Leona Flores

Advantages:
Lion-Hearted-What is there to fear when you have nothing left to lose? Leona gets +2 resistance to Intimidation and +1 modifier to Brawl
Wordsmith-Leona has always had a way with words, even when pissed off, granting +2 to Charisma when trying to sway others (namely thinbloods) to her side
Strike With Vengeance-Leona’s worship of Raguel, angel of vengeance, allows her to lash out against an opponent by raking her nails across their flesh, burning the target for a short time
Disadvantages:
Among Giants-Perhaps one of Leona's greatest obstacles as a hunter is her small stature. She can't rely on brawn, and therefore must rely on her wits to put down her targets.

History:
Leona’s life had been typical, a good Christian family with four beautiful girls headed for success. Leona was the third child, but everyone mistook her for the fourth given the fact that she never outgrew her babyface. And she ended up the shortest at 5”2. While the family went to church every Sunday and was devout, Leona never found herself sharing in her parents’ certainty in the existence of an all-powerful being. The angels, however, drew her attention. God was vague, they existed with purpose, or at least that was how Leona saw things. Her fascination with them and their many iterations led her to study the ways in which men and women throughout history had attempted to breathe life into these strange and powerful creatures. In time, Leona moved from her home in Texas to Griffith University where she majored in art history, a field that required a great deal of paper writing and persuasion.

Leona graduated and intended to stay in LA for the summer before returning home to sort out the next step of her life and education. It was a chance to spend some last few months of enjoying the summer with friends. One fateful night at an art exhibit, she caught the attention of an unnaturally handsome young man who claimed to be a collector. His knowledge of her field of study was suspect, yet somehow she found herself drawn in by him. Her friends encouraged her to have fun and enjoy the attention, have a summer fling while she was still in town. So she started seeing him, any skepticism swallowed by the neverending feeling of being the center of his world, and perhaps the pleasure filled nights helped her to unwind from all the accumulated stress from four years of university. He never could see her during the day though. He could only spend time with Leona after sunset.
As summer drew to a close, however, he began to grow anxious. He started to beg her to stay, asking her to find some way to prolong their relationship. Growing increasingly uncomfortable with this sudden possessiveness. Leona decided she would break it off next time she saw him. She would be leaving next week. She never even got to break it off. Before Leona even realized what was happening, his teeth were in her neck and she was out cold. When she awoke, she was overcome with a desperate thirst, and Leona got to learn firsthand what a tangled web she had entered. He got what he wanted, she stayed, desperate to try and gain a handle on her new situation.

Already furious that he had embraced her without consent, Leona’s resentment towards her Kindred lover, a Toreador she had learned (a Poseur to be precise), grew as he treated her like his dirty little secret. He would tell her that the Camarilla could not dare learn of her. That her mere existence was the sign of the end times, that it could not be discovered that he had sired a Thinblood. Months after her embrace, she did what she should have done long ago, she left. It was better than thinking of all the ways she wanted to hurt him for what he had done to her. Leona managed to find a group of fellow Thinbloods, with whom she squatted in a warehouse. They became her friends, they looked out for each other. And they didn’t mind that she seemed to be getting more and more absorbed in her fascination with the angels of her religious upbringing. Never prayed to God or tried to convert people, just seemed to mutter to herself before turning in for the day. It calmed her down, so it wasn’t like they were about to complain.

And then the Camarilla happened. It was a raid, for the singular purpose of killing Thinbloods. Leona heard the screams, saw the blood, felt the panic, the fear. The rage. Leona managed to get away. Her friends weren’t so lucky, and she found herself gravitating ever more towards the faith of her childhood. The resentment gnawed at her, the cruelty, the callousness. The Camarilla thought they could do whatever they liked to the Thinbloods, as if they weren’t people, as if they had been given a choice to enter unlife. The Kindred were the ones who needed to be punished, not them.

She prayed, prayed for a way to make them pay. Raguel, the angel of vengeance, spoke to her, perhaps not in the speak in your head way, but she felt the pull. If no one would fight for her people, she would. From then on, Leona has fashioned herself the very instrument of the Thinbloods retribution against the Camarilla, her sire, all those Kindred who wanted to treat them like dirt under their feet. She will hunt them all down, one by one, and create her own justice.

Scent: Endymion Perfume Oil