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Ravi FitzCoventry last won the day on May 21 2019

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About Ravi FitzCoventry

  • Rank
    Supporting Character

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location:
    Wherever seems interesting
  • Interests
    Philandering, wenching, womanising, heartbreaking... And he likes girls, too.

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  1. "How the devil am I supposed to-? No, I imagine you can't tell me. Impossible yarn and all that." Ravi looked down at the steaming tea in his cup. "You have to admit, this is rather a lot to take in, Thaddeus." When the butler(?) did not answer, the young nobleman raised his sleek head to regard him... Or rather, where he had been. Thaddeus Alowishus Chadwick Mortimer Lightwood the Third, Esquire, was gone. The tea service on it's neat tray was gone. With a start, Ravi realised that the cup he'd been holding was gone. For a wild moment he wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing - but he could still smell the Earl Gray. That was reassuring, in a sense. It meant that either he was so far gone his senses could not be trusted, or at least something of what he'd experienced had been real. And his senses had been tricky, lately, but not deceptive. The dreams of predatory intensity, the strange flash of something malevolent and demonic under the perfect fascinating surface of Ravenna D'Sombra - something was afoot, and whether it was destiny or psychosis tapping him on the shoulder, a FitzCoventry did not run from discovery. So... The other Chosen, capital C. D'Sombra knew more, hoarding the information. He mulled that over as he made himself a cup of normal, everyday Yorkshire tea, the bags for which he'd located at a small store that dealt in British goods for expats living in New York. A small creature comfort. He stirred the drink absently as his mind flickered over what he'd seen of D'Sombra, what he'd observed. "You see, it's not a rivalry, Ms. Mason, it's a game. You, the frizzy haired little mulatto girl, the ginger military man, hell," she gestured to Ravi, who seemed quite taken aback at the sudden inclusion. "Even this man isn't here by coincidence. We know things you don't..." Yes, that fit. He remembered the pretty girl with the ample assets, how angrily she'd confronted D'Sombra and how swiftly and callously she had been routed. He didn't remember a mulatto girl, but there had been a red-haired man with a face only a drunken mother could have loved. Pieces in a game. The Chosen. A game played between D'Sombra and 'Mourn', whoever that was. So who had sent his polite and erstwhile visitor? He let out a short frustrated sigh and sipped his tea. Every answer led to another question. Fortunately, at least one answer might lead to more enlightenment. He knew where to find D'Sombra. "So, if your morals aren't afraid to get too tarnished, meet me next week, 8PM, in my office at Nyx, thirteenth floor, Google it." It was Friday night - well, Saturday morning. Next week could not come fast enough. Although the invitation had been ostensibly directed at Ms Mason, aristocracy was nothing if not good at assuming they were welcome at all the best places. And besides, if there really was a game afoot, D'Sombra would not have made a slip accidentally, surely. A test of his curiousity, or his initiative? He had doubts she was genuinely appraising him for a dancing partner, horizontal or otherwise - or maybe she was mixing her game with a little pleasure on the side. There was only one way to find out.
  2. Ravi accepted the cup, his eyes going from wide with shock to narrowing in thought. "No sugar, thank you." he said, inhaling the tea. "Smells very fine indeed, Thaddeus." A lesser mortal might have freaked the hell out right about now, but Ravi was currently convinced that this was some manner of dream. After all, tea services did not appear out of thin air, least of all - he checked, yes, ones made of fine china such as his mother would have kept as a prized heirloom. "Last time I smelled Earl Grey this good was- Well, it was a long way from here." "You are far too kind, sir." Thaddeus dropped a lump of sugar in his own cup, stirring it delicately with a small spoon. Ravi sipped the tea - yes, it had the notes of a specially blended master-brew. This whole affair was taking on a surreal quality, a 'down the rabbit-hole' vibe. Here he was, drinking fine tea served by the Ghost of Butlers Past. Or something like that. Am I insane? "Am I insane?" he asked Thaddeus conversationally. The butler-like gentleman looked mildly shocked as he gently blew on his own tea to cool it. "I sincerely hope not, sir. That would put a crimp in things, yes indeed." Thaddeus sipped, then sighed contentedly. "Well then, I shan't be so crass as to ask where you had this tea service tucked away." Ravi leaned against the counter, studying the other man. Every ounce of his considerable poise and courage kept his voice from trembling as he went on. "Though you have to allow me some curiousity - you said you wished to discuss my future?"
  3. The man formality was almost a caricature, especially here, in this place so far from his roots. Bemused, Ravi stepped back and opened the door, waving the man in with a courteous sweep of the hand. "Not at all. Though it's not 'lord', I'm afraid. These days you find me as just plain Mister FitzCoventry." the disgraced nobleman said with as much dignity as his circumstance and bearing allowed - which to be fair was considerable. After all, taking a title away does not change the nature of the thing - and generations of breeding of blue bloodlines had, in addition to luckily not leading to webbed feet or non-existent chin, blessed the scion of the English nobility with considerable poise, even wearing just a pair of jeans or when dancing on a stage for a bachelorette party. He motioned to the closed bedroom door to indicate a need for relative quiet, then moved into the kitchen. "You find me about to fix myself something - can I offer you a drink?"
  4. He paused for a moment, looking alertly towards the door, then back at the bedroom for a moment before he padded on the balls of his feet up to the portal and peeked through the spyhole. He didn't owe money to the sorts of people who came knocking at this hour to reclaim it, so he assumed it was either one of his co-workers or, worse, another sugar mama from the club dropping by unannounced for a booty call. What he hadn't been expecting was a picture of Victorian propriety - a neat-looking man in a well-tailored suit complete with waistcoat, set off with a bowler hat and a monocle of all things. A small gold chain adorning the waistcoat clearly indicated the presence of a fob-watch. Ravi took his head away from the spyhole, blinked once or twice, then looked again. Yes: still there, still dapper. If it wasn't for the bowler (an adornment of civil servants, solicitors, cads and bankers - or any combination of those), he'd not look out of place in the portraits hanging back home. He glanced at the pocket watch, snapping it shut and knocked again. He didn't seem impatient, merely a man with a task to perform. Ravi padded noiselessly to the bedroom, plucked a pair of jeans from the floor and donned them before leaving the bedchamber and it's lovely slumbering occupant, gently closing the door behind him. The third knock had just sounded, no louder or harder than the prior two, when Ravi shot back the bolts and cracked the door open, one green-gold eye peering at the man through the gap. "Good morning?" he asked, his insouciant tone making it unclear whether this was a greeting, a question, or a reproof at having been woken at such an hour. Probably all three in one - it's a British thing.
  5. "That woman makes my skin crawl." Sienna murmured through her fixed smile as Ravi steered her around a group of chattering upper-crust. "Did you see how she was sizing you up like a... like a side of... of beef!" This last was delivered in a harsh hiss as she leaned closer, the heat of her palpable to Ravi as she pressed against his arm. He turned his head, the lights playing over the blue-black glossy sweep of his hair as he smiled down at her. She was more than annoyed, he sensed with some impersonal clarity. She was also rattled. D'Sombra scared her in a deep primal way. For a moment, Ravi considered whether to poke at that wound, to drop a casual comment of how lovely and gracious Ravenna seemed to him. But he decided against it. It was one thing to be provocative, another to be a sadist. "And yet you are the one on my arm." he said quietly, the deep purr of his voice a balm to the frazzled socialite as he leaned down closer to her ear, his breath warm as he kissed her cheek. He felt rather than saw the tension leave his date and smiled, dropping another lingering kiss just below her ear and feeling her shiver. He rather liked Sienna - she was beautiful, just bitchy enough to be entertaining, a warm and passionate lover with just enough of a scorned woman's insecurity to add a primal edge to her fucking, and talked a lot about 'bettering' his situation. Of course, he knew that likely meant moving in with her permanently and being a kept toy-boy, but he appreciated she liked him enough to think of such a thing. "Yes, yes I am." she replied with a smile, drawing her head back and looking up at him as she cupped his cheek in her palm, feeling the faint rasp of well-shaved stubble. "Now come on, let me introduce you to some nice people." "Those exist here?" he asked with a sly smile, glimmers of mirth dancing in his exotic eyes. "Is there a special room for them we haven't been into yet?" "You are terrible!" Sienna's laughter was silvery as she led him over to a group of well-dressed art appreciators and philanthropists.
  6. Ravi smiled slightly at Sienna, though he didn't share what he viewed as her insecure, fearful resentment towards D'Sombra, who had the Old World class and beauty which any New York socialite would kill to possess and which Ravi was more than comfortable around. Admittedly, few in Europe's high society were quite as... predatory or intriguing as the woman, which piqued the young aristocrat's interest further still. He remained silent for the moment, letting D'Sombra's candid revelations about some grand game between her and this 'Mourne' fellow percolate through his mind as he watched her handle the fuming young woman. D'Sombra disturbed him somewhat, but she also reminded Ravi of what it was to possess influence, to wield power with self-assurance. He had not realised till witnessing it so starkly how much he missed that aspect of his old life. Her straightforwardness in pronouncing her list of sins also appealed to him - she didn't need the approval of others, she was what she was and dared anyone to take her to task over it, even making a bold statement of her intention to steal Sienna's 'dancing partner'. He did wonder as to her goals - what was this game of hers about? And why did it involve such a disparate number of unrelated people? Why him, a disgraced young blue-blood from England? He had no influence or power worth speaking of. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought as his eyes gleamed watchfully behind the meaningless pleasantry of his smile. Sienna's disgusted look did remind Ravi that he was, to coin a phrase, 'on the clock' right now. With a graceful motion, he took D'Sombra's champagne glass from his date's hand, clearing his throat politely and handing it to a passing waiter. "It appears I am monopolising your time, Miss D'Sombra. So many others must also be wanting to seek out such a notable woman." he smiled, his voice a smooth deep purr. "And besides, there is so much more to see here, I am sure. I feel confident we shall meet again." He gave her another quick smile and took Sienna's hand, tucking it through the crook of his arm with practiced ease, plainly intending to withdraw.
  7. Ravi was young, and whilst no longer being wealthy he came from wealth and privilege. This might lead some to consider him a vapid weakling or 'chinless wonder', but such people do not realise that swimming with big fish means having to develop teeth and armor of one's own. If anything, prison hadn't so much toughened Ravi up as put the polish on his plating - besides, anyone who can survive boarding at a elite private school for their entire childhood can handle prison. So when faced with that flash of something disturbing and wicked underneath the gorgeous surface of Ravenna D'Sombra, the tall, dark and handsome young man did not outwardly react more than blinking once or twice as his face kept it's pleasant smile. "We bumped into one another at a Latin dance class." he replied smoothly in a silken tone and with no apparent discomfort at the lie as Sienna smiled nervously. He took Miss D'Sombra's hand with a practiced gentle clasp, giving her a dazzling smile and a charming eye-meet. Dark hair in a cloud, and blood-red lips forming his name / Flawless hands running up and under the nape of his hair, gripping and making him look into a dark mirror to see a bestial mask of hunger and rage... He let Ravenna's hand slip from his. "Where you are an instructor, I presume?" The woman (if that's what she was) ran her gaze down and up Ravi's lean athletic form like a livestock rearer appraising a new purchase, her lips smirking as she took in the discomfort of Ravi's date as though she knew exactly where Sienna had met the exotic manflesh she had on her arm. The young FitzCoventry chuckled, shaking his head. "Alas, merely a gifted lover of salsa." he said with a significant slight pause and an impish gleam in his eye. Ravenna laughed, her knowing dark gaze seeming to approve of his answers as she inclined her head in a faint nod.
  8. “It’s a simple business proposition.” The handsome red-head told him from the edge of the bed as she re-fastened her hair into a braid. The bed was large, as was the room, as was the apartment. Of course, none of them were his. Ravi let his gaze wander down the pale skin of his (current) bedmate’s back. A rich recent divorcee in her 40’s, Sienna had kept much of her youthful beauty in that well-maintained way rich women do when they don’t have to worry about working for a living. She was also, Ravi reflected, voracious in the sack. Her ex-husband must have dumped her for self-preservation rather than because he’d found a more beautiful model. “Tom will be there, with that dingy little drudge he’s seen with these days, and I refuse to play the ‘solitary woman scorned’ role.” She half-turned, catching his iridescent eyes lazily studying her and smiling. “It will be fun, my sweet.” “Well, I am supposed to be working tomorrow night...” Ravi drawled, his velvety voice even now causing Sienna’s insides to liquefy as the scoundrel pretended to ponder her idea. She scowled and flapped a hand dismissively. “Shaking that tush on a stage, however delicious a sight I find it, is not real ‘work’, Ravi.” She leaned over and kissed his stubbly cheek, smiling slightly. “And like I said, this would be paid time, not playtime. One thousand dollars to escort me to the gala at the gallery and be your too-charming self, dazzle my friends and make their own husbands pick up their game, and if Tom happens to gnaw on his liver from envy so much the better.” “Dancing is real work.” Ravi mildly protested as he swung his legs out of bed and stood, performing a full-body stretch in a very distracting way as he twisted his shoulders this way and that. Golden skin flowed over taut muscles that shifted and moved... Sienna stared for a moment, hypnotised and fighting the overwhelming urge to run her hands down his back – again. He turned his head and grinned at her, half-lidded eyes glinting green-gold. “But you’ve intrigued me. Alright. One thousand dollars. And I’ll need a tux.” The gala was, much as expected, a mixture of interesting and tedious for the easily-bored young aristocrat. Lots of glitter, canapés and champagne, of course. And art. Lots of art. Ravi had mixed feelings on art which could generally be summed up as ‘meh’. Some art was good, some was bad, and that seemed to be simple enough. However he was familiar enough with the upper crust art scene to know that it was filled with pretension. In this crowd there might be a handful of people who actually knew anything about art, fewer of whom would be experts, and the rest of them were all pretending that the Emperor was wearing clothes just because it was easier that way. He didn’t NOT like art, mind. He just didn’t see the need to stand around and gasbag about it. Appreciation of art for Ravi was like appreciating a sunrise – best done privately or with one or two others, and with a minimum of speaking about how wonderfully the colours blended. Right now he was standing by himself in front of a framed melange of swirling dark colours interspersed with lighter blotches of colour, feeling somewhat ill at ease. Not because of the surroundings, but from the piece itself. It seemed chaotic and pregnant with something monstrous, and it touched a chord in him that disturbed him. It seemed to harken to the dreams he'd been having of late, and Ravi fancied he could feel breath on his neck as he stared at the painting.
  9. Name: Ravi FitzCoventry Nature: Gallant Demeanor: Bon Vivant Concept: Disowned nobleman turned exotic dancer Age: 22 Physical: Strength ●●●, Dexterity ●●●, Stamina ●●● Social: Charisma ●●●, Manipulation ●●●, Appearance ●●●● (Striking) Mental: Perception ●●, Intelligence ●●, Wits ●●● Talents: Alertness ●●, Athletics ●●, Brawl ●●, Empathy ●, Expression ●, Intimidation ●, Leadership ●, Primal-Urge ●, Streetwise ●●, Subterfuge ●● Skills: Animal Ken, Crafts, Drive ●●, Etiquette ●●●, Firearms, Larceny , Melee, Performance●●●, Stealth ●, Survival Knowledges: Academics (History) ●, Computer , Enigmas ●, Investigation ●●, Law, Medicine, Occult, Rituals, Science, Technology Backgrounds: Allies ●, Contacts ●, Influence ●, Resources ●● Breed: Homid Pryio: Twilight Tribe: Bagheera Rank: 1 Cleverness: 2 Ferocity: 1 Honor: Rage: 2 Gnosis: 2 Willpower: 4 Gifts: Catfeet, Sweet Hunter's Smile, Treeclimber Merits: Animal Magnetism 2pt (WtA 20th); Perfect Balance 1pt (WtA 20th); Wolf Sight 1pt (WtA 20th); Sex Appeal 4pt (CB 20th) Flaws: Overconfident 1pt (WtA 20th); Strict Carnivore 1pt (WtA 20th); Curiousity 2pt (WtA 20th); No Partial Transformation 1pt (WtA 20th); BPs spent 10 on Attributes (Two dots); 2 on Abilities (1 dot of Talents); 3 on Merits. (Net difference) Background: Born to a wealthy English family with aristocratic blood (his father is the 13th Baron FitzCoventry), Ravi is technically the eleventh in line to the Earldom of the city of Coventry. Or he would be, if he hadn’t been disowned and his name struck from the family will. His ancestry is a curious mixture of blue-blooded English and Northern Indian, dating back to the days of the British Raj. The family keeps close ties with their subcontinental roots, having in the past freely intermingled with the people there. It's to this Ravi owes his exotic looks and noble bearing, along with a healthy dose of laid-back insouciance and self-confidence. By the age of seventeen, he has already been thrown out of several schools for 'inappropriate behaviour' involving members of the opposite sex, some of them members of staff. Naturally, his family's wealth and connections have ensured that the details of his 'transfers' are not known. Even the most sheltered of prodigals can, however, wear out the grace of his protectors. Having had few limits or consequences levied on him, Ravi became ever more spoiled and pushed further beyond acceptable behaviour, moving from using to dealing drugs at his expensive prep school. Even that would have been tolerated... if it hadn’t been for the death of one of his fellow students from a bad batch of Ecstacy. The investigation led straight back to Ravi, and not even his family could shelter him from the fallout of his actions – not that they were inclined to. Cut off from his trust fund, denied access to Daddy’s lawyers, the young aristocrat was sentenced to two years with a possibility of parole after ten months. Life can be tough in jail for a rich boy who is no longer rich. By a combination of charm, manipulation and ruthlessness, Ravi managed to serve his ten months without getting shivved or raped, but it was a near-thing. He found no welcoming committee on the outside, only an envelope of cash and a firm suggestion that his family never wanted to see him again, delivered by a solicitor. Still proud and prickly, Ravi decided to leave England’s shores, coming to the U.S. With an unfinished education and little in the way of practical skills, the only strength he had was his charm and looks. He drifted from dead-end job to dead-end job, not having the temperament for 9-5 employment, until finally he stumbled into the exotic male dancer scene, having been discovered working behind a bar. Beautiful and athletic, Ravi was a big hit with the club’s female clientele, and found it an easy jump from dancer to gigolo – the money being better for starters. Image: Tall, sleekly muscled and gorgeous, Ravi combines the best of two worlds in his exotic appearance. His skin tone is a rich dark tan, contrasting with spellbindingly large green-gold eyes. His features are predominently Caucasian, though hints of his Punjab ancestry are not limited to his dusky skin.
  10. ,, Ravi felt his hackles rise as he padded barefoot down the path after the others, the darkness pressing in about him. This wasn't normal darkness, which was the absence of light, in which he would be perfectly at home. This darkness was unnatural, a living thing - anti-light. The werepanther was uneasy, remembering dimly the cloying, clinging darkness of Lucia's creation that had deadened his senses. ,, "I think there's a definite link between Lucia and this place." he remarked softly. "The darkness... feels the same, I suppose one would say." His fingers twitched slightly, his claws unsheathing and resheathing in response to his tension.
  11. "Ravi?!" Sean was the first to speak, her blue eyes widening at the sight of the Dalton manther. Ravi, typically, recovered his aplomb with remarkable speed and plopped down onto some cushions, Lal alongside him as the younger werepanther glanced around the room with a critical eye. ,, "I like the decor." he said at length. "Tastefully understated." ,, "What are you doing here, Mister FitzCoventry?" Sylvia asked calmly. ,, "Answering your prayers, of course." Ravi shrugged, gesturing towards himself. "I know you missed me, Sylvia. And I could hardly let my friends go dashing off into danger once I had thought a little about it." He examined his nails with studied insouciance, then grinned his razor grin. "So lets dispense with the awkwardness - I know you're as happy to see me here as I am to have found you so quickly." ,, "You were coming to the Devi." Swan stated rather than asked, a faint smile on her pale face. Ravi winked at her, and nodded. ,, "I wanted to find you." he explained. ,, "And we, that is, our people, also have things we wish to know more of." Lal added, smiling a little at Ravi's manner. "Ravi has persuaded our patriarch to at least consider the possibility of... engagement." ,, "I'm very persuasive." Ravi shrugged again, then smiled at the other Daltonites. "You can thank me later, I'm sure. In the meantime, I believe we have a meeting?"
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