Ricky Prince

Nature:      Bravo   Demeanor:      Rebel   Willpower:


Clan:   City Gangrel   Generation:   12   Blood Pool:   11


Strength:   4    Charisma:   2    Perception:   3
Dexterity:   3    Manipulation:   2    Intelligence:   2
Stamina:   3    Appearance   2    Wits:   3


Alertness:   2 Animal Ken:   0 Academics:   1
Athletics:   2 Crafts:   0 Computer:   0
Brawl:   4 Drive:   1   Finance:   0
Dodge:   2 Etiquette:   1   Investigation:   2
Empathy:   0 Firearms:   2 Law:   1
Expression:   3 Melee:   0 Linguistics:   1
Intimidation:   2   Performance:   0 Medicine:   0
Leadership:   0   Security:   2 Occult:   0
Streetwise:   2 Stealth:   2 Politics:   1
Subterfuge:   2 Survival:   2 Science:   0



Auspex:   1   Celerity:   2   Fortitude:   1
Obfuscate:   1   Protean:   2    


Influence:   1   Generation:   1   Resources:   1


Vampire Lore:   3   Sabbat Lore:   3   Fire Dancing:      2


Merits Flaws
  Catlike Balance       Lunacy
  Acute Sense: Smell      

Auspex 1 gained through Diablerie of Tiffany Van Laurer on 6/6/05

Lores are based on the 6 points of Lores all PC's get.

DOB: 3/18/1952
DOE: 6/25/1979
Strength Specialty: Wiry

Resources: Ricky’s financial resources come entirely from what he scrapes from those he robs.

Influence: Ricky's Influence is Political, due to the contacts he still has with the FCEA, the Environmental Lobby Group he founded.

Animal Features: As a result of frenzy, Ricky suffers from pointed, wolf-like ears. His hair is sufficiently long enough that he doesn't usually have to work too hard to hide them; when working at the Concerto Club, he has his hair pulled back into a ponytail so that it will cover his ears. Also, his hands have fur on the back of them; he wears gloves when in New York to cover them. His feet are actually wolf paws; he covers them with boots with thick soles.  And finally, his nose has elongated, becoming more like a wolf's snout.

Caged fury rails behind the blue-green irises in this young man’s face. Maybe 23, 24 years old, with unruly golden-brown hair that ends midway down his neck and covering his ears, he walks with the moves of a predator, stalking his prey...whatever that may be. His face is oddly shaped...his nose is deformed, a bit longer and raised around the sides, almost like a wolf's snout.  He has a habit for wearing solid-color or band T-shirts, usually greens and reds or industrial and Goth metal, and a pair of torn. dirty jeans. A pair of fingerless gloves cover his hands. Animals tend to shy away from him, sensing his status at the top of the food chain combined with a sharper instinct then even they possess.

His hands are Ricky's preferred weapon.

He also has an Ithaca M37 Shotgun that he used to use for War Parties.
(Diff 6, Damage 8, Range 20, Rate 2, Clip 5+1, Conceal T)


New York isn’t an easy place to live. Case in point: Ricky Prince. Born Ricardo Prinqesa, he grew up among the Puerto Rican community of New York in the Bronx in the late 50’s and early 60’s. Growing up, Ricardo had it pretty good...despite being among the oppressed Hispanic community. His mother and father, Carmen and Fernando, both worked in the factory for Pynex, a company that produced film for medical equipment. It was hard work, but it made decent money for factory work, and Ricardo never lacked for anything he wanted within reason. All things considered, his life was moving along pretty good.

Then high school came, and the Prinqesa’s lives took a sudden downward turn. Carmen grew sick, and her health declined before Fernando or Ricky could do anything about it. By the time they got her in to see the doctor, she was diagnosed with a terminal case of cancer, caused by the unsafe chemicals Pynex used in their factories. She died within the year, and Fernando was diagnosed terminally as well. He lasted six months past the diagnosis. The lawsuit against Pynex was doomed from the start, with the company having several high-powered lawyers and the judge in their pocket. Ricardo didn’t get a dime for his parents’ deaths, which was about how much the two were worth in the company’s mind.

To say that Ricardo was devastated was an understatement. He dropped out of high school and refused help from Child Services, deciding instead to live with his aunt Beatriz. He went into a heavy depression. Why did they have to die? Why couldn’t he do anything about it? Was he going to die? All these questions plagued the young man, and he found himself slipping into suicidal thoughts. Only the actions of Beatriz prevented this, and with effort, she got him emotionally turned around. “Use it,” she told him. “Take all that negativity; turn it into fuel to keep going on. Don’t let your parents down.”

Ricky did turn the negativity into fuel, and he found a passion as he decided to make sure that no one else would suffer the way his parents did. He found himself a job, working as a bike messenger, and spent his free time volunteering for environmental groups. Calling himself Ricky Prince for easier name recognition, he spoke at protests of chemical companies, spreading the story of his parents at rally after rally. He eventually even formed his own environmental activist group, the Foundation for Corporate Environmental Accountability (FCEA). While the group was nothing more then a fringe group of the Greenpeace bandwagon of the early-to-mid 70’s, it did score headlines when it won an ACLU-backed lawsuit against Pynex Corporation in 1976 for the amount of carcinogens in the chemicals it used in its film. The money went into the Fernando & Carmen Prinqesa Fund, created by Ricky to provide for the community he lived in. He was well-liked in his community, and things were really looking up.

It really sucked, then, that the Sabbat came across him when it did.

To this day, Ricky doesn’t quite remember what happened. He was walking home from the office late one night, the last he remembered. Next he knew, he was coming out of frenzy, with several bullet wounds in him, most of the shovelheads around him dead, but the Camarilla scouting group gone as well. Apparently, he’d gone head to head with a weakened Gangrel and torn him limb from limb. This act immediately earned him status as a True Sabbat.

Ricky was placed in a pack known as the Children of the Abyss, a scouting pack of mostly Lasombra that patrolled around the city. As a junior member, he was given little respect and sent on most of the errands. His mind had been shattered at this point, and he found himself at the mercy of his Beast. It was a favorite tactic of his pack leader, a relatively young Lasombra by the name of Alejandro Delgado, to send Ricky alone into battle with ghouls and Camarilla Cainites, just to see if he’d make it out with his unlife and sanity intact. On several occasions, the young City Gangrel antitribu tried to destroy his ductus, only to find himself beaten senseless. Delgado loved to toy with the Gangrel, and to see if he could build the perfect killer out of him.

Well, the perfect killer, Ricky would never be. However, he honed his skills, and managed to keep hold on his rational mind with the help of a Country Gangrel antitribu nicknamed Aristotle. The older, less urban Gangrel brought Ricky onto the Path of the Feral Heart, then called the Path of Harmony. Ricky found adapting to the path somewhat difficult, but he eventually became comfortable with it. He got his fury at Delgado under control, and despite the Lasombra’s previous cruelty toward him, they learned to get along, at least until Alejandro and the Children of the Abyss were called to Miami in 1993. Ricky stayed behind with Alejandro’s permission, and joined Aristotle’s pack, the Jersey Devils, where he found himself finally comfortable within the sect. Aristotle allowed him to maintain ties to FCEA, though in a circumspect way, by making contact with its new head of operations and acting as an advisor to it. Ricky used FCEA to attack the companies of Camarilla vampires trying to sneak into the city.

In 1998, the Camarilla struck, and the Sabbat was unprepared for its full onslaught. Ricky and the Jersey Devils caused many casualties, but in the end, Aristotle fell underneath the superior fighting forces of the Cam, and the Sabbat were driven back to New Jersey. The Devils were mostly gone, either killed in battle or fled for other parts of the country. Ricky was without a pack again, but at least things were looking up. Archbishop Polonia would certainly get allies, and the Sabbat would retake the city from the pawns of the Antediluvians.

Or not. Polonia moved to Atlanta, and Kras replaced him. Then Kras died at the hands of some shifter, and instead of declaring war on the murderous beasts, the Sabbat settled with them...SETTLED! Like it was some kind of fuckin’ lawsuit! Ricky couldn’t believe it. The next Archbishop was promising, but infernalism charges, leveled by Ricky’s old ductus Alejandro, returned from Miami and now a Bishop, killed those chances. Now, Ricky has found himself part of the pack run by the Brujah Tomi Nakamura. He’s also working at the Concerto Club as security, alongside three of his fellow Sabbat, and working for Kras’s old ghoul, Karlos Basaolto. He still has FCEA to use to attack Camarilla holdings, if necessary, a fact few within the Sabbat know of besides Alejandro. Things are looking up...and this will certainly be interesting times, he’s decided.

And fun.