This story is based on Mummy: The Ressurection which is property of White Wolf Games. No profit is being made by me.
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A Mummy's Tale
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The St. Clouds had money. Big house, servants, the whole nine yards. Mr. St. Cloud was a TV executive. His wife was dead of a Valium overdose (carefully hushed up). Their daughter, Thaelin was left to the care of servants.
St. Cloud knew how to deal with servants and with employees. He did not know how to deal with a child. He gave his daughter criticism instead of advice and money instead of affection. Even if he'd wanted to, St. Cloud was not a man with affection to give. He planned for his child to go into politics, not caring that she would rather have hot needles jammed under her fingernails. Thaelin hated the empty, smarmy falseness of politics in her father's world, loathed it with every fiber of her being.
So she rebelled; painting her nails black and her hair pink, cutting class and smoking weed, wandering around town alone at all hours and dabbling in the occult. It was the standard story of Family Life in Corporate America. Situation normal, all fucked up.
To aid her in her tendency to wind up in bad parts of town at night, Thaelin took Jujitsu and taught herself how to shoot. The lessons and the gun had to be bought with Daddy's money, which Thaelin hated taking, but it was better than getting mugged as wandering was better than going home.
Home was empty. There was nothing for her there.
The Fundamentalist Christianity to which her father paid lip service didn't do a lot for Thaelin either. She looked elsewhere for Truth and meaning. Tarot. Voodoo. Yoga. If she heard of it, she tried it, the more counter-culture the better. But Thaelin never found what she was looking for. She didn't even know what she was looking for. But Thaelin was really little more than a dabbler without the patience or the faith to stick with anything once it started getting difficult.
She had no friends for much the same reason. Her sense of shifting, restless unhappiness and frustration with all life made her so prickly and snappish that you didn't dare reach out a hand to her lest she bite it off. Of course, being lonely made her more unhappy, which worsened the problem so that the more isolated she was, the more she isolated herself in a vicious, unbreakable cycle. Perhaps Thaelin would have been a suicide if the Hummer doing 60 on the back road she was crossing hadn't beaten her to it. She was nineteen.
The next thing Thaelin knew was a calm, quiet voice that seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages. The voice offered her immortality and a life as a warrior for balance and justice. She almost said no to the immortality bit. Life hadn't been such a picnic for Thaelin that she really wanted seconds. But her mind seized on the warrior-for-Balance part. A job? A purpose? Something with meaning, something worthwhile. That was what she'd always been looking for.
The street was deserted and the Hummer's driver hadn't even slowed down much less stopped to see what he'd done.
So there was no one to notice when the young woman's tattered and broken corpse calmly got up and walked away.