• a man of many talents and master of none •
| original work | dishonored | wod & vtm |
| darkest dungeon | the witcher 2 | tes | dragon age |
This blog features art pieces I make mostly during free time. Be ready for piles of OC's, random and rare fanart and strange colour choices.
Sup, I am rhombedrum or 𝔇𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡, also known as плохо́вец.
commissions | requests | trades | collaborations — OPEN
links | tag navigation | commission info (tbd) | artist lore™ (ru) | about me
⟡ 𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝖆𝖒 𝕴? ⟡
⟡ Fjand or however you pronounce my nickname | he/him |
old enough to remember tumblr of 2010s and have several abandoned blogs | russian ⟡
artist, game designer, writer, man of many talents and master of none.
⟡ 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕾𝖙𝖚𝖋𝖋 ⟡
⟡ Ao3 | my writing mostly in russian ⟡
⟡ Telegram | мой домейн и основное убежище ⟡
⟡ Youtube| mostly shitposting ⟡
Be wary, ye, of feeble nerve,
or lads not seasoned yet!
I POST NSFW mayhaps, sometimes
and I shall mark it as such if I can
⟡ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖌™ 𝖎𝖓 𝕼𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ⟡
⟡ original works | table-top RPGs & classic RPGs | Dishonored | World of Darkness & Vampire The Masquerade | Darkest Dungeon | The Witcher (mostly The Witcher 2 though) | The Elder Scrolls | Dragon Age (we've been there for a while) ⟡
features art (sometimes), my writing (rarely), my original works (frequently), fanarts and fandom original characters (from time to time).
I also yap about games, gamedev and game design and other interests I have (almost never), rb my friend artist and stuff I like, endorse or support (always). the usual.
I post in my native language (russian) sometimes. It happens either when:
— I am too lazy to translate the sheer amount of symbols I may type to yap about stuff I like;
or:
— when my perfectionism wins and I find the text untranslatable™.
Bear with me here, or else I won't post at all.
Русскоязычным передаю нежнейший привет. Пиздец я официозно и высокопарно звучу на английском, ну ладно.
⟡ 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝕬𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝕸𝖊 ⟡
⟡ pagan | antifa, anarchist | queer ⟡
if you always wanted to know more about me...
Apart from art and games, my interests include, but are not limited to:
⟡ history and all things historical | that means anything concerning history, really
It is a passion of mine, and I use it fully in my worldbuilding.
⟡ occult, arcane and magic | that means not only history, but metaphysics, occult philosophies and practice, naturally
I am a practicing reconstruction-based norse pagan, or, rather, chaos heathen.
⟡ politics and political studies | no that doesn't mean I'd like to debate you on why anarchism is not utopic and unachievable, thank you very much
More than political studies I love systemic analysis (I am a game designer, indeed!) and theory of systems, so... I am, yes, very opinionated. Next question.
I also love to do thorough political analyses of fictional stories and characters.
Maybe I'll translate one I wrote about Iorweth from The Witcher 2 and anarchism, or just repost it as it is, in Russian, here (эх вот би не присесть за эту ссылку... anyways so).
I welcome all of ye, in my domain!
Please, touch anything you wish.
⟡ 𝕸𝖞 𝕺𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖘 ⟡
more about my original works at the dedicated page. shortened (lesser) version is under the cut.
⟡ My WoD and VTM ocs, chronicles and npcs ⟡
a GM for life, I sometimes do art of npcs, write lore stuff in-character for my players and etc. I also frequently make VtM OCs with @eirewinne.
It is important to say I prefer Revised(3d) and V20(4th) editions. I run my campaigns by mashing those two together.
I also use materials from 2nd edition and heavily reference KoTE as a lore-tying supplement between WoD lines.
⟡ Æskield Sørensen | vtm OC that used to be m!Tremere protagonist ⟡
I drew him a lot, like... Lots of a lot. There are yet no post about his background, but there certainly will be.
@eirewinne and I are currently working on transferring our boys into custom-written Berlin chronicle.
Stay tuned for the updates!
Here are some of the works with him, as well as those I made for VtM Ask back in 2021-2023, as well as shitposts:
last picture uses our collab with @eirewinne
⟡ Assorted Hong Kong stuff | featuring Oliver Thrace my beloved ⟡
once upon a time, I ran a Hong Kong twinshot in 1920s and oooh boy...
Now we have:
a pairing of an obscure canonical NPC (Oliver Thrace) and NPC from @caligariartworks Rome Chronicle (Callisto Giovanni)
a couple of kuei-jin OCs with @eirewinne
and...
A ton of shitposting
There's a series of drabbles on Oliver Thrace / Callisto Giovanni
but there's a catch — они на русском and I don't think anybody can translate that, not even me.
And there's also Liao John Zaie, my ehm деконструкторская выходка let's call it that and Taira Yuichiro, @eirewinne's kuei-jin OC.
Something something, I read KoTE, saw something there as a supplement for VtM beyond what's critiqued... And this happened.
They are boys doing boys stuff in 50s-70s Hong Kong. Nothing more to see there (lies).
last picture by @eirewinne
⟡ Москва Неспящая (Moscow Sleepless) | custom, reworked WoD Russia setting | political detective chronicle ⟡
About the game:
Of the Gathering of Beasts. Of the politics and harsh decisions true fervor demands you to make. Of being a chess piece in grossmeisters' hands. Of hope and fear for the fate — your own and of the world. Of opportunism and adaptability.
Moscow, 1990s-2000s. The new epoch is ushered — for the kindred as well.
Moscow of Tradesmen, Moscow Golden-Crowned, Moscow the Capital... Moscow by Night. The city of big politics, the city of cruel gambits.
There are too many players in this chess party.
#узники москвенцима
Из выступления Грица перед неонатами. Об отношении Анархов к Маскараду.
[отрывок транскрипции]
Ось як ето было. Пока якой-нибудь старэйшина отправляли свойих птэнцов на убой та сидэли у своем замке, те самые неонати згинали у муках под лучами солнцу. Мы, сородичи, всегда были разобщчени, всегда сами себи на уми. И за сим была и ести наша слабость. Щчо у Инквызицию, щчо опосле. Мы не могли сплотытися.
[конец отрывка]
Указания Вольги, архиепископа Шабаша. О Старом Клане Цимисхи.
Время не пришло. Не смейте делиться с воеводами тем, что позволено знать лишь братьям. В их землях будьте тише змеи в конском черепе, что умертвила Ольгерда Вещего. Слушайте, слушайте шепоты высоких стен, но свои уста сомкните. Позвольте мне умасливать их, править их страхом перед густой кровью.
⟡ Necklace of Kings, Weltenkette ⟡
made in collaboration with the author, @eirewinne
⟡ ttrpg universe & system ⟡
genres: grimdark | magical realism | weird fantasy | drama | dark realism
gameplay genres: detective | folk horror | mystical drama | adventure | political drama
Worldbuilding is done by @eirewinne and I occasionally help him with it. Mostly, I work on mechanics and gameplay systems. And also make and move some characters around.
Here I mostly feature art with Reiggradt the Undecaying and his partner, Ladislau.
second pic by @eirewinne
And obligatory shitposting:
⟡ Пряди Полотна (Strands of Tapestry) ⟡
my book (?) universe, potentially in collaboration with @eirewinne
I do not plan on translating it soon.
Оставь надежду, всяк сюда вошедший англичанин.
⟡ книжная (?) фентези вселенная ⟡
жанры: гримдарк | магический реализм | странное фентези
публикуется в сборнике на Ao3
Отрывок. Дидрик представляется Алгае.
Наконец, Алгая подала голос:
— Ты неплохо себя показал, Вербовщик.
— Полно тебе, вербовщик остался на постоялом дворе, — он показал белые зубы, — Сейчас мы с тобою скорее купчиха, да её наёмный клинок.
— И как мне тогда называть тебя? Ищейка?
Женщина переменила позу, оставляя поводья на роге седла. Её узкий, тёмный глаз пристально и надменно взирал сквозь облик Железного Перста.
Но лицо его было нечитаемо.
— А ты выбери имя, — он усмехнулся, — Я многие носил, всех уже не упомню.
— Любое? — Она фыркнула, — Известные мне тебе не к лицу.
— Не к лицу? Это что, не пойдут?
Железный Перст облизнул пересохшие губы, а затем выжидающе изогнул кустистую бровь.
— Такие просто нельзя заслужить, — она произнесла это будто бы не для него.
Взгляд Алгаи был безмерно далёк, чем-то даже печален. Минуя тракт и безграничную глубину небес, её око искало что-то вдали. Но не находило.
Железный Перст долго смотрел на неё. Ей на миг показалось, что на неё смотрит ворон. Изучает, скорее.
<...>
— Так ты хочешь знать, как меня величать?
Алгая дёрнула губой невпечатлённо:
— Ну? И как тебя величают обычно?
— Звать меня Дидриком. Получается, будем знакомы, Алгая из Лона Всех Рек?
Он не протянул ей руки. Да и она бы её не пожала.
— Дидриком? — Алгая хмыкнула.
Молчали они недолго. В какой-то момент женщина расхохоталась. Громко, истошно, запрокинув голову.
Железный Перст молча изучал что-то вдали.
— Не ты ли тот Дидрик, что подарил Ересиарху Двух Сестёр? — Смех стоял в её горле, — Дидрик, Одинокий Перст?
— Или Дидрик Безродный, — он переменил позу в седле, — Или Человек Без Лица, или Чёрная Медаль…
Он не продолжил. Оба знали, какое прозвище повисло в воздухе тишиной.
— Смотря кого спросишь, — закончил Дидрик, — Вот теперь-то ты меня знаешь.
— Врёшь.
— Твоя правда. Ты тоже мне незнакома, наследница Устья.
На том они и порешали.
Отрывок зарисовки от @eirewinne. На Удачу.
— Так як ты думаешь, чего я ему песенку наобещал? Оно мертвяку всяко приятнее, чем золото. А коль не по нраву — ебстись он в гузно ведьмы лысой. Воронье свое слово сказало, значит, дошел. А кто ж я такой буду, что б споры устраивать?
Мужчина обернулся на Венцеша, осадив мягко лошадь, и поправив подпругу.
— По меньшей мере, спутник Железного Перста. А по большей — мародер.
— Ой-й-й-х, станется тебе, Дидрик. Аль мне все, на суд Ересиархата сдаваться? Сдаюсь.
Человек вскинул руки, рассмеявшись. Медовая поросль волос заискрилась в лучах полуденного солнца.
Дидрик только фыркнул:
— Нужен ты больно Ересиархату. А вот мне еще сгодишься. Но если кто-то узнает, чем ты тут промышляешь…
— …Доказывать незаменимость изволю, как же-то иначе? Слух сюда, Медаль Черная…
Монетка звякнула у уха, когда Венцеш скользнул ближе. Играюще прокатилась по пястям в сечи шрамов, в воздух, и снова — в пальцах.
— …Слухай, что тебе Чертополох скажет. А дури я не говорю. То ж злотый-то непростой. Може под колесами телеги прокаженного он лежать-то не полежал, да в зубьях мертвого побывал. По одной сторонке — что солнце тебе. По другой — что месяц слепой. А они что? — Монету человек поднес к острому лицу, супротив карего глаза, — Верно-шь, сестрицы. А ты у нас уже двух “Сестриц” охомутал. Значит, на удачу.
Венцеш щелкнул ногтем, пустив золотой в полет. Дидрик словил на лету, и покрутил монету.
— Гладко стелешь, спору нет. Только что мне с нее? С удачей я и так под руку хожу. И где же ты это видел, чтобы золото мертвых удачу приносило?
— А это ты уж на меня оставь, Перст. Коль сказал — значит будет. Я-ха-а-ой…
И он снова обернулся к вязу, подбоченившись. Висельник все еще покачивался на ветру, незрячий.
okay im going to post this on tumbler as well cos i think its important for artists to know,
if you like having control over your oc never enter a official WOD art competition like the one they have announced recently
this is the big issue "Give Paradox Interactive a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free license to display, reproduce, distribute and publicly communicate the artwork on any platform (or list the platforms) for an unlimited duration."
it gets worse
" Intellectual property
By submitting your content to us you hereby grant Paradox a non-exclusive, perpetual, transferable, irrevocable, sub-licensable, royalty-free, and worldwide license to use, modify, reproduce, publish, perform, display, distribute, make derivative works of and otherwise commercially and non-commercially exploit all content submitted by you in any manner or medium now existing or hereafter developed, without separate compensation to you or any other person or entity. "
so yep "make derivative works" = your OC belongs to us, so "cool design its ours now"
transferable = that they can give to another company at any time
this all includes for Ai training btw
on top of their base licensing shit that lets them sell your art or put it in books use it to advertise and never pay you a cent even if you don't win, just submitting it
if you are okay with your oc being used for profit, and going uncredited
by a giant company that could easily pay you if they wanted to, go a head submit...
but if your not okay with that yeah don't enter
the "prize" is a PDF and discord role btw
look a lot of companies do shit like this so just know if you enter you are signing your oc over to a corp far beyond your control
currently working on my chronicle about Albigesian crusade in 13 century so there is work in process of my vision on their design. from left to right: Queen Hélène la Juste of Champagne, King Etienne (Trencavel) de Poitiers of Poitou, Queen-Matriarch Salianna of Paris, Queen Isouda de Blaise of Anjou, Queen Esclarmonde the Black of Toulouse. (hommage to Our lady sings Magnificat, With tones surpassing sweet by Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale.)
All of The Triptych™ with my VtM oc, Aeskild, posts in one
To make it easier for everyone, myself included.
The triptych illustrates major character arks in his backstory, that I've also allegorically retold through The Playlist. It showcases, of course, his Superior Taste™ in music.
I've started this triptych in autumn 2025, and finished in February 2026.
I consider these works, especially the second piece, my best artworks to date. At least, so far.
In each individual post you can find a bit about my vision for each piece.
Links to individual posts under the cut:
Hades I, part 1:
💬 3 🔁 0 ❤️ 4 · Hades I, part 1 of The Triptych™ with my VtM oc, Aeskild · ...who originally was an m!Tremere protag from VTMB.
The tripty
Hades II, part 2:
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 3 · Hades II, part 2 of The Triptych™ with my VtM oc, Aeskild · ...who originally was an m!Tremere protag from VTMB.
The tript
Hades III, Part 3:
💬 5 🔁 0 ❤️ 2 · Hades III, part 3 of The Triptych™ with my VtM oc, Aeskild · ...who originally was an m!Tremere protag from VTMB.
The trip
The Playlist:
💬 0 🔁 1 ❤️ 2 · The Playlist, as an allegorical retelling of Aeskild's backstory through music. An addition to The Tryptich. · Will I post
(Almost full) R3D1S1GИ for a beautiful son of mine, Vincent O'Mary, in '90s Berlin. On the brink of death, he becoming a Toreador (fate worse than death, tbh), and companion for Aeskild.
First and foremost, Vincent IS NOT m!Toreador Protagonist from Bloodlines. Maybe he was once, in times immemorial, but my approach to this character, his core ideas (i.e. being faeblood with already dead changeling inside, from childhood) and concept have changed drastically.
MORE THAN THIS, he is an Irish, which is already... Well, that definitely was a CHOICE.
And yes, he doesn't give a punk, he is a fuck. And, maybe, a little fucked up. Completely.
From this time, he'll be spending his cold nights in Berlin, in '98-99 timeline (approximately). With Aeskild. And it's already the most fucked up ship that VTM fandom has ever known (probably).
Pieces painfully translated from my Oliver Thrace x Callisto Giovanni drabbles
Callisto Giovanni, as always, belongs to @caligariartworks
Если вы знаете русский, вы можете прочитать текст в оригинале!
Зарисовки о Ночах в Риме
Слова: 9,071
Главы: 7/?
Категория: M/M
Жанр: эротика, аллегорическая эротика, светская беседа
The translated text pieces will be under cut.
If you are a native english speaker, I would be very grateful for any kind of feedback, specifically the critique. Idk how more poetic parts are perceived, and if they are intelligible at all.
An interruption. A piece from Chapter 2, "April, 1938".
The work has been monotonous this night. Paper rustled, the automatic quill creaked. Seldom did the paper flipping stop, and the letter knife chirped grittily, opening the envelopes.
By all appearances, tonight was not the night to find any amusing details inside the letters. The boredom began to weigh him down.
Then there was silence.
A knock on the door. One, then another, and none were made by knuckles. Persistent strikes, with hammered gaps. The master of the study decided against replying. A pause. The door opened, nonetheless.
First, a handle has given in, then the hinges creaked gently. Someone entered the study. It was him.
A cane came down the floor, marking a full stop.
"I beg Your pardon for the disturbance," the guest absolutely did not beg: "It was strictly necessary for me to return You a book."
A quill made a blot.
"I do not recall ever lending You a book," Giovanni stopped to loudly open a drawer in search of new blotting paper. The gesture hid his light confusion.
"I was obliged to peruse Your libraries completely on my own accord," the guest looked around the cabinet, as if sizing it up for himself: "To busy myself. They are open for visit, naturally..."
"Indeed, open they are. I also do not recall ever granting You an entrance," he just nodded: "Dear guest..."
Callisto blotted the ink spot, then cleaned the quill. Instead of rewriting the draft, he put the writing supplies away.
"Rare host would prefer his lock picked to a minor disturbance, would he not?" the "dear guest" let out a barking chuckle: "I believe You would agree. Furthermore, it seems the work has tired You."
He, the Hong Kong client and the first guest to Callisto's villa, stood still where he first halted. A tall, immovable figure amidst the study he seemed. The book was indeed held in his hand. He did not hasten himself to return it to the owner.
"Allow me to inquire, what exactly had driven You to this conclusion?" Callisto Giovanni laid his elbows on the table, clasping his fingers, and then rested his chin on them, thus imitating curiosity... With a hint of demand.
"A keen ear?" he moved his hand holding a cane, drawing a half circle, and seemingly straightened himself up: "Intuition. Be that a matter of utmost importance, You would have closed the study with keys". His posture appeared statuesque, so static it was.
The guest held the edge perfectly: he did not let paranoia derail the discussion yet, but barely concealed his provocations with delight. Oliver Thrace himself knew he was treading the tightrope. He was no stranger to that.
"Indeed? Amusing... And if it is only so, that I am not used to guests yet? May it be so, that usually there is no reason for me to close the study at all?"
The owner of the villa looked at the guest inextricably, studying him. The latter handled Giovanni's glance staidly. The wish to return to writing has vanished.
"Excuse me, considering Your occupation..." Oliver stretched his lips, clicked his tongue and quickly glanced over the study again: "To me it seems, even, that your study lacks protecting rituals,' he bobbed his head: "You never know what might come into a ghoul's mind."
"And are you, perhaps, intending to expedite that?" Callisto stifled tension in his body, leaning forward, and pushed out an innocent smile.
"No, naturally," he rolled his shoulder, giving an inarticulate answer: "I am here to pursue other matters."
The pause fell. Thrace swung his hand, which clasped a book still, in the air:
"And both of us are aware of that. Aren't we?"
Callisto did not dignify the remark with an answer. He did not find, how to express his thought politely. Not that it should have been expressed to a guest. Or a client.
In a moment, the silence hung heavily. The guest used it to turn to his side and inspect the book shelves, bureau, paintings… Almost inadvertently he presented his blind side, and Callisto took note of the gesture. Not even looking down, he reached for a quill.
“A queer choice of books for a personal study,” the guest swung, from one leg to another, but did not turn around: “Such would one rather find in a waiting room. It seemed to me, somehow, that You would only keep documents in here.”
His remark was left without an answer. The owner of the villa knew not if it was best to entertain his own curiosity, or, rather, conceal it. When the guest turned his back to him, he quickly glanced upon the draft. And the solemn ink blot.
The distance to his table was closed before he lifted his eyes. Hammered steps, the clank of a cane on wood, a faintly offbeat rhythm. The guest had a slight, almost unnoticeable limp in his step.
“And how exactly is the selection queer?” Callisto hesitated for a bit, hoping only that his tastes and preferences would not be immediately apparent.
“It is impossibly hectic,” it was apparent to Oliver: “You do not enjoy reading?”
“On the contrary, but I am very particular about it.”
“So it means, a chivalric romance does not interest You?”, instead of a question mark in his tone, a full stop was put with a book loudly landing on the edge of the table. The guest instead leaned his fingers against the table rim, noticeably bending over to do so.
He stood too close for comfort. Giovanni did not wish to look up at him. Still have had to, nonetheless. Alas, his study was not equipped with extra seating.
“Why so? To my recollection, the book has notes,” the owner of the book spoke with pressure, as if he was indeed nicked by the guest’s frankness: “If you had truly read it, then you could not have missed them.”
“Judging by the rarity of this particular edition, the notes could have been not Yours at all,” he took a pause: “But the penmanship most certainly is Yours,” the guest courteously kept his gaze above the papers on the table, almost in line with Giovanni's temples.
Though the eye patch would not let him see them at all.
Callisto did not find how to respond to the Hong Kong client, at first. He leaned back in his armchair to meet the guest’s almost translucent, pale eye with his gaze.
“And You? Do you have an interest in chivalric romance?”, a voice carried a jab, or a scoff. But the mellow demeanor did not support the tone: “Or are you apathetic towards them?”
“By no means… I was curious how the age is described by those men of written word, who have not lived through it.”
<...>
Thee so-called "Ethereal Erotic". A piece from Chapter 2, "April, 1938".
Other's knuckle brushes against his chin. The thumb lays itself into the valley under the lip, prudently. Callisto is being led, so he raises his gaze to the guest. A pewter figure is immovable.
The master of the villa has a mixture of curiosity and anticipation in his eye. His own gaze only has hunger.
Oliver allows himself to indulge in the suspense, permeating around. He only tilts his head, assessing a field of battle. Palms glide against the flowing cloth, faltering, higher, towards the collar. Rustling is the cloth of the trousers — it is the master of the villa who welcomes his guest, at last.
His gesture is not left unanswered.
The cane's shaft hollowly meets the table edge, and with that the guest leans in. Callisto feels the silver of the cane's hilt with his thigh. The other one's gaze is colder than metal. Giovanni could swear that his cheek might get burned by the heat of a breath. But there is none, instead his neck is touched by a lip of a waxen statue.
There might have been a startled vein beating under his tongue. Thrace could almost woe that. But the master of the study swallows mechanically, instead. His own lungs answer by breathing out hoarsely, almost like a pair of bellows. Other one's fingers caress the slithery cloth, striving to embrace his spine.
Callisto waits — yearns for! — the snap of one's teeth, the snarling... Acrid pain on his skin, anything! Guest's palm follows tenderly down his neck. Does the cane's handle feel the same? The answer is absent. His throat gets clasped tightly. He blinks, bewildered, and only manages to close his eyes.
A rumble, a tearful ringing and a rustle of paper. A crackling of silk in pallid knuckles. The back lands on the tabletop with a thud. Viscous moisture crawls into the garment's folds inexorably. It is the skin that feels how the shirt gets slowly, languidly permeated by ink.
In the shadow, the guest's only eye is murky and flat, just as if it belonged to a dead fish.
The sight is assessed inquisitively. The Beast treads the edge. It bares its teeth at the rods of its cage, traces the air with its scent. Oliver playfully reels in the leash. It is not the time yet. He coerces himself to straighten.
Under the lamp the guest's skin resembles a candle, lit: translucent and murky, silky, opaque. Only a flick of an eye patch spoils the illusion. Callisto bites his lip softly, unseen, holding his lips unopened. That is all he dares to allow himself. But he knows that an action will not go unnoticed.
<...>
Английский не передает, да?
Если вы знаете оба языка хорошо, я нежнейше молю дать фидбек на качество перевода и точность передачи настроения. Если все заебок, то получается, ПРИДЕТСЯ переводить целиком хотя бы пару глав.
Hiding from artblock by painting traditionally so meet my favourite vampire oc Alice. Excuse her for not being dressed properly, she's just a tzimisce girl
Redesigning Aeskild, my Tremere OC who (is about to become) a fledgling in the '90s-00s Berlin.
Sooo I've started redesigning Aeskild a bit for our transfer of The Bois from vtmb-la-etc-etc into 90s Berlin and... It is certainly a breather for him. In previous iteration he was 27, but here he is only in his early 20s.
You can even kinda see what clothes he kept from his late teens as a trad goth and how techno/acid/early rave culture influenced his style. Ffs @eirewinne and I will have to rewrite the whole sourcebook because apart from the famous intro it is... lacking. let' put it like that.
We started a text rp just to flesh things out, let loose and feel for a bit, so I had to support my descriptions with some visuals.
Bonus: "true color" + shenanigans with different club lighting because why not.
