Hecate was the daughter of Greek pirate and a Ethiopian slave girl. They were the only survivors of a shipwreck that stranded them off the coast of Cuba on a deserted island. Her father named her Hecate after a Greek goddess of the Underworld in a moment of annoyance at having another mouth to feed. However he grew to love the girl as she grew older and learned the ways of both her peoples as well as how to survive. The three had a strange and happy life, away from the rest of the world. Then in Hecate’s 13th year, her father was bitten by a poisonous snake. He succumbed to the venom and was buried at sea with a huge funeral pyre. Her mother tried to go on, but died of a broken heart soon after. Hecate decided she no longer wanted to live on the island with the ghosts of her family and so she began to construct a raft and soon she set sail for her destiny.
Tormented by the mourning spirit of her mother, she began to hear other voices of the dead as well. She thought she was going mad when the storm hit her tiny canoe and dashed it to splinters. Amazingly enough, she awoke a few days later, being tended by strange tan-skinned people. Finding her conscious, they took her to a creature that could only be their god-king. In broken English, it explained that because of her ashen skin they thought she must be related to him. At first he was angry and demanded she be taken from his presence. Afraid to anger a rival god, they gave her shelter and she taught them some of her mother’s survival techniques and her father’s sailing no-how. Eventually the god-king realized she could be useful and demanded she be brought to him. When she was brought to face his horrid visage, he spoke not a word, merely studying her with his terrible snakes eyes, so much like the gaze of her father’s murderer. Then he lept upon her, taking as he saw fit and giving of his own blood to save her. After that, he took her officially as his bride, and eventually she grew to understand what they had become. Her father had told her stories of the Lamia, a blood-feasting monster of the ancient times. When she asked her husband about it, he shook his head and replied “Gangrel.” A century passed and she grew to cherish her new father/husband. Then came the Spaniards to Mexico. They destroyed her temple and her Sire. Deeply depressed, she went into torpor, sinking deep into the earth.
She later awoke in the middle of the 18th century to find the world different. She met more of her kind, the mysterious “Gangrel” and learned of other tribes. She learned the ways of the world and moved north with a young Gangrel acquaintance named Matthew. She settled in what would become Louisiana, near what would become Baton Rouge. There, she became a fur trader, braving the Lupines for a profit. Then one day, the Lupines decided they didn’t like to be braved and struck at her home. As she and Matthew, whom she had come to love, fought valiantly against the furred death engines, they realized it was a losing battle. Hecate tore apart Lupine after Lupine until she turned to see the last one. The dark furred beast became a man, holding Matthew’s limp form. It said to her, “You may have slain my pack, but your mate dies tonight…” and with that his hand became a claw and Matthew’s head rolled from his body. Then the beast took off into the forest. In a frenzy, Hecate became a wolf and took chase, but was stopped by the gun of an unfortunate hunter who was never heard from again. Try as she might she couldn’t find the wolf’s scent.
She spent several years tracking the Lupine, whose name she discovered was Elliot Bennette. Eventually she found him and took her vengeance in a slow death, but the fight left her scarred. She went to ground there, in 1775 in the shadow of a statue in Boston. She then arose in 1850 and finding New England not to her liking, she travelled west, ignoring the actions of the humans she had come to overlook. In the West, she found a type of justice she liked. Unfortunately, she no longer appeared human and was eventually tracked down and put into torpor and placed in a glass box in a darkened show tent, her new owners thinking she was a mummified freak of some kind, that sunlight only helped to deteriorate. Indeed many families thrilled to the sight of the terrible mummy. Then in the earliest part of the 20th century, she was sold to a museum in Milhaven, Maine. The museum burnt down in the late 70’s but fortunately, she had long since been placed in storage.
Eventually, curiosity drove her to awaken and leave the warehouse where she slept in 1987. She stayed in Milhaven, learning what she could of this strange new world, but mostly fearing the changes. Then one night in 1992, she saw him for the first time. A man who reminded her of Matthew, not just in appearance, but in scent and the very way he walked. She began to study him, planning to claim him as her Childe. She wrestled with herself, knowing the Gangrel would never accept him if he didn’t prove himself. She spoke to the ghosts of those long since dead for advice, and only recently decided to Embrace him and leave him to discover his nature and survive on his own. However, she keeps a close eye on him, praying to god she know longer knows for his safety.
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