My name is Frankie, but my 'friends' call me Gabrielle, its a long story only some of you will have the opportunity to hear. Unfortunately that same story also is imbued with a curse, my curse. The curse of the abomination.......In any case, I must say I've enjoyed myself in the community and look forward to more excitement as time passes. I hale originally from Perujia, its located in northern italy, southeast of the triad mountain peaks of Mount Blanc, Mount Rosa and Mount Matterhorn. I've been in the states now for a long time but always look forward to going home to see my family. Ours is the only clan to have truely stood outside Kindred politics since it's inception, Clan Giovanni has a reputation that causes most fellow kindred to avoid us at all costs. Our taste for the morbid is something that even the Stuffy Venture and the Wild Brujah can agree is not natural. More fools they. We are the only clan that knows the joy of life, the dark twilight of unlife and the bitter ashes of true death. Founded in during the Dark Ages and coming to ascendance in the Renaissance the Family of Giovanni has since grown to include several other minor families. We are now stronger than we have ever been, while all around us disintergrate into dust. If, as has been foretold, the Final Nights are upon us then be glad that you are a member of the one Clan truely prepared to see these times and survive, even prosper. This website is a good start, for it contains information that evey young don-to-be needs to know and to take to his no-longer beating heart. We are more widely spread and in more positions of power than all the others know. We will complete our obkectives - and they are not what the other Kindred think they are. To be of the Giovanni requires a certain... fortitude. Beset upon all sides by interlopers and would be assassins we must work towards our ultimate objective - the rending of the shroud. Fortunately our esteemed clan head Augustus lets us do anything that we think may further the clan. We could spend our unlives in study of the intricacies of death... or we could be a corporate raider. It is immaterial - all that matters is that our work is to the betterment of our family.
Basta cosi?
Podría parecer que la vivencia de Isabel refleja la historia de la familia Giovanni con desagradable exactitud. Desde una temprana edad, Isabel se encontró sumergida en la aborrecible subcultura del clan. Aun como mortal, Isabel aprendió los horribles secretos de su familia - e incluso tomo parte en alguna ocasión -. Mientras su moralidad corrupta, su ascenso en poder, y el haber dado a luz al hijo de su hermano, le habían ganado la atención de los Antiguos Giovanni. Cuando tenía poco más de 20 años, Isabel se convirtió en ghoul y saboreó el poder que daba la vitae de los Malditos. Como correspondía a la época no fue instruida individualmente, sin embargo, en especial en la Italia rural y con respecto a mujeres. De esta forma a Isabel le llevó dos décadas convencer a su domitor de que ella estaba lista para el Abrazo. De hecho, entre los Giovanni tales cosas no son frecuentemente solicitadas por el posible chiquillo, pero algunas veces es decidido por aprobación de los Antiguos. Ninguna habilidad de Isabel con la Nigromancia fue tan buena como su destreza en la diplomacia, los Antiguos permitieron que un Vástago Giovanni trajera a Isabel a la Maldición. Desde su Abrazo, Isabel ha sido una portavoz para el clan, y otra vez refleja el aire de misterio y suspicacia con el cual los forasteros ven a los Nigromantes. Los rumores y las depravaciones exageradas viajan en su estela - se dice que ella puede alimentarse solamente de las cabezas cortadas de sus recipientes, que tiene relaciones sexuales con aquellos de quienes se alimenta, que tiene multitud de fantasmas capturados atrapados en su propio corazón muerto y que su mordisco porta la Peste Negra o un azote médico más moderno.
En medio de estos cotilleos, Isabel sonríe y se limita a sus negocios. En muchos los casos, tal reputación la sirven bien, pues la diplomacia es más fácil con aquellos que ya están asustados. Isabel ahora contesta directamente a un grupo de Antiguos, trabaja como enlace entre los Giovanni y el mundo exterior. Es un papel desagradecido, eso seguro, y uno cargado de peligro, pero la fuerte voluntad de Isabel y el sentido del deber a la familia guardan los intereses de los Giovanni cerca de su corazón. Ella mantiene una cómoda no-vida, uniforme en estas noches modernas, y considera sus variadas tareas y tratados para ser una parte qué le ayude a hacer eso posible.
You are The Magician. The Magician is the ultimatemasculine achiever. You act as a lighteningrod, drawing power to you and utilizing it.You are never afraid to act. You know what isright and how to achieve it. Sometimes theresults of your actions appear magical. Youfocus with single-mindedness. You are TheMagician, act and act now.
Which Tarot Card are You?
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Nasty Evil: You are the unpleasant evil, the evilthat sets orphanages on fire because the kidswere making too much racket. When you finddispleasure, you're sure to share it witheveryone in earshot. You've crossed straightfrom beautiful seductress evil to old hag evil.That's okay, though. Someone has to build thosegingerbread houses.
What Type of Evil are You?
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Legardored is your Vampire name.
You are one hell of an insane Vampire. Anyone whomesses with you is out of their minds.
What is your Vampire name?
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Take the quiz: "What Kind of Demon are you?"Fatesyou alter destiny, you asshole! It's not nice to mess with others fate!
Take the quiz: "Exquiset Forms of Pain"
Frozen ImmortalityFrozen at your current age, unable to feel, or have sensations. It is a horrible fate.... the worst you might think.
Take the quiz: "What vampire would you be?"
Vampire of Seduction Who say's killing cant be fun? As lovely as you are, you must be the Love god/ess of Vampires everywere. The opposite as well as the same sex are overwhelmed by you. You play with their senses before you puncture to the death.
You are Horus. You are tough and strong. As saidmany times before, you have no tolerance forweaklings and cowards. Don't judge people forhow strong they are...you could be missing outon some great friendships!
Which Egyptian God Are You?
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skull and crossbones
fuck the mainsteam - who needs them anyways?
what kind of tattoo should you have????
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Giovanni
What Vampire Clan Are You?
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~Poetry section~
What a skeletal wreck of a man this is, translucent flesh and feeble bones, the kind of temple where the whores and villains try to tempt the holistic tones. Running rampant with free thought to free form in the free and clear, and the matters at hand are shelled out like lint at the laundry mat to shift our focus from the bigger better now. We all have a little sin that needs venting, virtues for the rending and laws and systems and stems that were ripped from the branches of office, do you know what your past entails? Way down inside your altruistical lore, the value of a summer spent and a winter earned. For the rest of them there is always sunday, the day of the week that wreaks of rest but all we do is catch our breath so we can wade naked into the bloody pool and place our hands on the big black book to watch the knives zig zag between our aching fingers. A vacation is a count down...T-minus your life and counting and time to drag your tongue across the sugar cube and hope you get a taste. What the hell is all this for? What is going on? i could go on and on but lets move on shall we...say you're me and I'm you and they all watch the things we do and like a smack of spite they threw me down the stairs again, havent felt like this in years. The great magnet of malicious magnanimous refuse, let me go and plunge me into the dead spot again. Thats where you go when there's no one else around and there was really never anyone there to begin with now was there? Sanctimony is pretentious, dastardly bastards with their thumb on the pulse and a finger on the trigger. Classified my ass, thats a secret and you know it. Government is another word for 'better then you'. Its like ice but no pick, a murder charge that wont stick, its like a whole other world where you can smell the food but you cant touch the silverware. What luck, fascism you can vote for, isnt that sweet. And we're all going to die some day because thats the american way, and I've drank to much and said too little when you're duck-taped in the middle, say a prayer, save faith, get yourself together and see whats happening. I'm sorry I can go on and on but its time to move on so remember, you're a wreck, an accident. Forget the freak, you're just nature. Keep the gun oiled and the trigger clean, and shit, snort, and blaspheem and let the heads cool and the engine run, because in the end everything we do, is just everything we've done.
(Deepest Apologies.....Corey Taylor)
Little feet patter down the stairs in pitch black night, it was a nightmare. Warm bed greets me with slumbering bodies of mother and father. Solidly there, breathing evenly, peacefully. It was a nightmare. That was then, glaring LEDs greet my eyes in the night....5:17 in red. I look up into the cold place of darkness, alone in my cold bed and remember the raindrops hitting my skylight are hailstones the size of golfballs hitting my chest, landing on my breast, melting slowly, ice water flowing down over my heart, freezing my ribs. No slumbering bodies, no breathing, no warmth, its cold....my feet are big, and this nightmare is real.
Beginning again, the thought pounded through my head, trapped all alone, craving vengeance and justice. Keep me down, keep me down (you thought you could), open me. Six months in you tightened your grip around me. I could not breath, the blue swelled inside of me. Wanting only which destroyed me, you 'love?' (a torturous enslavement) webs of fear, mistrust, lies and deceit are all you weaved about my feet. A year and half pass, you shift your glance, a weak attempt to break me, deliverance, I dont look back.....
Beginning Again
This is not a poem
It is not po et ic
It doesnt sing
It doesnt DaNcE
It doesnt s...l...i...d...e
off the tongue like melting cubes, of, ice
It is an echo of my love and hate
existential emotional states
checks and mates
forgotten faith
in these united states
and all the games in which
I par ti ci pate.
Even on cold mornings the clothes go out on the line , steaming baskets carried out the porches, lawns, fire escapes. T-shirts tached up at the hem, arms thrown up in celebration, miles of sheets, stockings swaying. There is a hopefulness in that gesture, our cleanliness on display despite the cars passing, the dirt rising. Everything undoes itself: a house is built, it deteriorates, sinks into a slow decay instantly, we are born, we erode our own lives, but still....there is this hope. Its why we save things, a kind of desperate need to hold life together despite the things that fail, that undo themselves daily.
