Vampire: The Porphyry Rictus
the prince of terror
Annie Lee is small, not five feet tall. Blonde ringlets cascade in never-ending curls down her shoulders, and her skin, porcelain white with death, seems smooth and fresh and young despite her age. Underneath her skin, visible through holes and tears in it, lies black and foul decay, the mark of her Nosferatu heritage. The final bedeckment of her attire is a black wooden cross which she wears at all times.
Contrasting with her small form and the tokens and charms of youth with which she dresses herself, Annie is old. Older than Milwaukee, and older than America. Her story, and that of her brother, Jonathon Lee, is a closely guarded secret. Annie had the last Kindred to ask about her past, and the origins of her feud with her brother, buried in the concrete of the new railroad terminal downtown.
Annie, with her seneschal Parker Doughurst, she rules the East Side with an unyielding whip. All covenants are banned, and to be a member of a covenant is a crime punishable by the Final Death. Her interpretations of the traditions locate maximum authority within her own person. No Kindred on the East Side is allowed to embrace anyone except for her, and so her mewling, fetid, whining brood of childer grows, and is spoiled by their mother’s attentions.
Rumors persist, though no one has been so foolish to ask, that the other reason she keeps such a large brood of childer, is that she is so old she must now feed on the vitae of other Kindred. The Blood Bond would explain why she is so indulgent of them, and they are so protective of her.