[Here it is! I replaced the pre generated characters for original ones. Amelia Luna is my character and I will write the chronicle from her point of view, making her decisions myself. The other 4 playable characters will be treated as NPC and their decisions will be based on the fate chart system (mythic GM emulato).
This chronicle was made for vtm v1 but I adapted it to the new v5 mechanics. In the first scene all the players start as normal people so I thought it would be fun to make it my character origin story.
PSA: this might be full of grammatical and spelling errors, please bear with me, English is not my first language and I'm using this to improve myself.]
Alien Hunger
Prologue:
Jacob Prestor layed on the floor, with both arms and legs broken, he could do nothing but watch as the flames danced and flickered around him. "why now? " he thought, "why now of all times? The fledglings, what will they do?". His thoughts turned to the basement, which his attackers had overlooked in their haste, and to those who would soon waken in there. He held that picture in his mind's eye as he slid into blackness.
Chapter 1: the first nights
Scene 1: The attack
April 23th 1991, 8pm. Colorado University. Amelia was leaving the building still with the labcoat on, too tired to care. That week had been a nightmare for her mental health. Her research supervisor needed results to justify the fundings, she hardly could come up with money for groceries and that fucking guy kept calling her non stop.
She let loose her hair and kept walking through the campus, looking at nothing in particular, lost in her thoughts for a while.
Suddenly, the hairs in the back of her neck stood up, she looked around and saw that there was nobody around except for an old man with a beard walking behind her. At first he kept distance but now was nearly trotting and was going to catch up with her at any moment. She felt silly. Probably he was going to ask her for the time, he looked like a professor, not a threat at all.
Then, he grabbed her. There was no way of attempting to do a grip and make him loose his balance as she was told in self defense classes. Her feet were dangling in the air, she tried to kick him, to scratch him, but he was incredibly strong and his skin felt like hard leather under her nails. He put one hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.
"I'm sorry."
She felt terror, but the confusion was the last thing she remembered before all went blank.
Scene 2
