Oliver Lawrence

Prince of Seattle


Clan: Daeva
Covenant: Ordo Dracul
Bloodline: Toreador
Home Town: Liverpool, England
Birthdate: Feb 02, 1948
Age: 64
Apparent age: 30
DOD: 1980
Sex: Male
Race: Caucasian
Height: 6’2
Weight: 230

Lawrence is the defacto Ordo Dracul prince. He has little care to the spirituality of the Dracul and they have little care for his brazen politics, he was placed there in 1981 during a tumultuous time of troubles between the clans. They wanted a very strong leader and he gave them that, he wanted a title and protection to make his fortune. He held their city and as promised, he intends to return it to them after he takes control of Hollywood, one of the districts up for grabs during the split.

Lawrence was attacked for his treatment of the werewolf population, it’s as though they don’t matter at all in all cases pretaining to territory. Most vampires agree with his point of view but few leaders are hard enough to keep up those kind of politics. Odd point is that until a few years ago Lawrence had very good politics with the Wolves of Seattle, after a fallout where Cassandra, his former girl was forced to send her people to kill him because of his ring “daywalker” (Wolves are afraid of a powerful vampire that can walk in the daylight).

He’s also under investigation by the head sheriff of the Lancea Sanctum for being a young vampire with an abundance of power.


Somewhere in the great and old towering city of London, England, among the stories told here of Charles Dickens, those of William Shakespeare, all the lives that have ever been lived and unfurled on these ancient streets, of all the great stories told I seek to chronicle a simple one, a story which hasn’t yet met its conclusion and shows no signs of doing so soon, here is the beginning of the continuing story of Oliver Lawrence. A boy was born in 1947, he lived as a boy does, in between the many floggings of the school yard and those at home, and more life for him was lived in the theater than was discovered anywhere else, his ears were from a young age trained to listen through the incessant yelling of an alcoholic father and a mother obsessed with seeing her son the next Humphrey Bogart that most of his life was spent in and out of acting schools his mother couldn’t afford. His stays in those were short lived as his father would drink away the time allotted by what little money they had. He and his mother had come back from watching Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho when the police officer came around and told them he had jumped off a bridge.
It’s difficult to talk about how Oliver felt about his father’s suicide, what could you say about a man that did nothing but ground the dreams of his mother and increase the wrath of his mother upon Lawrence with every night of his drinking. However, Lawrence had love for the man, he was the boy’s father, tears were spilled on his closed coffin remembering the slurred and whiskey scented lullabies of infancy.
His life continued much as it had before his father’s death up into his teenage years, the bills in his house were paid with the occasional commercial and there was a break from school, auditions, constant scrutiny from acting coaches and the harsh words of his mother, there would be a film, 2001 A Space Odyssey and it was a time that was more like sex than sleep. It was escape; there was something in being someone else for even a few hours that made all the fear and tension disappear. Many times in one of London’s cheaper theaters, his eyes a slave to The Seventh Seal or La Strada, he’d weep in spite of what was going on screen, he’d cry for his own sake, then leave the theater somewhat rejuvenated for the burden waiting for him outside like a school yard pederast.
His breaks came during his twenties, the height of his career was spent at his own leisure which made the auditions so much easier without the contrast of that the director wanted and what his mother demanded. He was much more fluid in his talents, roles came but none of which matches starring roles, he did some stunt work, he worked as some of the henchmen in bond films but without any speaking parts and always made up as his looks might well outshine those of Roger Moore. As it turns out, no fame would come to Lawrence as an actor, always missing the starring role, always forced to play some nameless character with no speaking roles, never to act out the art which boiled in his heart like young love, the acting didn’t pay well, between the lessons and the cost of stunt training and the language training (traveling), he had enough to catch his bills and the occasional picture.
He did a lot of modeling when the debt on he and his mother piled up, debt which was hard on the both of them, approaching his thirties her battle with lupus was decreasing his life as his age was closing the window of his modeling career which was all he could do to buy the numerous pills and sit beside her in her constant hospital visits. He would bring her the VCR and sit with her and watch American Westerns like The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance and silent comedies of Charlie Chaplin, however these screenings in the hospital were the opposite of the uplifting ones he normally frequented, these films were related more to the suffering of his mother and his eyes trying in vain to hold back tears and his hands quick to try and keep her from noticing by swatting them away.
Approaching the 1980s the numerous parties and social events that conspire to make finding work easier found themselves rich to Oliver who a champion when in the spotlight was a perfect delight at these parties. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him, and with a face so handsome, the sting of thirty was long delayed in his looks. However, about this time, there was a growing trend among the parties; Cocaine was quickly becoming main stream among the rich and youthful which Oliver was quickly ceasing to be. Questions started forming, about Oliver, spread by the usual envious which follow one so loved. What films had he done? Where was his money? How old was this chap anyway? Wasn’t a man of his age to be married?
Truth was that marriage eluded Oliver, the women he frequented were like him in the sense that their love lives were selected like their clothing, as reflections of what they wanted other people to think of them, and Oliver being overly rapt in attention to himself never found the time to open himself up to a lady of marrying type.
By about 1980, the party scene had gone and left him behind, however the lingering monkey on his back was begging his company, Cocaine…
Truth be told there is hope for an actor of his age and talent, even an unknown, a female would be bottom shelf by this age but numerous male actors didn’t find their true calling until maybe forty, however none of them were addicted to cocaine.
Poor, estranged from his dying mother, he consented to meet a lady drug dealer at a station in Germany, and it was going to be his intention to rob her. However, a different set of stars blossomed in the sky, and this story would take a violent turn toward the bizarre…

Oliver Lawrence

LA Broken CjHelton