Lucille Semingsworth

Concept: Neo-Noble               Nature: Judge            Demeanor: Director
Height: 5 foot, 10 inches.       Weight: 120 lbs.         Hair: Platinum Blonde
Eyes: Stormy hazel               Skin: Pale white         Actual Age: 656 years
Physical Age: 23 years           Undead Age without Torpor: 405 years

 Born in the year 1343, the third daughter of the Baron of Yorkshire was unique among those of her blood in that she was the star pupil of her family in the tutelage of politics, intrigue, and guile, absorbing her father's lessons with analytical abandon.  She held the title of Dame after having married Sir Bovire, a loyal knight of the Baron's army, at the tender age of 13.  She lived her life inflicting the cruelties common to the day without a care in the world as to the costs of such folly.

She spent her time using her gift for intrigue at her father and husband's behest, charming the visiting dignitaries while secretly analyzing their every move, much to the delight of her family.  Her childhood had been seperate from her sisters', as she learned the daily routines of womanhood while also learning everything the noblemen of her family did.  Jealousy ran rampant in her family as she excelled in all that she did, and respond she did with all the deadly subtlety her father's lessons had instilled in her.  After the unexplained deaths of two of her older brothers and a meek implication that there ->might<- be more should animosity continue toward her, she was left alone by her aggressors, who began to fear her with the crystal clarity that her contacts and connections demanded.  Little did she know that her political savvy would seal her fate forever.

The ancient eyes of Euripius were drawn to their squabbling when it first began, having been homesick for the beaureaucractic struggles of his native Roman Empire, and was drawn to Lillian as he watched with admiration at the skill with which she manipulated the assassins and servants unlucky enough to witness the acts of brutal vengeance.  She whet his appetite, and so he began to drink from her, until one night, shortly after her 23rd birthday, he clumsily drank his fill and drank her dead. Unwilling to allow her abilities to die with her, he imparted his eternal gift by the jagged scar in his neck, unwittingly letting her attempt to diablerize him as his offer was accepted.  Angrily he left, refusing to inform her of her new state of being as she lied there on the floor, incredulous and hungry from lack of blood. The Embrace has been bliss for her, but the feeling of hunger gnawed at her. She found food to now be revolting and set out into the nighttime cobblestone streets seeking her answers.

Still unaware of her new power, Lillian was surrounded by a regal voice that began to guide her out of the city until she passed by the church and saw a woman about her age sweeping up for the night, a ward of the clergy that would likely have married at a late age and lead a happy life.  The voice warned her not to shed the blood of a servant of God, but she ignored the advice, drinking her fill of the poor commoner within the sacred halls of God, killing the woman carelessly even as the voice pleaded with her to stop.  It was then that her ethereal advisor abandoned her, but not before exacting the consequences of a vile life.

Nightmares of her past deeds subjected back upon her assaulted her soul from that morning on, amplified with each new evil act she added to the list.  Try as she might, there was no way to adjust to her daily horrors, each new eve revealing yet another facet of the curse she had so thrust upon herself.  It was not long before her sire returned, refusing to teach even the barest hint of vampiric existence to her as punishment for her attempted diablerie.  Lillian was instructed that she was to provide him with blood every night from her own neck, forcing her to feed from him in small draughts in order to bond her, so that he might rule Yorkshire through her, and her through her mortal family.  Those early times were a time of wary experimentation, as she learned each new lesson the hard way and served her new master with forced acceptance.

Euripius proved to be an ignorant, self-absorbed miscreant, whose only redeeming quality proved to be that his generation and age allowed for tight control over his new pawn, whom he abused with a carelessness born of the witless.  He had explained, on more than one occasion, that he had failed to dig Rome back out of the fall when he was embraced, and so would allow his new progeny the incentive of staying alive if she could avoid the mistakes he made.  All in all, he existed merely to enjoy the bounty she provided as the years passed, manipulating her descendants closely and watching with wonder as Yorkshire flourished and prospered, moving forward and leaving her behind.

Having taken up residence in a secret chamber in the dungeons beneath Yorkshire Castle, Lillian provided for the lackadaisacal Euripius for well over a century. It was then that turmoil gripped Central Europe, stirring countless elders in the climactic struggle known as the Anarch Revolt, in which young clashed with old for supremacy.  As Kindred fled to England, Euripius sought to aid old comrades in the battles that embroiled them against their childer.  Not trusting Lillian to remain loyal, he ordered her to stay in Yorkshire as he fearlessly rushed off to his death at the hands of an anarch in the year 1490.

The war, having ended three years later, formed a faction of still-rebellion anarchs named the Sabbat and the victorious elders named the Camarilla.  The newly formed sects strived to soldify their territories, and it was at this time that a Ventrue justicar named Montague finally pressured Lillian to join the sect in 1498, thereby helping seal their foothold upon England.

Centuries drifted by, and this Kindred carried on, drunk in her freedom from her tyrannical but idiotic sire.  She ignored the humanity that ebbed away from her, and on several occasions was sorely in danger of losing both sanity and conscience for the last time as the Beast sank its claws deeper inside, though each time she retained her last vestiges of mortal clarity by a single fingernail, ready to slip off the abyss forever.  Unfortunately, the choice would be wrenched from her hands.

In the year 1763, a Jesuit priest named St.John Turner interrogated numerous citizens in Yorkshire in a ruthless attempt to prove the existence of the super- natural in order to facilitate a new Inquisition.  The mentally unstable clergyman eventually found and staked Lillian, now named Lucille, in her secret chamber and proceeded to torture and violate her helpless form, an act that was ceased only by the approach of guards that chased down and eventually executed him for mass murder. As a result of his hasty flight, he let the secret chamber close behind him, an act that unintentionally preserved the Masquerade and Lucille's unlife.  She layed there, prone by the stake, as the blood tears drained the life from her body and ushered her even quicker into torpor, where the nightmares assaulted her without any seeming respite, and would continue to do so for nearly two more centuries.

An excavation site in the dungeons of Yorkshire uncovered a remarkably "preserved" young woman in 1991.  Thinking that his friends had devised yet another prank, the hapless archeologist pulled out the stake and became the newly-revived Lucille's first meal in the modern age.  She wandered out of the dungeon wearing the t attered rags that had once been a richly-tailored dress, unaccosted by visitors who believed she was merely one of the historical re-enactors.  The world she had awakened into was nearly as mortifying as her dreamworld, the magickal technology threatening to overload her senses as she struggled to adjust.  But the years of torment had given her new strength, and she let the sensations bombard her in the real world the way they did in the ethereal, and she gradually assimilated into the new existence.  The Kindred of modern Yorkshire were curt and haughty, making it very clear that she was neither welcome nor wanted, suggested that she find a new territory.  And so, for the first time in her life, Lucille embarked on a sojourn into the world, taking her opprtunity to explore every corner of the globe.  Eventually, she came to rest in Dallas, where she presented herself to Hanson Blake and remained, since this city had only had one prince and proved more stable than most locales.

She immediately set to work on rebuilding her investments and exploring the world of technology, scrambling to catch up with the younger Kindred who had been graced with the fortune of being born in the eras of change.  She has secured a loft in the Deep Ellum district and hunts in the seediest areas of metro Dallas, feeding solely upon the mortal women that are the age she was upon death, living the nostalgia of young living blood surging through her veins once more with every feeding.  Her motivation is the desire to rule again, and so she bides her time, watching the politics of the city and the antics of these modern Kindred.

But something has changed about her, something she is only dimly aware of. The centuries of torment have developed within her a desire to do the right thing.  Not because she expects redemption or wishes to preserve her humanitas, as those aspects are believed by her to have been discarded in the deepest recesses of her soul long ago.  Her reasons for doing what she feels is right is simply for its own end, an alien motivation that she follows with uncertainty as she rushes headlong into the future.