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Sally Fontenot

Fontenot Mansion

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Description

Pale white eyes stare outward in an intense gaze that never seems to blink, accented by black eyeliner and soft black eyebrows curved in an inquisitive expression, serving to contrast in such a way as to seem more like white marble painted black.  A narrow nose curves its way from between her eyes down to her sensual, pouty lips, dyed in a black that matches her eyeliner in perfect hue, hiding any possible show of a more organic color.  High cheekbones and narrow chin give her face an angular shape, most of which is offset by the spiraling curls of inky black hair that pour from the back of her head past her shoulders and is divide by three evenly spaced war braids, each nearly three inches apart.  Her skin is chalk white, stretched over a leanly muscled frame of supple curves, with the exception of her rounded hips and breasts, betraying her adulthood.

Background

Sally's father moved to Dallas with her from New Orleans when she was ten due to the relocation of his business.  Now 20, she is in college at a local university.  Her major keeps changing, having been Organic Chemistry, then Microbiology, and is currently Archaeology.  Her minor in the Occult centers around the darker superstitions, namely things like mummification, demonology, vampirology, werewolves, ghosts, and anything that goes bump in the night...a pursuit generally scoffed at by her peers.

As for her personality, she tends to be a bit carefree and independent, having the funds to stay in school as long as she wishes.  She is an eccentric, dressing and acting like the typical Goth and frequenting the clubs with her small clique of friends.  She has gained a position in life so far that would please most, but feels that there is something missing.

Vampire the Masquerade

Name:

Sally Fontenot

Nature:

Thrill-Seeker

Generation:

9th

Player:

Tabitha

Demeanor:

Deviant

Haven:

Fontenot Mansion

Chronicle:

Dallas By Night

Clan:

Gangrel

Concept:

University Student

Attributes

Physical

Social

Mental

Strength:

X X O O O

Charisma:

X X O O O

Perception:

X X X O O

Dexterity:

X X O O O

Manipulation:

X X X O O

Intelligence:

X X X O O

Stamina:

X X X O O

Appearance:

X X X X X

Wits:

X X X O O

Abilities

Talents

Skills

Abilities

Alertness

O O O O O

Animal Ken

O O O O O

Academics:

X X X O O

Athletics

O O O O O

Crafts

O O O O O

Computer:

O O O O O

Brawl:

X X X X O

Drive:

X X O O O

Finance

O O O O O

Intimidation:

X X O O O

Performance:

X X X O O

Medicine

X O O O O

Leadership:

O O O O O

Security

O O O O O

Occult

X X X O O

Streetwise:

X O O O O

Stealth:

X O O O O

Politics:

O O O O O

Subturfuge:

X X O O O

Survival

X O O O O

Science

X X X O O

Advantages

Disciplines

Backgrounds

Merits & Flaws

 Fortitude

 XXX

Allies

X O O O O

Pitiable

 Animalism

 X

Resources

X X X O O

Mansion

 Protean

 XX

Contacts

X O O O O

Virtues

Humanity:

X X X X X X X O O O

Conscience:

X X X O O

Willpower:

X X X X X X O O O O

Self-Control:

X X X O O

Blood pool:

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X 

Courage:

X X X X X

Introduction

The dark, empty mansion loomed on the hill like a stoic sentinel to the passage of time, the indifferent, black clouds drifting across the blacker sky as the only other sign of movement was an automatic garage door on its lowest level, gaping open for the sleek black Oldsmobile like a waiting maw.

Pulling into the garage, the car hisses to a stop as its sole occupant emerges from its driver door, her slender form composed solely of shades of black and white, as if she had emerged from some 1930's silent movie into the world of Technicolor.  Toting an oversized duffle bag and a backpack, she snaps the car door shut and taps the garage door button, activating the synthetic whir of machinery that eventually seals shut the door.

Opening the ornate door, the form flips on the soft white lights of her home as she peruses the mail, all addressed to Sally Fontenot. "All junk", she muses, tossing the heralds of greedy mercantilism and false opportunity into the trashcan of her kitchen as she continues on her way through the dark corridors of her castle, illuminating her way as she traverses the spacious dining room and den until she arrives at the foyer, ascending the sweeping staircase to the less public areas of her sanctum.

As the young woman reaches her door, she plucks several post-it notes from the maids and her butler, each one detailing some trivial item that was moved that they assumed might interest her enough to be informed of its relocation.  Her black lips widened into a Cheshire grin as she twists the doorknob to her room and pushes open the entrance.  Flipping on several switches, a myriad of well-placed lights flare to life like probing, blinkless eyes, a precise match to her own pale white, blinkless stare.  She drops her bags and shuts the door, peeling off her black clothing with a carelessness of sincere relief, pulling out a long nightshirt and underwear as she adorns herself with bedwear, taking a deep breath as her eyes scan the room for her discarded bags.  The screech of the backpack's zipper cuts the silence as she peruses its contents with chalk white fingers until she produces a videotape and a leatherbound book of apparent venerability, taking them to her wide, waiting canopy bed and sprawling across its expanse.

Brushing the black curls from her face, she slips videotape into her vcr and punches buttons on the television as she cracks open the old text with the cracking sound of stale leather as her television flickered to life with the movie.  She flipped through the book, page by page, as she spliced her attention between the movie and the words, equally enraptured by their common subject matter...

"In every culture, in every part of the world, there have arisen one  legend or another revolving around beasts of the night, creatures that thrive off the blood of human beings, and the dead rising from their graves.  Though they vary widely, some common denominators exist..."

Easily skimming the text, she wondered if she would find any new morsel of information that escaped account in other tomes, though she doubted she would.  Her attention was drawn to the television as Keanu Reeves and some Texan somehow landed the lucky shots to kill the undead knight of the fallen order of the dragon, allowing for Wynona Ryder to slay the slavic demigod.  She shook her head in disgust.  The good guys always won, even though the bad guys had better theme music, smarter strategies, cooler music, and more interesting attitudes.  She wished, just once, that she could see a vampire movie where "bad boys" actually vanquished the forces of light.  Would it destroy some people's sense of self-righteousness?  That could be a good thing.

Her thoughts drifted to the idea of jumping from rooftop to rooftop like Brandon Lee, armored with marbled skin and deathwish fearlessness, but found that the process of having her fluids imbibed was more erotic to her than any sense of normal sexual relation.  Did the murder of these individuals really seem necessary?  To her it seemed ludicrous, as it was a waste of a good bloodbag, especially if both parties got off on it.  It must have been Hollywood's way of forcing the issue of good and evil to the viewer...

The floor of the mansion creaked with movement, snapping her out of her reverie.  She thought she had heard it earlier, but dismissed the notion, as the servants had all been sent home for the night.  She froze like a deer in oncoming headlights, wondering if she should call the police, until the doorknob slowly turned, causing her heart to pound in her chest...

The door slowly whined open as an elderly man peeked through.  Sighing in relief, she smiled.  "You scared the life out of me, Theodore.  I
thought you went to bed for the evening." 

Theodore smiled, replying in his stately British accent, "My apologies, Sally.  I have adjusted my schedule to fit your nocturnal lifestyle.  I hope you do not mind."

"I'm touched, Theodore.  But surely, you're up and about for some other reason?" Sally asked.

"Ahh, yes.  Your friend, I believe she said her name was Tabitha, was most adamant about my delivering to you the message of the invitation extended to you to join her at The Church on Saturday night.  She would not cease calling other...wise..." Theodore suddenly blanches as he notices that Sally is sitting half naked on her bed and turns his back walking to the closet to fetch her robe.  He backed away from the closet, nearly tripping over a discarded boot, as he handed Sally the robe with his eyes averted, evoking a girlish giggle from her as she donned it.

"Thank you, Theodore.  Any other messages?" Sally asked.

"Only ones for your father," Theodore answered quietly, darkening both his and Sally features with sadness.  "Most are old friends that are wondering if he is not hiding from them.  Should I explain his lack of presence?"

"I'm not sure what I'd tell them, Theodore...I mean, he just walked out. What if he comes back through the door right now?  I'll call them back and let them know that he is...missing.  Who knows, maybe he is with Mom now," she sighed.

"Well, I plan to retire for the eve, Sally.  Do dream well."

"You too, Theodore," Sally replied, as she delved back into her imaginary world of mummies, ghost, goblins, werewolves...and most of all...vampires.