Ricar Yakiv Kulish

Old Clan Tzimisce x Morgan Hanover Erlich

Appearance: At first glance, Yakiv might look like a homeless veteran. A more careful look will reveal that beneath his scruffy exterior, he wears expensive shirts and shoes, and carries an aura of menace no true hobo could match. Yakiv stands 5'9", and weighs about 220 lbs of wiry muscle. He has sandy brown hair and light brown eyes. Ten years as ghoul to a Nosferatu harmed his appearance, as he was constantly sprouting minor skin conditions that the most careful of personal habits could not fix. His embrace with severe burns added to the effect. His face looks like he only just returned from heavy combat.

Background: Yakiv followed his brother from a Lithuanian collective farm into the Soviet military and from there into the special forces. He saw little action before the wall fell, Lithuania became independent, and non-Russians were cashiered from service with unfulfilled dreams in place of a pension. Within a year, they were contacted by their old Special Forces instructor, and recruited into a secret, black-ops team dedicated to taking down the supernatural threats that plagued the old USSR.

Some ten years later, that mission brought them to Sofia, body-guarding their handler as he searched for a "Tzimisce" who's knowledge was dangerous to the regime. Their employer died violently in his sleep, leaving the team with a lot of angst and little to do. They were on the brink of going down in a very public blaze of glory when they fell asleep, and were awoken one at a time. They were given an offer they decided not to refuse - take up employment with the Tzimisce they were hunting, or die. Not much of a choice.

The new job was comfy. Less awkward infiltration, more slack time, and more face time with the boss. And the new boss was higher on the ladder - a Primogen, whatever that means. Then came the museum.

The thing is, the new boss never figured out that as a honcho, he could send in the heavies to do his dirty work, and not have to risk his own neck. Instead, Marius insisted on doing things himself, and getting in the way. Yakiv could respect that Marius wanted to keep his hand in the game, but he wasn't very good at it. For all Marius' power, something went sideways, and Yakiv and his brother were blasted off of a balcony by some kind of explosion. Then came the liquid fire burning through his veins.

The next thing he knows, it's three years later, and his entire team, all of his brothers, including his elder brother who always looked out for him, are dead, butchered by some Arab bad-ass called Tel-at. But Yakiv's a Vampire now, and more than ready to settle the score. Only, Marius won't let him. He keeps talking about how Tel-at's umpteen hundred years old, a member of the cult of assassins who broke the Crusades, and could wipe the floor a hundred new vampires like Yakiv. He didn't want to, but Yakiv went along, tried to learn things, how to fight Vampire-style, and went back to trying to keep Marius' ass out of the fire.

That last part lead to a series of humiliating lessons. Yakiv used every trick he could think of , called on every contact he had, and still got his hat shoved up his ass over and over again. The thing is, Marius and his brother Benesj were right - fighting like a human in a vampire fight is like bringing a sharp stick to a gunfight. Yakiv knows that he is lucky to be alive.

Unfortunately, Marius isn't any better at teaching how to fight like a vampire than he is at leading an op. He was obsessed with teaching Yakiv magic. Sure, it might be useful to know what clan your enemy is, but usually if you have their blood, the fight's already over, right? A lot of the more advanced stuff Marius pulls out of his ass is pretty spiffy, but in trying to learn it, Yakiv felt like a high-school dropout in a post-doc class in brain surgery. So, he found another way.

Yakiv is now a Paige in the Ordo Dracul. He knows enough to realize that joining a knightly brotherhood is a lot like joining a pagan cult in the modern era - even Vampires have gotten over chivalry. But these guys are bad-asses: The elite of the elite among Vampire warriors, just like Yakiv and his brothers were among mortals. This is the shit he needs to take down Tel-at and his Assamite stooges, and get one back for his brothers. Unfortunately, there's a lot of bowing and scraping, taking care of horses, memorizing long lists of names, and learning what fork to use to drink type-B-positive, and not much about killing sneaky blood-drinkers. On one level, Yakiv gets it - he made it through spec-ops training after all, and knows that the trainers want to be respected and want you to know that without their help you are less than dog-shit. And Prince Chavdar's worth it too - a bad-ass that puts Marius, Tel-at, and all the rest to shame. But putting up with such a lack of respect is fucking hard. Yakiv wants to become a squire so bad he can taste it, and every time Chavdar realizes it, he sends Yakiv back to scrubbing horse-shit with a toothbrush as a lesson in humility - and the old fucker can read minds. Sometimes, Yakiv thinks the toothbrushes have a better chance. (Embraced: 2005 A.D. by Prince Marius Egnatius)

Though it breaks custom, Yakiv has a group of retainers - 6 replacements for the special ops force he was once part of. He called in his contacts and assembled people with what he though of as potential, and had just began training them when he was finally allowed to become a Paige. They have blended with Chavdar's other soldiers, and are being trained themselves in the art of killing Vampires, but Yakiv has suffered several exceptionally humiliating lessons for coming in contact with them, even accidentally.

Yakiv's Statistics