Name: Tristan Shahi
Concept: Esoteric artist, eccentric noble, hedonistic aesthete, tortured soul
Clan: Malkavian
Sire: Ibrahim ibn Baraka
Road: Lilith

Personality: Tristan seems to harbor a few people in his stable. When showing off an art piece of offering hospitality, he is amiable and energetic. His attitude is one of excess and reflects the luxury that he lives in daily. It's a stark contrast to what might be described as macabre works of stone and marble that reflect sorrow and suffering, whether it be a mother clutching her child to her chest and a soldier reaching to wrench it from her or a grotesque monster perched on a plinth. He serves these pieces with a smile as if to say that suffering is a reward into itself and some might find appeal in that when the world is so rough. He is serious and earnest in academic pursuits when not caught in flights of fancy.

Description: Tristan stands at 5'8 and a stocky 155 pounds. His looks are ordinary, skin the color of the sand that typified the land of his birth and black hair. The only thing that marks him peculiarly are blue eyes that move about as if trying to capture every detail around him and in some cases this is the truth. He wears finery and rough hewn woolen fare in equal measure, though he tends to the comfortable. His moods are almost clockwork depending on the wear of clothing. A more somber affair will be muted colors and simple textiles. Somehow, deception doesn't seem worth the effort. But why is he smiling?

Background: Tristan was born in the midst of conflict to a mother who'd been subject to the whims of his father without any romance. The one who cut his cord was his sire in a bizarre twist of fate. The Road of Lilith had brought them together again and again. Tristan remembers pain. He almost died to brigands in a fruitless pursuit for ransom but his sire intervened. His sire seemed to offer something different in serving the Mother. He didn't know what it meant but he knew he missed his own and someone wanted him. It didn't matter for what purpose in that moment. Tristan knows they travelled but he can't remember much. Fire and blood and gold. He has so much gold. And a companion that he knows cares about him for some reason, with no agenda. Together, he and his retainer Victor entered Venice in 1218 and he built the life he has amidst nobles and artists and thieves and all manner of people. He loves them all or he thinks he does. Flashes of his life come during moments of pain. The Road seems to be testing him but he isn't always sure if he wants to pass and so goes the tale of the Pauper Prince, rich in wealth and health, impoverished in spirit and memory.