordo Illuminati
  • Hells Angels


Catacombs:

  • Ordo Illuminati


Sires: 7

  • Majica
  • Aarkan
  • Lord Galamushi
  • Miranda Dawn
  • msmith
  • Hells Gate
  • Vermathrax-rex


Robs: Big


Mortal History

(As taken from the Journals of Samantha Dawn)
The Sojourn

Fall 2010

The Sojourn

Anguish & 53rd

RavenBlack City



I walk through the last blocks of the city. A place that is not home but one that is a collective demonstration of all that I take leave of by choice. I hold my hands over what has been torn and keep my eyes focused on the path ahead. Rounding a corner and no longer in sight, my eyes warm into soft emerald green. My nose flares delicately and my lips separate stroking in the blood from my lips. I relax my neck and unfold my bloody hands from my chest. Air hits the open wounds and a seething hiss escapes my mouth. I raise my hand clasping the scroll that will deliver me home. A razor sharp nail slices the seal.

My travel transcends a recognition of time or space. I think and there I am. I have only a moment to absorb the feeling of particles battling to move through me, bouncing against me and demanding to be let in, to be taken with. Each one a piece of a shattered soul that once had a promise, a hope for what I have achieved. I leave it all in the distance behind me.

I exhale and feel the pulsing of recognition, the scent of my lair and I tighten my jaw slowing the speed of travel until I effortlessly land on my feet on the stone balcony. The Sojourn is a relief to arrive to. I absorb the pain crawling my body. A thousand forms to travel in and I chose this one for no particular reason. Next time it will no doubt be different. For the moment I feel the presence of Cheri and know its time to conform and all returns to what one would expect from Samantha Dawn.
Ouch!


Making my way down the stone spiral stairs I find the large room where I keep my weapons and ancient remedies for what temporarily weakens me. A stainless steel vault holds the potions and the books handed down for over a hundred centuries in my family. I protect them with my blood and today is nothing new.

I cover my shoulder where it gapes open. I feel my eyes glow again in a brilliant amber from the discomfort I am all too accustomed to. I push the code into the key pad that asks for a retinal scan. I lean in pulling my reckless hair into a fist at the back of my neck. The doors release with a hiss of pressure being expelled and the clink of the steel bars retracting echoes through the room. I waste no time reaching into a side door next to the sacred heirlooms and retrieve one of the hundreds of packets of blood that I keep for emergencies if the favored blood slave, Cheri, is out in the rolling swan bus following orders.

I move to the stainless steel counter that is cold and intimidating in its crude lack of conformity to the rest of the dark colored surroundings. I drop the bag of sustenance on the spotless surface and grab the spray hose above me. With a push of the faucet below, hot water jets into the wounds and my neck pulses at the burn. It never changes. Eternity vows it will always be a endless cycle of the same.

In ribbons the crimson flows effortlessly, spinning faster downward to its demise. I blink hard and fast to escape the memories of what I once was, before I came to be the creature I am. With a curse to every god known to man and the demons that taunt them, I feel my fangs lengthen at the intense scent of blood and the burn of it flowing down the drain, lost below. The heat flows over my shoulder and I gasp surrendering to the flashbacks of another time. A time when an oblivious female mortal named Fredrika had no idea her perfect world was going to come crashing down around her.


View from Tabor Castle Balcony

1890

Lyuta
Central Carpathian Mountain Region



Summer solstice begins and the Von Veltheim Tabor blood line is at a dead end. Any blue blood or commoner could tell you that. It is the talk of both peasant farmers and nobles. You cannot find another couple that is so loved by their kingdom. Both the Count & Countess are on the minds and in the prayers of people near and far. They are seven years husband and wife and still no blessing of a child to take hold of the future. It is looking bleak as the couple retreats into their private chambers of the castle unannounced and dismiss their large staff the last week of May. June arrives and the last remaining staff member is escorted by the Count through the Tabor Castle Gates. For the first time in history the castle is inaccessible to the beloved kingdom surrounding it.

Rumors did not take long to spread. It was heard that the couple did not want to share their shame any longer with their kingdom. The truth was hard enough to bare without having to see their failure and obvious demise gaining in the eyes of their loyal subjects. Just as the snow fall had reached knee deep a dark figure was seen pushing the castle gates open. A relieved sea of people rushed in and again the castle was bustling with merriment.

Fredrika Von Veltheim Tabors first breath was supposedly witnessed in December of 1890. It was said with the second breath she melted into the bosom of her mother, a reclusive and previously thought barren countess. Countess Ruxandra Von Veltheim Tabor cried at the arrival of her long awaited first child. This is where their enchanted yet fractured fairytale innocently begins.

Fredrika was said to be petite, milky white in complexion and blessed with the color of blush roses blooming across her cherub-like dimpled cheeks. What a perfect and promising vision she was to the longing Von Veltheim Tabor eyes. Silken hair in striking wisps of strawberry blonde framed her fawn eyes. Her hands were complimented with long fingers that immediately danced into the black tresses that spilled over Countess Von Veltheim Tabor’s bare shoulders.

Count Filip Von Veltheim Tabor stood proudly at the newborns graceful and tenacious entry to the world. He knew the child was of his blood because she never cried or flailed as the cold air hit her unprepared lungs. Fiery and tenacious, it was as if she had been breathing before she had arrived. The Count boasted as much when asked where the child had come from. This ominous observation was the first hint of a much darker truth.

Fredrika wanted for nothing and had no concept of being denied any whim. Everything was attainable with the right look to her mother or father and a batting of her natural emerald-green eyes. She was their only child and thought heaven was the beautiful reality she had grown accustomed to being there every morning when she woke.

The castle they lived in was huge and vast with solid walls of impenetrable stone, it was all one needed within. There was no need to leave. Fredrika delighted in each day bringing another discovery of what she had not known existed the day before. It was a paradise for the curious mind of a tenacious child.

1910

Lyuta
Filip & Ruxandra Von Veltheim Tabor
Baby
Teen


Fredrika found things to occupy her time in the years that followed. She developed naturally into a beautiful young woman. With that the day had come she was to be joined in marriage to another of equal status to her own family. Her father called her into a room she had never been permitted into and she found her eyes resting on the most beautiful man. Dark long hair, broad shoulders with sparkling silver eyes. She was caught off guard by such a sight before her.

The Count informed Fredrika that the man before her would be staying long enough for the two of them to become acquainted and then she would join him to his own land. Fredrika felt a growing burn within as the separation from all that she knew was beginning.

Later that evening the man walked Fredrika around the grounds giving indulgent accounts of all the beauty of his lands. Water, wildlife she had not dreamed of, flowers that were fragrant beyond the minds eye. Libraries of books carrying a wealth of knowledge on every one of her curiosities. Kitchens promised to be full of the finest cuisine, overseen by the top cooks of any land. She would have the largest staff at her disposal to do her bidding. Fredrika would be content in her role as his Queen as she would be touched often. Most promising of all, she would hardly be alone as he had secured his place as the largest kingdom within travel and feared by those most distant.

Fredrika was allowed a week to think about the proposal. The Count said that if she refused it would mean she may never find another suitor. This promising suitor was an offer that her family could not afford to refuse.

Fredrika took her time through that week learning about the man. He was smooth, captivating and alarmingly seductive in his methods. Within days he was passing from part of the castle to another without notice. Frequently she could feel him brushing his fingertips along her cheek from the other side of the room. At night while in bed she would feel a strange presence arousing parts of her she had never known existed. Each time it advanced in its odd effects only to disappear leaving her shaking, throbbing and on fire. She would bolt up in bed and gasp for mercy.

The last night before Fredrika’s decision was to be given, she took a walk on the grounds for what seemed to be the last time. She had decided to say yes. She felt light in her step and joyful about what was ahead in her future. That is when the sky began exploding above Fredrika. The dark sky penetrated with silver daggers of light to the howl of a tormented world as it shook. Fredrika ran for her life to the castle doors, hoping she would make it in time to be sheltered from all that was bursting around her. She struggled against the heavy towering door. She pounded and screamed. Finally she made her way in.
Fredrika Von Veltheim Tabor
Age 20
Countess Fredrika


Fredrika stood dripping wet to witness the brutal last seconds of her fathers life at the hands of the man she was to marry. A vision of his lifeless body draining its last drops inside a chalice held in the mans large shaking hand etched into the deepest core of her brain. She covered her mouth in horror and swallowed back the bile that bubbled up her throat. The murderer dropped the body of Count Filip Von Veltheim Tabor and drank the contents with loud savoring grunts. Fredrika stepped back into the shadows and tried to stay conscious. That is the moment she heard a painful whimper.

Countess Ruxandra Von Veltheim Tabor was bound and gagged in a far corner of the room. The man removed the cup from his bloody lips and laughed at the sound she made. He announced himself the new King of the underworld. The Countess’ tears dropped into the stone around her feet. Fredrika’s eyes burned in unbearable sadness. Soon the drops sparkled like diamonds that evolved from each tear. She had never seen another cry nor cried on her own. Pain and suffering didn’t exist in Fredrika Von Veltheim Tabor’s perfect world. Not of course until that horrifying moment.
 
The murderers eyes raised in shock then narrowed venomously at the Countess.

“How does thy tears transform into precious gems, woman? Your King is gone and I have consumed his essence and all its power. I feel no pity for you, wench!” His voice vibrated its anger through each stone in the castle floor until it reached under Fredrika’s feet. He pointed his long finger at the Countess then waved it twice causing the gag to evaporate into the air. “Speak!”
“You have consumed the curse to forbid coveting thy essence. You have filled yourself with its curse, you murderer!” The Countess spat through the falling tears and ignored the diamonds that bounced around her shaking body. “You fool!”
“But that cannot be! It is he who was the vessel of the power of Shirdeanon. He was to be its source for transfer!” The man growled shaking the walls.
“Fool you are as always. It was never in him to begin with. Your greed deceived you.” The Countess laughed with wicked delight. Fredrika had never heard such a sound from the woman who raised her. “You shall pay and all your decedents carrying even one drop of your blood. It will be like poison running its course through any link to your wretched lineage.” She hissed, her eyes burned into a terrifying red.
“You filthy wench, you tricked me! You are the devil herself!” He cried fists clenched so tight that his skin turned white.
“You stupid fool. That man was a mere mortal. The vessel that carries the power is the last in its line and has no idea what is within. What you have just done will release its wrath on us all!” The Countess cried in a deep voice.
“What can have such power and yet be unaware? Defeat and anger would have exposed it by now. Loss, pain would have uncovered it. Those things are unable to be avoided.” The murderer clutched his stomach in pain.
“You have just released it, fool. Coming here in such deception just cursed us all to its wrath. The world is no longer safe from its furry. It had no idea what it was. We kept it out of fear…fear of this. Hell has just opened its gates and sealed all of our fates. You should have never come here. You have opened the Pandora’s box.” She pulled her arms apart and pointed a finger at the doubled over man. “Suffer. Squirm slowly. Burn over centuries. May you be the waste she rids the worlds of.”

Fredrika looked at the Countess as she spread her arms and raised them to meet over her head. In a soft chant the Countess uttered words Fredrika had never heard before. The ancient language flowed into her ears as she stood in the shadows shaking. The castle shook as Fredrika watched the Countess take a dagger from behind her back and put it to her own throat.

“Nooooo…” Her cry pierced the castle walls.

“Avenge our deaths, Fredrika. Your rightful parents left you to us. You are the last in your line. Protect it for eternity. We loved you as if you were our own.” The Countess swept the blade in a swift motion across her throat shooting her blood in a pool before falling face forward into it.
“It is you.” The murderer growled as his eyes landed on Fredrika.

Energy sliced through the space between Fredrika and the man that wore her fathers blood on his chin and clothing like a gluttonous scavenger. She felt the air turn cold as madness crawled up from the pain she could no longer make sense of. Her world was now nothing more than a pool of blood that the animal stood in. She reached for the wall and pulled down the ancient razor sharp long sword that her father used in early battles. It weighed comfortably in her right palm as her long fingers curled to hold it tight.

A sneer spread across the murderers sinister face. He welcomed her defiance at the death he had planned for her. She would be consumed as was the mortal Count. He dipped his head cautiously to the left in a mocking bow as he reached from his back and displayed an impressive sword that she immediately recognized as her fathers by its emerald centered pommel.

“I was willing to grant you some measure of mercy in a quick end before my feast, M’lady. I do admit it does stimulate the appetite when your meal fights its consumption.” He waved the tip of the sword back and forth taunting her to stand back.
“My father believed even a bastard deserved fair warning before you claimed his dying breath. Let this be yours. You shall only hold that sword of which you are unworthy as long as your mind is connected to that claw.” Fredrika showed no fear, no weakness. She was prepared to draw first and last blood.
“Aye, this shall be in my claw as it kisses the length of your flesh wide open head to your lovely royal toe. Now I am left to ask…are you ready to die, my succulent hors d'oeuvre?”
“May it serve you well in your final hour. Beware that sword shall rest deep into your pathetic spine and I shall find my vengeance in spinning it to its hilt to sever all that governs your evil core.”
“Never the gentleman. I shall not allow you to humor me any further. I believe the only weapon you have that truly is sharp at your disposal, wench, is your tongue. Save the attempts at delay.”





City History

2007


2008

2009

2010

  • January 7th- Opens the doors to the Bounty Hunter Program with Lord Galamushi.

2011

Personal tools
advertising