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Kamble Gaines
| Race |
Vampire |
| Splat |
Gangrel |
| Title |
Sherrif |
Physical Description
An understated man, but something of a chameleon; his clothing changes depending on his surroundings. He has one "good" suit that sees him for formal occaisions. He is most commonly seen in a plain brown suit and tan raincoat. He is almost unmarred by the Beast, his noticeably unnattractive face going some to hide the fact that his nose is spread in a feline fashion, and his ears are slightly pointed. His eyes are brown, and his skin is still somewhat dark, although it is a mediterranean complexion, and is small as you might expect of someone from this region.
Personality
He is quiet, but not shy. Merely understated. He has a tendency to speak quietly, rather than force himself on others. His polite veneer hides a sharp temper, and a tendency to binge when something isn't going his way. He has a horrible soft-spot for children which has only caused him grief both in life and death, and he is nothing if not true to his word.
Story
When he was 18, he'd joined the police force. He'd always wanted to be a detective like his dad had been, but like his father (who was killed on duty), it was doomed from the beginning. He spent four years in a uniform, and just when things were looking good towards him getting his detective's shield, things went real bad. He was on his beat one evening with his partner when they came on a house fire which had apparently just started-- or just been ignored-- but that didn't make it any less deadly. After four years, he knew his beat well. He knew the family that lived there. They were good people. He was a working man, and she was a school teacher. She liked working because it kept her close to their daughter-- who was 6.
His partner called in the fire, but Kamble saw movement inside and knew the family was still in there. Without thinking, he ran in after them. The husband was passed out near the front door. It looked like he was going for the upstairs room but didn't make it. Kamble dragged him out then went back in. The mother was in the bedroom with the little girl upstairs. Neither was conscious, so he took the little girl out first. His partner tried to stop him from going back for the mother, but it was useless. He ran back up the stairs and picked her up, but he as he reached the landing, he started to black out.
When he came to, he was in an ambulance with the sirens wailing. He couldn't get anyone to tell him what had happened-- he had a tube down his throat that wouldn't let him talk. When things finally calmed down, he found out that the little girl and husband were both in good condition, but he and the mother were in pretty bad shape. There'd been a lot of smoke inhalation, and the possibility he'd damaged his lungs was pretty high. Over the next few months he was in and out of the hospital as was the mother. Three months after the fire, they were sharing a room in the hospital-- both with pneumonia. She didn't make it, and he watched as she spent her last days coughing, wheezing and crying with her husband and daughter.
Kamble on the other hand survived. When all was said and done though, a month from promotion, Kamble had lost 75% of his lung functionality. He was given two options-- take a desk job or quit. So, he quit. An old retired cop buddy of his had started an investigation firm a couple years earlier and offered to let him in as a partner. Less than a year later, he found out the man he'd saved killed himself. Apparently he wasn't able to get over the guilt of his own survival. It wasn't a totally foreign feeling to Kamble either. The little girl was tossed in the foster care system.
The firm was small-time with a run-down office, bad taste in suits and a tendency to drink heavily. Proctor died three years after Kamble joined the firm in a drive by shooting. There were occassional dry-spells, but all in all it turned over a nice, neat income. Modest, but workable. It all went wrong late one night when Kamble was on his way home from a seedy joint in Boston, Massacheusetts. He met a girl, who met a guy. Only she was all right in the wrong places. When she killed the man he knew his night would be a long one. He never realised just how long. He'd seen it before, those people. He'd convinced himself he'd dreamt it, but he wasn't sleeping this time.
It was then a voice told her to stop.
An English accent, mostly. But it was thickly bastardised by lots of travelling. A man stepped from the shadows, and this man was old. Twice Kamble's age, easily. He told the woman to go, but she wouldn't. The two started to fight, only the girl was no match for him. She was pinned easily, but in the struggle Kamble was knocked down. He came to some time later, with the old man standing over him. Kamble was told things, of what he was, and he knew his nightmare was only just starting. Regin Falls told him to get on his feet and clear off. He had to survive, and if he did then he could consider himself Regin's. Kamble didn't know what that meant, but time would soon tell him. Boston was in the middle of a war. Two rival factions of vampires were vying for control. Only it wasn't the typical Camarilla/Sabbat rivalry, this was intra-sect. Kamble learned the hard way, by being approached by both sides, that there was a lot going on he had not grasp of.
So he left Boston and started over in Gotham. It had been seven years since he'd been reborn. The girl who's life he saved somehow managed to find him. She was 20 now and had somehow managed not to be counted among the failures of the foster care system. She didn't have any place to go though, he still had a soft spot for her. He'd always felt it was his fault she'd lived and no one else had. A wise-man had once told him that if you saved a life, it became yours... or maybe it had been a fortune cookie. Either way, he felt obligated to take care of her, so he hired her as his secretary.
Kamble is most noted, on first introduction, for his impressive lineage which includes the Archon Regin Falls as his Sire, and the noted Methuselahs Duncan MacLean and Odin the Norse beyond him. In most circles it is Regin's activities that garner the most respect, but among the Elders of his Clan, his Grandsire and Great-Grandsire have their own stories to tell. Of course, Kamble only knows so much. Or so he says, anyway. He much prefers to make his own way and his own name in whatever society he ends up belonging to.
