Where is a man’s ambition? In his heart? What if his heart be still? In his blood? What if that blood is clotted and stolen? The Children of Midas are dead men who suck ambition from the blood and marrow of the living. Like the gods of the Aztecs, they can turn blood to gold and gold to blood.

The Adrestoi are creatures of the city, but more than that, creatures of its elite. They become one with its monoliths, command kine and beast alike. In death, they retain the vigor of life, but their will to power is dependent on the power of their blood. Fed well, an Adrestos is an irresistible force of command and conquest. Should he fail at the hunt, though, he becomes weak and easily swayed.

History and Culture: The Adrestoi are a young bloodline, the product of their progenitor’s fierce will and the mutations that ancestor wrought in his own Blood. He spawned his brood and line young, and they have evolved together. In the Detroit of the 1980s, Paul Gordon was a man with a mission. Amid the decay of the great automotive firms and the fires that swept regularly through the neighborhoods where he grew up, Paul learned to impose will over fear. He traded his father’s blue collar for white, and he went off to law school. When he returned, a lawyer with a Georgetown degree, he started to make friends. The kind of friends who appreciated a white collar speckled with a little blood. The vampire wasn’t far behind. He was looking for a servant, a cover, but Paul wore the monster down, manipulated and fought against him until the vampire Embraced him less by choice than force. Paul’s sire was young to begin with, an Ancilla too used to having mortal crutches. Once the attorney became the vampire, he made short and bloody work of his sire. Their merged blood changed fast, and altered in Paul’s image. Invigorated, alive with cannibalized and mutated Vitae, he experienced an urge unusual among young Damned. He wanted to share. So he changed his name to Adrestos, the son of the legendary King Midas, and he Embraced the first of his line, the Adrestoi.

The most important ritual of the Adrestoi is the Hunt. All Kindred must hunt to survive, but the children of Midas find that their very character weakens when runs dry the Vitae. They become slothful and slow. Yet, that strength of character is required to pursue the hunt… one failure, one moment of sentimentality, one missed opportunity could doom the Adrestoi to a long mental rot. The Children of Midas celebrate the Hunt once per week, on the night before the Lancea Sanctum’s Sabbath.

Paul Adrestos keeps a granite tomb on his estate, filled with his failures, fledglings whose minds collapsed early under his harsh tutelage. Each childe he takes is thrust into that tomb, to fend off and feed upon the horrors until he has mastered his blood sufficiently to escape. The battle typically takes multiple nights, usually culminating in the nascent vampire acquiring sufficient mastery of Protean to escape or diablerizing enough of his Kindred to force the doors through sheer will. Sometimes, it is not the new childe, but one of the formerly mindless who claws his way free. Adrestos welcomes him by the name of the vampire he destroyed, and celebrates him as a prodigal returned.

Reputation: The children of Midas are known for results, but also for obsession. Many Ventrue look at the hunt as a disgraceful necessity, something untidy and to be kept private. The Adrestoi hunt in packs, instead, and those who have joined the Lancea Sanctum are often perceived as zealots as a consequence.

Those with no such allegiance are often suspected of affliction with Malkavia or simply to have become too monstrous too fast. Where they are recognized as a bloodline, they are sometimes pitied. When encountered alone, they are often feared. Pitied or feared, Adrestoi are also well-liked. After all, they have a lot to offer. If they hunt frequently and almost openly… well, that habit is no less distasteful than the predilections of some of the other lines. Their tenacity, seemingly wired in the blood, makes them effective allies even when very young; for just as their weakness drains Vitae, it conserves their inner strength. They can turn anything to gold, given their fill of blood…

Long before western civilization had real knowledge of the African continent and the mysteries within, gods walked the earth. Sometimes alien and bizarre, these gods interjected themselves into the lives of the mortals throughout the area. They were known to take on widely different forms, and most of their appearances did not resemble the typical dark-skinned native African. Just as varied were the stories of creation each tribe or culture attributed to their patrons; some legends claimed that humanity sprang from the earth or grew from unorthodox parts of their god’s anatomy.

The Lugbara were, at one time, a culture spread throughout areas including modern day Uganda and the Republic of Congo. They worshipped a god named Adroa, a being of two aspects, good and evil, his body split in half. Half of his form — one arm, one leg, one eye, and half of his torso — resided in their world. The other half existed in the heavens. He was tall and white, always looking like he was near death. His offspring were the Adroanzi. Also said to appear like they had only half of a body, they were visible when viewed from one side and vanished when turned to view the other.

The Adroanzi had more contact with the tribes of the Lugbara than their deific parent ever conducted. They would protect the people from wildlife and malevolent bandits, they would keep watch over their chosen, and they would ensure benevolent harvests for the most worthy tribes. They were not, however, wholly benign patrons. Stories told by the Lugbara warned against trying to look at the god-children. A mere glance would infuriate the Adroanzi, prompting them to kill and devour the offender immediately. Even more mysterious tales were told of the homes of the Adroanzi. From time to time, the tribesmen would find groves of demented trees, full of perverted plants that could not be found anywhere else in their lands. Those who ventured into these groves returned with horrifying stories of venomous flowers, carnivorous trees and crawling roots. All of these plants dripped with blood, and were growing from or around disturbed graves and bodies of those claimed by the gods.

History and Culture: Long before Europeans made their way into the interior of Africa and interfered in the affairs of the indigenous cultures, a number of vampires took the roles of gods. While many required their human subjects to perform various rituals or provide different tributes, most of them appeared to be often benevolent. Almost universally, this benevolence was simply given to keep the mortal tribes from fleeing or fighting back. Thus it was that the Adroanzi “cared for” the Lugbara tribes.

A number of these supposed gods had a culture and a form of society of their own. Throughout central Africa, most of these vampires conducted games and competitions through their devoted tribes. Tribes would wage war upon each other, challenge each other for land and resources, and demand rights of breeding from the other tribes. In most cases, these tribes were simply going about their own business. However, the Adroanzi never left their subjects unmolested for long. They would command their chieftains, sour the local wildlife (forcing the tribe to migrate), or subtly instigate aggressions. With the intrusion of European outsiders, the tribes’ cultures began to change. Some were decimated by the invaders, some incorporated the teachings of others. Christianity, however, was the benevolent poison to the Adroanzi’s carefully cultivated Lugbara.

The Adroazni did not take well or adjust easily to the shifting cultures, introductions of new religions, and emergence into a larger world. A significant number of them perished in battles against the outsiders and a sizeable portion fell into torpor, hoping to be swept up to the heavens with the rest of the gods once revered by the people of Africa. Only a minuscule minority of these vampires made any serious attempt to integrate themselves with the Europeans or Asians, and with the world around them in general. The youngest and most impressionable, who did make the effort, quickly discovered a niche they could fill.

Through the decades and centuries of ruling the mortals from the position of gods of nature, they had accumulated a great deal of skill in manipulating plants. These manipulations certainly bore the mark of the vampiric condition, and there was one beneficial side effect to this practice. The Adroanzi became known as Lacrimists because their horticultural experiments produced mandragora plants more reliably than any other known practice. From these mandragora, the Adroanzi were able to extract quantities of lacrima. A rare delicacy among Kindred, Adroanzi were able to barter great favors and vast resources for their lacrima. It took very little time for a few entrepreneurial Lacrimists to make the transition into the societies outside of Africa.

Initially, these vampires traveled with and settled near the Kindred who had first discovered them among the African tribes. Thus, they were most prevalent near colonies controlled by the Grémio de Corajoso. Where the Gardeners went, the Grémio forged mutually beneficial relationships. The guild protected the Adroanzi while they capitalized on their association with the peddlers of Kindred vice. Few knew of the Gardeners’ origins, and those with such knowledge rarely cared after their first sip of lacrima. A few of the fallen gods attempted to return to their old ways, especially those rare elder Adroanzi who had ventured out into the world. On the heels of mortal explorers, these vampires sought out cultures and civilizations that had not suffered the same dilution theirs had. Attempting to enslave new villages, manipulate other Kindred, and reestablish their divine place over mortals rarely met with success.

This time, in the relative public eye of Kindred society, the acts of a number of Adroanzi elders cast a shadow over the bloodline. They developed a reputation as maniacal monsters who threatened the Masquerade. When they did occasionally find success and enthrall a remote village, explorers and invaders swiftly put an end to the oppression. Most of the bloodline was hunted down. The temptations of lacrima became tainted with suspicion. The majority of Kindred who learned of the substance through dealings with the Gardeners suspected foul play. Most wondered how many vampires had become unsuspectingly blood bound to the African elders. Even the most reputable Gardeners ended up running from Kindred domains, fearing destruction. Memories clouded by torpor, information inaccurately passed from one generation to the next, and the passage of time eventually allowed them to return from hiding.

Modern Adroanzi differ very little from the members of the bloodline who existed centuries ago. They are consistently reminded of their divine origins and take great pride in the fact that they still possess their mastery over nature and the flora around them. Between the uneasiness they cause in social situations and their utter contempt for humanity’s decision to abandon them for Christianity, the Gardeners tend to isolate themselves with personal pursuits. These activities commonly involve the exploration of various types of mandragora and the varieties of lacrima they can produce, but they can also bury themselves in the past. Feeling such a connection to the divine spurs a number of these vampires to delve into their own history, searching for how and why they fell from the grace of the other gods.

If the Adroanzi are more prevalent in any single covenant, it is in the Circle of the Crone. Lost rites, connections to ancient gods, and bloody tradition certainly appeal to many of them. The rest of the covenants generally attract only small numbers of the Gardeners. These also tend to be younger members of the bloodline. Searching any path that might offer answers to their past and longing for stability in a group separated from Man, they spread across the other covenants. Kindred aware of the bloodline’s history are always surprised to hear about one of the Adroanzi joining the Lancea Sanctum. However, the Sanctified are, after all, certainly not like the devout Christians of the breathing world. Indeed, younger Gardeners are far more open to exploring the darker side of the Sanctified.

Mandragora and Lacrima
Mandragora (sometimes called “mandrakes”) are plants that have been infused with Kindred Vitae. They are not ghouls and do not have any sentience of their own, but they do have intrinsic value to many Kindred. These warped and perverted plants produce small amounts of a bloody sap known as Lacrima (also referred to as “mandrake tears”). Lacrima is a unique substance that Kindred may consume. In fact, due to its compelling taste and properties that allow it to be blended with human blood, the rust-colored sap is sought out as a rare delicacy. Creating mandragora is an exceedingly difficult process that takes months and requires specific conditions for the plant to transform into this aberrant thing.

Mandragora and lacrima are discussed in more detail in Ghouls, but in brief: A plant can become a mandragora if a vampire feeds it blood for a long period of time. Not every plant becomes one (most die, in fact), and there is no set formula for how much Vitae is required to make the change. Larger plants require more blood, yes, but it’s possible that a smaller patch of greenery becomes voracious and sucks up whatever the vampire gives it, while an oak grows sickly and dies after only a few nights of the treatment. Mandrakes sometimes gain a bit of mobility, and slowly grow toward sources of blood, much like normal plants turn toward sunlight.

Reputation: Most Kindred find the Adroanzi to be eccentric and deviant peddlers of their liquid sin. Some elder Kindred may remember the years of ambitious and egotistical Adroanzi insisting that they were the direct offspring of a god, but very few would have had (or currently remember) direct confrontations with the “lost gods” trying to reclaim their glory. That being said, they tend to be viewed as novelties; worth attention only when the tiny bottles of lacrima are being passed around. Kindred who choose to roam the wilderness might have the most need to raise a conflict with Adroanzi in their own territory. Wherever the Gardeners conduct their experiments with plants, the property or landscape is littered with failed attempts — dead vegetation that take years to decompose, pools of bloody, pulpy, putrid and liquefied plants, and aggressive, bloated insects that scour the area of any other, more normal, insects. These disposal sites and groves for experimentation certainly cause a taint on the land around them, scaring away wildlife and placing a strain on anyone who depends on that land.

On the other hand, movers and shakers within the Kindred community feel very fortunate when they can contact and maintain a relationship with one of the Gardeners. Simply possessing lacrima can elevate a vampire’s reputation; having a regular method to distribute tiny vials of the substance to favored allies can place a vampire’s admirers in awe.

Concepts: Vintner to the elders, poisoner, herbalist, inner city pharmacist, drug dealer, graveyard gardener, god of the dead forest, monster of the woods, wood stake weaponsmith, African refugee protector

Hidden in the shadows of every great university town in the Western world, a group of Kindred wage war against ignorance, their own nature and the ever-hungry maw of time itself. As the Greeks once used the agon, contests of physical strength and endurance, to test the mettle of a person, so do the Agonistes, a bloodline wholly composed of historians, philosophers, psychologists and scientists, test themselves nightly in intellectual struggle against the forces of the world that would keep Kindred forever in the dark. Unfortunately, those forces are legion, and even the very Kindred the Agonistes claim to help often thank the Polemicists’ efforts with violence, hatred and mistrust.

Most importantly, the Agonistes form a rare solid cornerstone within the often muddled Kindred historical tradition. They are the world’s foremost experts on the Kindred condition known as torpor, an expertise highly valued by the oldest (and often, by extension, most influential) members of every clan and covenant. The Agonistes are also, however, fervent proponents of education, insistent that only by understanding the past can Kindred rise above the ignorance in which many domains seem content to wallow. The line’s erstwhile beneficiaries find this philosophy, combined with the intellect and erudition these Kindred bring to their arguments, condescending at best and heretical at worst. Most Agonistes live furtive, hidden unlives, anonymously publishing long philosophical tracts while working to avoid ruffling the wrong feathers, gathering in small enclaves with the only other Kindred who truly appreciate their work: other members of the bloodline.

While few Kindred can actually claim to have ever met one of these reclusive scholars, most knowledgeable Mekhet have heard of the Agonistes. Many elders make locating a member of this line a primary imperative, even after centuries of putting the lineage’s libraries to the torch.

The Agonistes insist that no greater foolishness exists than to allow knowledge to slip from the world. To combat the erosive effects of the Fog of Ages and simple attrition over time, the Agonistes tirelessly seek out and collect rare lore and hidden histories, copying their discoveries, debating the ramifications and publishing philosophies to be disseminated among the greater Kindred public without priority given to any geography, faith, gender or age. The Agonistes line was founded on this precept, and many Mekhet over the centuries have flocked to the Agonistes’ banner. Their great struggle is not waged simply against the Fog of Eternity and the slow trudge of history, however; Agonistes battle mortals, mages and even other Kindred who would hide great truths from the rest of the world.

Despite the number of attacks their libraries have endured, this millennia-old bloodline boasts a detailed and rich history leading back to its inception. Widely circulated legends indicate that the line was founded during the height of the Camarilla. A group of Mekhet elders from Egypt, Athens, Carthage and Rome banded together in an unknown location in Greece to share the knowledge they had garnered in their studies, seeking a method to avoid the Second Death or miti- gate its attendant madness. Over the course of years of nightly discussions, the Shadows came to a consensus: to understand torpor they must embrace it. Together, they conceived a telepathic rite that would, theoretically, allow one of them to remain lucid during torpor and remember the experience afterwards. One of these elders, a philosopher from Anatolia, agreed to make the first attempt, and slipped into their ritually prepared torpor, exploring the Lethean Fog of Eternity for decades. He was forever changed by the experience.

Upon awakening, the philosopher found that his Vitae itself had been distorted, but he could not understand exactly how or why. He immediately took up what he termed his agon, teaching his fellow philosophers the lessons he had learned in dreams, altering their blood as well, and leading them through their own exegeses of torpor. The ancient Agonistes were soon delving into the unconscious fog with regularity, learning how to manipulate it and successfully assisting influential elders cope with its worst side effects, soon gaining significant prestige. While their power has waned, waxed and waned again over the two millennia of their existence, each Polemicist enjoys some small part of that initial esteem to this night. Many members of the line have made their unlives by guiding a single desperate but powerful elder through the sleep of ages.

Yet the altruism of the Agonistes remains a pleasant fairytale elders tell themselves when they feel the first cravings for Kindred blood. The Agonistes of the modern nights are no more selfless than the desperate Mekhet scholars in Greece a millennia ago who sought to stave off their own torpor. The service of an Agoniste never comes cheap, as he demands his elder customers describe every facet of that elder’s unlife and history if she is to benefit from his preservative powers. Savvy Polemicists often use this as a baseline, offering to perform rituals with even greater benefits in exchange for mentorship in esoteric sorceries or Disciplines, a price many desperate elders are quick to pay.

As the credulous patient rattles off centuries of secrets and conspiracies in the belief that it will protect her, the Agoniste records the knowledge to add to the bloodline’s massive library. Perhaps more frightening, the Agonistes consider their torpor-fighting psychological exercises far from complete, and many elders unknowingly become experiments themselves as the Polemicists fine-tune their technique without worry that anyone will notice a problem for centuries, perhaps longer. Finally, the Agonistes recognize fully the power that their patients willingly if not eagerly provide them with. While extremely dangerous, the practice of sabotaging a malevolent elder’s torpor is always tempting, and has brought more than one member of the line to ruin.

In modern nights, many of the Agonistes are bound by obligation, waiting for slumbering elders to rise so that they may fulfill their promise of revival. They continue to broker their deals, assembling histories from the testimony of Kindred frantic to stay whole even as the sleep of ages calls. Many delve again and again into the sleep themselves, honing their ritual skills and working to ensure that the whole of their assembled knowledge is well protected.

Nickname: Polemicists

Covenant: Members of the Agoniste line tend toward the intellectual and occult-minded. They seek out ancient secrets and hidden lore with unparalleled zeal. Therefore, it is no surprise that most tend to fall into the Ordo Dracul, the Sanctified or the Circle of the Crone.

The Order seems most fond of the Polemicists, as these knowledgeable Kindred possess some of the most extensive stores of Kindred history and philosophy, and few Dragons doubt the uncontested expertise of the Agonistes in the subject of Kindred psychology. The Agonistes often find the Ordo Dracul more receptive to their ideas than the other covenants, and the Coils exhibit an acute allure to Agonistes actively involved in the great struggle of the line. Elder Polemicists, however, often find that they must take great care to ensure their pupils do not forsake their mission for the Great Work, or worse, confuse the two.

Agonistes with less interest in Kindred physiology and Hermetic pseudo-science are often drawn to the Circle of the Crone. The Circle, they say, draws those Agonistes with an interest in doing rather than thinking. Acolyte Polemicists take to the mission of the bloodline with a visceral zeal, sifting through the covenant’s endless oral histories and divining the psychological underpinnings of the rituals of Crùac, taking comfort in the historicity of being a member of the world’s most ancient covenant. Jungian Polemicists bring a peculiar form of faith to the Circle of the Crone, paying homage to the collective unconscious and offering sacrifices to favored archetypes.

The relationship of the Sanctified and the Agonistes has long been rife with distrust. While many hand-copied tomes resting in the line’s libraries lend credence to the covenant’s history and philosophy, many more undermine it. Texts dating from the time of Longinus and before often clearly contradict the Sanctified’s teachings. Historically, the Lancea Sanctum has burned more of the Agonistes’ libraries and treatises than the other major covenants combined. Yet Agonistes anxious to plumb the hidden depths of the Church (or sometimes even hungry for a sense of meaning to their unlives beyond the endless Struggle) continue to enter the covenant, and the Lancea Sanctum continues to accept them, recognizing the line’s incredible ability to help elders cope with torpor. In addition, more than a few Theban Rituals over the centuries have been unearthed thanks to the tireless investigations of the Agonistes, and many Sanctified Kindred believe that these findings are miraculous indications of divine favor.

The Invictus and the Carthian Movement, despite their best efforts, claim relatively few Polemicists; the Agonistes, generally speaking, simply don’t get along with many of the Invictus or the Carthians very well. Kindred of the Invictus tend to dislike histories that contradict their own traditional tales, and are willing to destroy anyone who espouses them, even if the Invictus Kindred know that the offending tales are true. Furthermore, the Dynastic Houses of the Invictus make reliance upon the rituals of the Agonistes unnecessary — and the inheritors of a house are more fully trusted than any Mekhet outsider could be.

The Carthian Movement, on the other hand, demands activity from the Agonistes that many are unwilling to engage in, since it distracts from their studies. The political agitations of the covenant have nothing to do with the great struggle of the bloodline, and few will choose to deny it just to satisfy the Carthians. In addition, many Kindred of the Movement find the tendency of Agonistes to spend much of their time in study of distant history to be insufferably academic, in real-world political terms.

Appearance: Most Agonistes prefer utilitarian fashions that combine comfort with respectability, adopting uniforms typical of the academic institutions they embed themselves in. Glasses are unusually common, though with the Agonistes’ penchant for heightened senses, glasses are surely an affectation. Younger Agonistes may dress in prep-school chic: a blazer and tie with khaki slacks for men, a sweater vest or cardigan with a collared shirt and skirt for women.

The bloodline originally spawned along the Mediterranean coast, and most elder Polemicists bear distinctly Mediterranean features. In the constant hunger for brave, intelligent new blood, however, the line has spread widely in the millennia since its inception; tonight, Agonistes hail from across the Western world, though most remain of European descent.

Haven: Libraries and museums are by far the most cherished havens for Agonistes. Since there are only so many libraries in the world suitable for hosting an undead predator during the daylight hours, most Agonistes happily resort to keeping a large, well-stocked personal store of tomes. Agoniste havens vary greatly based on a number of factors, most especially location and age.

The Polemicists keep havens culturally appropriate to whatever area of the world they happen to be in, and elder Agonistes often have well-furnished, if understated, homes, paid for through the wealth and favors of the Kindred they have eased into torpor. Surprisingly few members of the line currently reside in Greece, the traditional homeland of the line, though the catacombs of Italy and France, as well as the underground cities of Anatolia have all historically served as havens for the Polemicists, and elders of the line remain entombed in them to this night.

Background: Agonistes overwhelmingly come from academic backgrounds. Whether psychologists, graduate students or tenured professors at the time of the Embrace, the Kindred of this line are universally familiar with the intricacies of research and scholarship. They are not all dusty librarians, however; field archeologists and explorers populate the ranks with hardy Kindred while former lecturers and priests add a socially competent force to the line. Most Agonistes hail from the middle or upper class, and many have at least some training, either academic or practical, in psychology before the Embrace.

The Agonistes line attracts many Mekhet elders, especially of the Ordo Dracul, who seek an Avus to train them in the ways of avoiding torpor. The bloodline may welcome these elders, though only after they have proven themselves through rigorous examination. A desire to diminish the effects of the sleep of ages isn’t qualification enough to become a member, and many of these Kindred are simply offered ritual service instead.

Character Creation: Mental Attributes and Skills are universally prized among the Polemicists, and any vampire Embraced directly into the line likely has devoted her primary points to these groups. Social Attributes are common, as well, especially among vampires who experienced firsthand the competitive world of academe. Common skills for the Agonistes include Academics, Medicine, Occult, Science and Survival. Psychologist Polemicists often possess Empathy and Persuasion, while surprisingly savvy academicians possess Politics, Socialize and even Streetwise. The Mental Merits Encyclopedic Knowledge, Eidetic Memory and Meditative Mind are all appropriate for members of this bloodline. Because of the tight-knit structure of the line’s enclaves, rare is the Agoniste without a Mentor or some Contacts among the lineage. Among the Kindred who can purchase it, the Library Merit is a must. Most Agonistes possess the Language Merit, with Greek and Latin being the most commonly understood languages among the line, followed by English, French and German.

Organization: The Polemicists maintain libraries around the world, nestled hidden in the shadows of Western intellectual institutions, training their childer in historical record-keeping, archival management and academic research. Many Agonistes spend years learning to become the bloodline’s representatives, combining the line’s propensity for Dominate with a thorough knowledge of the inner workings of the Kindred mind.

The Agonistes bloodline suffers from the unfortunate irony that they desire solitude and companionship in equal doses. Solitude and silence are necessary for serious academic work, yet most Polemicists demand nearby Kindred on par with their intellect to bounce theories and theses off as well as elder Kindred to act as clients. Thus, Agonistes tend to found small, secretive colonies called conservatories in cities with multiple major universities. These enclaves tend to be large communal havens filled with small personal living spaces for the Polemicists in residence or simple buildings where the Polemicists of the city gather to discuss their work.

The Agonistes are surprisingly structured for academicians, and, similar to university professors, are constantly expected to produce new works on Kindred history, psychology, theology, physiology or mythology. The bloodline is divided into colleges by area of study (the colleges of mythology and theology are the least respected of the colleges, while the colleges devoted to torpor and kindred psychology are exceptionally exclusive), each presided over by a Dean, whose chief duty lies in directing failing Agonistes into new areas of scholarship. The Polemicists deem the head of each enclave “Professor,” and an Agoniste responsible for one of the lineage’s vast repositories of information is known as an Archivist. Officially, loans between archives must pass through the Master Archivist, a unique title in the bloodline, but that requirement is ignored with increasing regularity in the modern nights, a development that the current Master Archivist is threatening to curb through her prodigious knowledge of sorcery.

From the outside, as a line, the Agonistes seem strikingly loyal. While as much backbiting and snobbery occurs among the Agonistes as in mortal academe, members of the bloodline know more than enough of their line’s history to understand that as frequently as they are sought out for their torpor rituals, the Agonistes are as often persecuted for their knowledge and the openness with which they share it. When faced with an outside threat, individual quibbles vanish, and conservatories display a united face to their enemies. As a result of this loyalty and the line’s willingness to share information other Kindred consider proprietary, the major p covenants have an uncomfortable and suspicious relationship with the uncannily useful Polemicists. Perhaps unfortunately, the suspicions of the covenants often prove to be true, and few Agonistes are truly devoted to their covenant over the Great Struggle. Indeed, the current Master Archivist of the line, a Londoner and noted Theban Sorcerer named Bianca Tilley, was recently expelled from her position in the Sanctified when she began displaying a knowledge of Crúac.

Concepts: Excitable archivist, single-minded museum librarian, stubborn art historian, immoral psychologist, jaded hipster, beleaguered corporate Polemicist, Jungian film junky, furtive grave robber, heroin-addict-turned-torpor-addict.

History

The libraries of the Agonistes boast the most complete record of Kindred history in the world, though, based as they are on the testimony of vampires, many of the historical texts are contradictory and unreliable. While difficulty in the transport of information between domains and the tendency of other Kindred to secrecy combine to make sure not even the eldest Agonistes have the whole story, rare is even the neonate Agoniste who does not know the accepted history of her lineage.

The Agonistes are a scholarly community, however, and numerous papers have been circulated among the line questioning the verity of the tale of the gathering of that first Mekhet enclave centuries ago. One recently published thesis, for example, claims that the fact that no two early histories of the line share the same name for the founder indicates a possible conspiracy of falsehood in the line’s early nights. The most famous alternate interpretation of the Agonistes’ founding is alleged by the Mnemonic Institute, which insists that the line’s quest for knowledge was inspired (or, among particularly radical Polemicists, founded) by the pseudo-mythical Agonista, an Athenian Kindred supposedly mentioned in Platonic-era documents. Most Polemicists dismiss this tale as fancy, despite the respect the Mnemonic Institute has garnered in its exploration of the depths of torpor. Another controversial dissertation indicates that the founders of the bloodline were themselves the victims of torpor-induced mental damage, and that the original purpose of the bloodline (and the inevitable outcome of its practices, still to fully manifest) is utterly unknowable. The destruction of many early documents of the bloodline over the centuries has almost ensured that no Polemicist will unearth a definitive answer to these questions, and members of the bloodline wage venomous wars of words over questions of Agoniste history.

In the first centuries after the bloodline’s inception, the Agonistes Embraced almost exclusively from the scholars and scribes of humanity, and most Polemicists kept an additional scribe as a ghoul. The goal of the Great Struggle, to prevent the loss of history and the Kindred cultural memory, was accomplished primarily through the espousal of detailed journals and notes taken by Agonistes spread across the Kindred Courts of the Mediterranean coast and Near East. Most Princes kept an Agonistes as an advisor and witness to her greater glory. While personal journals and Court histories were kept with the elder who had them scribed, the Polemicists carefully penned and painstakingly illuminated copies to be sent to the Master Archivist, a Kindred who resided in a massive library in Rome. After the collapse of the Camarilla, the Agonistes carefully moved what texts they could retrieve from the archives to Constantinople, the Queen of Cities, filling a massive palace with the collected tomes of their history. The line spread eastwards, not only to Constantinople, but also to Eastern Europe and the Hungarian Kingdom, the Levant, and into Egypt and northern Africa. Building on the precepts of the founder’s Exegesis ritual, the Agonistes line developed many of the earliest known defenses against torpor in the West during this time.

The Crusades strained and finally broke the power of the Agonistes, and the fire that preceded the sacking of Constantinople in 1204 saw the utter destruction of the archives, the Final Death of the Master Archivist and the end of more than half a millennium of Agoniste power among the Courts and scholars of the Queen of Cities A secondary result of the Crusades is known throughout the bloodline as the Silencing of the Middle East. Before the Crusades, the Agonistes existed in large numbers in the Levant, but the tenuous lines of communication between the Eastern Polemicists and their Western brethren were cut by centuries of war. Attempts to reclaim a foothold in the region failed time and again, and have yet to succeed. The Kindred of modern Istanbul are strangely distrustful of the Polemicists, and almost always refuse them entrance to the domain. This remains a constant thorn in the bloodline’s side, as many would dearly love to explore the labyrinths, catacombs and libraries of the former Queen of Cities.

The loss of the archives forever altered the path of the bloodline. No longer content to hoard their hoary knowledge, the Polemicists began their vigorous campaign to educate the society of the night. The great struggle of the line, they reasoned, could never be won by amassing knowledge in a single, central location. As they spread into the universities of Central and Western Europe, the Agonistes devoted themselves and their resources to copying rare texts of Kindred origin and spreading them to as many disparate libraries as possible, hoping to combat the entropic nature of fire, war, superstition and neglect by ensuring that the loss of a copy of a work did not mean the loss of the work itself. Furthermore, the Agonistes used the printing press, invented in the 15th century, to spread their amassed knowledge among the domains of Europe. This sudden spread of previously forgotten history was met with intense distrust, leading to acrimonious conflict and, in some domains, outright violence. Inspired by Kindred of various factions, the Agonistes became a favored scapegoat in certain domains, accused of blasphemies great and small. Eventually, many members of the line went underground, distributing their hard-won knowledge from the shadows.

The Second World War, which forever changed the face of Europe for Kindred and kine, resulted in the destruction of a dozen Agonistes conservatories and archives and the loss of centuries of work. While the bloodline still struggles to make up for the lost efforts of ages, the damage may never be completely repaired. Detractors of the line claim that while the Agonistes have always presented a threat to the Masquerade, their efforts to find, copy and trade in Kindred history makes them ever more dangerous. The Agonistes, for their part, ignore the naysayers; the struggle must continue.

Even still, throughout the troubled history of the line, rumors of the Agonistes’ talents attract the attention of worried elders, and they are approached time and again for the ritual protection they can provide. Every time the line seems to find itself on the cusp of shame and destruction, an elder somewhere lends a member the power she needs to survive and rebuild, in exchange for the guarantee of a safe and whole return from torpor.

Society and Culture

When a prospective student of the Agonistes is ushered into their ranks, her Avus or sire carefully prepares her. She feels the thick touch of olive oil dabbed across her brow, the subtle contractions of the damp bandages she has been wrapped in and the cold, unyielding table against her back. As the presiding Agoniste places his hand on her forehead and begins to speak to her in a low, monotone voice, she slips away, only then realizing that she is about to enter torpor.

The secrets she learns from the experience that follows banish any residual resentment.

The Agonistes combine the trappings of ancient Greek culture with the structures and titles of university life. Members fuse the primal respect of the active mind and body (and thereby reject torpor, the very essence of the inactive mind and body) with the cut-throat backbiting of academic politics. Ideally, status in the bloodline is based on intellect and ability, as illustrated through the quality of work ‘published’; in reality, most Agonistes realize that its not the quality of work published but the quantity and breadth of distribution that gains acknowledgement within the line. Thus often a hard-working ancilla who publishes a well-researched and well-reasoned polemic once every decade is ignored in favor of the neonate whose scribbled writings of barely factual historical notes gleaned from his mentor’s teachings inspires excited conversation among the Kindred at Elysium. In short, it is more important to get other Kindred interested and involved in the struggle than it is to do quality work, if only barely. Of course, if that same neonate’s writings are easily dismissed and contradicted by established fact, she is spreading disinformation, one of the line’s cardinal sins. Young, hotshot Agonistes under pressure from their mentors to perform often carefully toe the line between the sensationally true and the fantastically false.

The mentor-pupil relationship forms the core of interactions between members of the line, though it is not unusual for a Polemicist to take on several pupils at once, or the eldest member of an Agoniste conservatory to be deferred to as mentor to the conservatory as a whole (sometimes an Agoniste even performs this function). Bloodline gatherings begin as reserved affairs, as members exchange information about their current projects or philosophical conundrums, but after business is out of the way, an Agoniste gathering builds an odd self-celebratory manic energy. The Polemicists are known to prefer only the finest libations filtered through the blood of their hyper-literate guests.

During the Middle Ages, the Agonistes spent many of their nights in silent scribbling, delicately copying thousands of pages of ancient text by hand. Centuries later, the Polemicists bent over presses, carefully setting type and distributing treatises among the nascent Carthians and receptive Acolytes. Advances in technology have provided members of the lineage far more freedom and time in the modern nights, but most Agonistes spend each night furthering their own agendas in the Great Struggle. Though Agonistes remain stubbornly proud of their erudition and effort, most pamphlets distributed outside the bloodline are done so anonymously to prevent one member from taking too much heat.

There are few bloodline-wide rites or observances, but two of the most conventional are known as Matriculation and Encaenia. Matriculation celebrates the return of the fledgling Agoniste from her first dip into the tenebrous realm of lucid torpor. Often not entirely recovered from the experience, the fledgling, draped in scarlet gowns, accompanied by her sire or Avus, enters an assembly (called the Congregation for this ceremony) of her new conservatory gathered for the occasion and similarly dressed, representing entrance into the fraternity. In an elaborate ceremony, the mentor presents the fledgling with a sash of blue and white, setting it carefully across the kneeling Kindred’s shoulders. Then the fledgling presents a paper on an academic subject to the Congregation, after which the gathered Polemicists take a simple vote of acceptance. In modern nights, this has become a formality, and rarely are the results anything but unanimous. On the unlikely occasion the Congregation refuses entrance to the fledgling, the mentor is expected to immediately rend the supplicant torpid and strip her of her gowns. After an appropriate length of time in torpor (called a Suspension), the fledgling is awakened and allowed to begin the process anew.

The bloodline expects each Polemicist to engage in Encaenia once per quarter century. This rite, created after the fall of the Archives in Constantinople, requires the Kindred to rediscover a piece of information once lost to the line. Initially, this referred to tracking down a journal or tome captured by the rampaging Crusaders and reclaiming it for the bloodline. Since the mid-20th century, Polemicists traditionally seek to find information lost to the world wars. The Agoniste does not necessarily seek actual documents lost during the war; locating a lost torpid elder and reviving her, tracking an obscure reference in a charred text or interviewing a Kindred of Dresden who escaped Final Death are all possibilities.

Perhaps owing to their thorough understanding of the effects of the Fog of Ages and the potential of the Dominate discipline, the Polemicists are notoriously distrustful of a single Kindred’s memory. Agonistes consider information that cannot be verified by more than a single source almost useless, and the information they have verified they disseminate to as many Kindred readers as possible, hoping to birth a mnemonic hydra (even if one Kindred with a particular piece of knowledge dies, or if one library burns, the knowledge remains elsewhere). In the past century, the Agonistes’ suspicion has spread from the mind to the very linguistic structures that make up human (and Kindred) thought. Rumors currently circulate among the line of Polemicists so disconcerted by the questions raised by Deconstructionism that they have embraced torpor rather than face the implications it presents. Most Agonistes, however, are pragmatic enough to explore such dark philosophies from a distance.

While the Agonistes line draws intellectual Kindred from a wide variety of intellectual (and occasionally outdated) models, two philosophies have made great headway in the last century among those Agonistes more interested in the question of torpor than Kindred history. Ancillae of the line have found Jungian philosophy, particularly the focus on the universal archetypes, the collective unconscious and the shadow, an incredibly useful framework within which to discuss the torpid experience. They insist that torpor represents a necessary reconnection with the cultural mythologies that inform the man within the Kindred, and that a Kindred properly prepared by an Agoniste can experience through torpor a genuine and healthy interaction between the Man (the Animus) and the Beast (the Shadow). A contradictory philosophy currently gaining ground within older members of the lineage is the practice of Entelechy, a belief that purports a Kindred, provided a source of sufficiently potent blood, can stave off the ennui of ages through constant active and conscious thought and action. Neither philosophy has had ample time within the bloodline to be fully explored or tested, but numerous Polemicists are devoted to both factions.

Bloodline Devotions

The Agonistes have developed a range of devotions, widely called “rituals” or “exercises” among the Polemicists, based on their knowledge of torpor. Although Kindred find the Polemicists entirely candid about their process, going so far as to circulate “How To” pamphlets, the inability of other Kindred to replicate the Polemicists’ results leads most outside the bloodline to believe the powers of the Agonistes to be a bloodline Discipline or type of ritual blood magic.

In reality, the Devotions bear a closer resemblance to a pseudoscience, as the bloodline members use their deep understanding of Kindred psychology and torpor to fortify their subjects against the Fog of Eternity. Most Devotions involve the use of Auspex and Dominate to place subtle mental blocks or suggestions in the Kindred mind, which are used to maintain sanity and memory in a torpid Kindred.

Although the Polemicists have been historically forthcoming with the particulars of their rituals, the powers cannot be used outside of the line, as they hinge on the intertwining of the energies of torpor with the Vitae that the Agonistes experience. The secrets gleaned from their first Exegesis and emergence are so fundamental to the use of Agonistes’ Devotions, that learning any of the exercises requires the Polemicist to be placed in controlled torpor through the use of Exegesis.

The Devotions of the Agonistes rely heavily on mental tricks, and none of them create any lasting physical alterations. After a Kindred has benefited from most of these powers (i.e., after she has awoken from torpor), the power becomes inactive and must be used again if the elder wants to gain the benefits for a second length of torpor. No Agoniste has ever developed a power that allows a vampire to maintain Attributes, Abilities or Disciplines in levels in excess of 5 after the elder’s Blood Potency has dropped, though the search for such powers occupies the bloodline nightly.

Agoniste Devotions affect only vampires.

The rapacious, cannibalistic nature of Kindred lends them a nightmarish quality in fiction, but the Alucinor reside within those horrid dreams. This is not to say that they are nothing more than figments of imagination. Rather, the Alucinor have a powerful sensitivity to dreams and nightmares. While the potent psyche of the Beast allows some Kindred to invade the minds of mortals, the mind of a “Sandman” roams the dreams of other beings, collecting imagery and sometimes encroaching on mortal slumber with a restless, crawling sense of horror.

While evidence points to the foundation of the Alucinor sometime around A.D. 450, the bloodline has always remained small in numbers. For the most part, Sandmen have remained behind the scenes, using their curious oneiromancy to advise Princes or embarrass enemies. The most prominent, recent and known Alucinor appearance focused on one Ariadne Metaxas, a Greek Cypriot Mekhet, who created a stir in 1931 when she evidenced the unusual capabilities of the line. She was alleged to have sent dream-images to several of Paris’ established Kindred before she arrived at her first salon in the city, conveying a recognizable image of herself before they’d ever met. Ultimately, Metaxas proved to be little more than a social butterfly who’d attuned herself to the Blood after a series of haunting dreams. By 1935, she succumbed to increasingly traumatic nightmares. After becoming little more than a shattered husk of her former self, obsessed with the then-nascent writings of Carl Jung, she disappeared from the social scene. Sightings of Alucinor have remained uncommon since. Perhaps a dozen have made their way through American cities in the last decade.

Alucinor generally fall into one of two social categories: those whose obsession with dreams leads them into inward-focused detachment, and those who retain a keen insight into others’ psyches. The former rarely interact with other vampires, shunning contact because the fever-dreams of torporous Kindred often convey powerful, terrifying imagery. The latter tend to be hangers-on at courts, using their peculiar insights to play on the hidden fears and desires of the undead. More than one Alucinor has parlayed her visions into a useful advisory position, educating a Prince or elder about his enemies in exchange for protection and favors.

Even more so than most Mekhet, the Alucinor have a bent for prophecy. Their ability to interpret stolen dreams gives members of the line an edge in fathoming the hidden motives of mortals and Kindred. Overexposure to others’ dreams can cause problems, though. Alucinor suffer from occasional intrusions of dreams into their waking moments. Their own nightmares can also warp due to the influence of strong emotions from other sleepers, causing them to experience false memories. Much like Kindred who spend too much time in torpor, Alucinor can be uncertain of what memories are fact and what are imagined. Sandmen who become highly attuned to dreams are often withdrawn and cryptic, given to conclusions based less on logic than on hallucinatory insight. Most fear torpor and the inevitable nightmares that it portends.

On one recent occasion, an exclamatory Alucinor demanded audience at a Kindred gathering in order to give dire predictions based on the hidden tensions of the city’s political elite. His warnings proved at least partially correct. He suffered Final Death within a week when a particularly torrid nightmare gripped him and sent him sleepwalking during the day.

Covenant: Those Alucinor who focus on dream symbolism tend to avoid the social trappings of Kindred society and remain nominally unbound. Nevertheless, the Kindred need for social acclaim (or the pressure of politics) sometimes drives a Sandman into sporadic contact with certain others. The Ordo Dracul has the most contact with the Alucinor. The Order goes out of its way to puzzle out occult symbols in Alucinor dreams, while Sandmen appreciate the society’s focus on exploring the mysteries of the vampiric condition. Members of the Ordo Dracul suspect that Alucinor attunement to dreams may reflect a higher level of consciousness, and could be a stepping stone in the process of relieving the undead condition.

Some Princes of Carthian or Invictus bent seek the Alucinor out for their insights into the Kindred psyche, a role that the unscrupulous Sandman may even relish. Line members who don’t eschew society often fall into one of these camps, because resultant political contacts are useful in night-to-night survival. The worldly focus of both covenants also helps to ground the Alucinor in affairs of the present.

At least one line member has taken his dreams as divine messages and sought out membership in the Lancea Sanctum. The Spear as a whole has not yet decided whether the Alucinor are touched by holy insight or haunted by demons. Nevertheless, a significant faction argues that Alucinor dreams may be a sign of divine inspiration, or possibly visions of Heaven and Hell, so they merit further investigation.

The Circle of the Crone sees Alucinor insight as a feminine aspect, but the bloodline itself is equally composed of males and females, and the Sandmen generally have no special interest in the philosophies of Acolytes in any case. Some Alucinor believe the Circle may have a means to control nightmares, and seek out that information, but Kindred occultism being as jealously guarded as it is, no remedies have been revealed.

Appearance: Although young line members tend to dress in a manner suited to the time of their Embrace, the toll of an existence half-dominated by fantasy and whimsy causes them to become eccentric over time. New Alucinor favor tasteful, relaxed clothes from the mortal world. Eventually, the pressures of nightmares cause these undead to develop a distracted air. They give up on following kine fashions, instead becoming stuck in the same styles they wore when they joined the bloodline. Some go so far as to eschew care for their appearance completely, becoming haggard and unkempt. Alucinor who delve deeply into Insomnium sometimes become so distanced from their physical states that they wear only tattered nightgowns, worn-out ensembles or threadbare antiques, perceiving the physical world as somehow less real than their own dreams. Sandmen who remain tied to Kindred politics favor the dark, forbidding attire more common to the Mekhet in general.

Haven: Young and old Alucinor alike prefer secure, secretive lairs where they can conduct their studies of psychology in seclusion. For Alucinor with a bent toward politics, this means a compound in the city, usually in an academic, upper-class location. A few Alucinor even take up residence as “permanent guests” with their patrons. Sandmen who eschew politics gravitate toward rural estates, where they can avoid dealing with other Kindred. Rustic Sandmen focus ever more deeply on peeling back layers of meaning from their odd visions. Alucinor are as likely as any other Kindred to have (or not have) various servants in their homes. Most line members avoid using traps or heavy security; a single hallucinatory episodemight be enough to kill oneself in one’s own haven.

Background: The Alucinor bloodline has no moratorium on membership; Mekhet become Sandmen by personal predilection rather than by some sort of initiation. Exact membership numbers are impossible to determine, as the Alucinor would never congregate as a whole. Rather, they tend to spring from Mekhet who have an attraction to symbolism. Those who give themselves over to fantasies, flights of fancy or twisted imaginings. Alucinor often quest for the cryptic meaning hidden in some form of art, whether by seeking the underpinnings of James Joyce’s writing, by searching for connections to reality in Salvador Dali’s paintings, or by whispering prayers to every Catholic saint over a reliquary saved from destruction during the Dark Ages. These perlustrations through abstraction can lead to insight or madness. A vampire, whatever his reason to attune to the bloodline, tends to become consumed with symbolism to the point of losing functionality. For most would-be Alucinor, this is simply a journey into understanding a greater aspect of their own nature and subconscious urges.

When an Alucinor creates a new Kindred (a rare event), the convert is as likely as not to go his own way. Choices of progeny can range from the lures that attract normal vampires — utility, sensuality, camaraderie — to esoteric choices based on a moment of symbolism. Childer are not coerced into joining the lineage, although those who go out of their way to direct their blood in a different direction generally drift away from their sires. Outsider Mekhet who force themselves into alignment with the lineage may garner some degree of scorn or respect, depending on their approach. Those who don’t appreciate the significance of dream interpretation are often rebuffed, on the rare occasion of a bloodline meeting.

Character Creation: Most Alucinor are startlingly insightful, although the practicality of their erudition is another matter. As questers seeking self-knowledge and understanding of symbols, line members usually have sharp, intuitive minds. Mental Attributes tend to be high, with Social Attributes well-rounded and Physical Attributes ranging from frail to average. Many Alucinor have a low Resolve, though, stemming from their inability to separate fact from fancy. The Alucinor also tend to rely on Mental and Social Skills, while Physical Skills atrophy to rudimentary levels. Alucinor who’ve been around for any length of time often invest a great deal of effort into supporting a proper Haven, so that they can remain closeted away in safety.

Organization: There’s no organization to the Alucinor beyond their shared connection to dreams. Of course, Sandmen in reasonably close proximity become aware of one another quickly; use of the most basic Insomnium powers can let them sense the mélange of dreams that afflict any of their own kind. The Alucinor are probably one of the few bloodlines with a motive to actively discourage interaction with others of their blood. These vampires dislike being reminded of their particular burden, and tend to be embittered when forced into the company of others who represent their own shortcomings. Even Alucinor sires and childer tend to become estranged after a short time.

Concepts: Dreamtime shaman, information broker, lunatic, political analyst, oracle, psychologist, sleep therapist, surrealist artist

History
In spite of the Alucinor low profile until 1931, their history reaches back much further. Unreliable but recurring nightmares in the lineage suggest that the line founder was female, and she diablerized a much older vampire some time during the era of the Roman Empire. The imprint of the elder’s personality permanently twisted the psyche of the then-fledgling, leaving her sensitive to others’ strong emotions and personalities whil she slept. A few Alucinor even speculate that the diablerized elder’s personality has fragmented and resides in every Alucinor, emerging during slumber to look for tiny pieces of dreams that remind it of its former self. Since the founder remains hidden away, the brood uses the name Alucinor from the Latin term for the world of dreams. No other proper name is known.

Legend aside, the Alucinor definitely predate the modern era. The effects of their Insomnium Discipline may contribute to medieval stories of succubi. (Indeed, the Lancea Sanctum is quick to caution that this possible influence reinforces the possibility of demonic influence in the bloodline.) During the Renaissance, when artists called upon Muses and dreams for inspiration, the Alucinor may have had a hand in some of the disturbing (and later surreal) art that came out of the period.

If there is a founder from ancient times, her actual identity remains shrouded. Ariadne Metaxas supposedly aligned herself to the lineage after several months of communion in dreams, chasing after a barely visible image of an androgynous figure. This figure, presumably the line’s progenitor, has never been met in person in the modern age — at least, as far as anyone knows. Alucinor who commit diablerie reportedly suffer intense nightmares in which a shrouded figure beckons to them, accusingly or hungrily. It is even remotely possible that the first Alucinor has herself become nothing more than a roaming nightmare, limited to communion with her line through rare glimpses into their sleeping psyches.

Alucinor history in Kindred society primarily concerns the few who sell their services for political gain. This practice gives the Alucinor something of a mercenary reputation. As far as anyone knows, there has never been an Alucinor Prince, but there have been multiple Alucinor advisors to the throne.

Society and Culture
The Alucinor lack a coherent organization of their own. They usually retain their mortal habits and dress for a time, those behaviors falling away until only bits and pieces are left and a line member cannot even remember why they were important. Each Alucinor’s outlook on society, mores and personal morality is therefore an unconscious amalgamation of her mortal experiences, her vampiric urges, and the jarring images that lurk in her dreams. The danger of running afoul of another Alucinor in dreams means that the Sandmen tend to give one another a wide berth.

THE DREAM DANCE
Thanks to hallucinations brought on by waking dreams, Alucinor sometimes experience “events” that aren’t real, or misremember events in twisted ways. Ultimately, the burden is upon the player to portray the unique flaw of the bloodline, but players who insist on refusing to do so should certainly suffer its effects by Storyteller decree — and chronically. Alucinor can, after all, be victimized while asleep by the Insomnium powers of other Sandmen, or caused to misremember crucial facts. Since the Storyteller is the only arbiter on what any given character sees and hears, she can selectively edit a character’s experiences. Maybe a line member can puzzle out what’s true or false with enough reasoning and careful records, but who’s to say that some cherished memory isn’t anything more than a fantasy? This weakness could be handled as something like the Amnesia Flaw (World of Darkness Rulebook, p. 218), but without any experience point rewards for portraying the trait.

It was one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever seen: Amara’s ruin smoking in the moonlight, the scent of gun-powder and rock-dust still hanging in the air, thick enough to taste, and beneath that blood and death-ashes. I was numb with exhaustion already, my strength drained to the dregs by nights of battle, and yet the sight struck me, wrung pain from me when I thought I had no more grief left to give. Amara, the heart of my people, lay broken before me, and I knew that the ash I tasted belonged to my sire, and my sire’s sire, and all of my kin, broken along with it. They would not have abandoned the ancient temple-sanctuary to be defaced and despoiled by foreigners, living or dead. They would not have abandoned our king to be slaughtered by assassins unless they themselves could fight no more. A wrathful madness seized me, and for a searing moment all I wanted was to kill — had anything or anyone been unfortunate enough to come upon me, then, it would have ended the night in bloody shreds. As I came closer, across the fields torn by horses’ hooves and artillery caissons, the furious madness ebbed away and an even more terrible anguish took its place. It was even worse than I had feared, than could be seen at a distance, the whole of the temple’s outer face was simply gone, pummeled to rubble and buried in the landslide caused by the wholesale collapse of the hill’s crown. Beneath my feet, the earth still trembled from time to time and the sound of falling stone echoed out through the wreckage, as the collapse of the temple interior had not yet finished. I knelt in what was left of the outermost court and could not even find in myself the desire to move as the sky slowly paled with oncoming dawn. I wept, and whispered quiet pleas for the souls of my dead, and would have stayed to join them, had not Narayan found me there and forced me to my feet, his hoarse voice insisting that all was not yet lost. It was true, though I did not believe him at that moment. The temple was not wholly destroyed. The deepest chambers survived, and were re-excavated and reinforced in slow and careful stages over many years. We return there now by hidden ways, to take counsel among one another, and to whisper our questions to the ghosts of the warriors who came before us, and to fear for the future of our people. Or, at least, I do.

Thus it is written in the puranas of the Amara Havana: The asura Mahishasura, blessed for the purity of his piety, the many austerities of his existence, and his unfailing adherence to the dharma of his kind, could be neither conquered nor slain by the hand of any god or man. The terror of the three worlds, he conquered Heaven and drove forth all the gods, whose weapons were powerless against him, and sewed chaos and destruction upon the helpless Earth. In secret, the mightiest of the gods came together upon the banks of the holiest of waters and offered to the universe their prayer: that the Great Goddess should send forth a savior in her own form, a warrior goddess mightier than any man or god, whose strength could save Heaven and Earth from ruin at the hands of the demon none of them could slay. Their prayer was heard, and from the waters she came with ten arms to bear the weapons that were powerful in her hands, and three eyes to see all that had befallen the realms of Heaven and Earth and the Underworld, and a tongue that wished to taste the blood of demons.

The battle between the mighty warrior goddess and the pious demon shook the Heavens and the Earth, and raged from the sea to the sky, from the mountains to the plains, and across the length and breadth of the three worlds. For nine days and nine nights they fought with one another, neither able to claim victory, and the blood of the goddess and the demon rained down upon the Earth and the creatures that dwelt upon it, transfiguring all that it touched in the demon-haunted world. The men and women upon whom the goddess’s blood fell suffered from its touch, first with a terrible heat that burnt away their mortal lives. Then a terrible cold gripped their souls, and when they rose from where they were stricken, they were neither human, nor god, nor demon, but some part of all. A fierce hunger was upon them, a desire to sup upon the blood of the asuras who, following Mahishasura, had risen from the dark places of the world to slake their lusts upon the people of the Earth while the gods could do naught to aid or comfort those who cried out to them for succor. And so, since the gods were helpless, the new-born warriors, in whose veins ran the blood of both gods and demons, took up their arms for the first time to slay the despoilers of their world.

Thus it is written:

On the tenth day, the goddess was victorious. Her blade parted the hideous head of Mahishasura from his shoulders and the asura armies that the fiend had drawn into his service fell back in horror and dismay, to be pursued and driven back into the darkness from whence they had come. Shining with the gentle light of the newest of crescent moons, the goddess descended into the broken, ravaged world and surveyed it with sorrow in her heart. As the last light of the day died, the warriors who wore her blood as their mantle came forth from the darkness in which they had fought and suffered and knelt in supplication at the goddess’s feet, to beg her mercy and her blessing. To them, she extended her hand and, laying it upon their brows, she found that she could not take back the change that had transfigured them — but she could acknowledge the value of what they had become, and charge them to keep and carry out the dharma of kings and warriors so long as they continued to exist. These first warriors accepted that blessing, that responsibility, and the name that the goddess gave to them: Amara Havana, the Deathless Sacrifice, who had offered their flesh and souls to the struggle against asuras and adharma and whose faith could no more perish than they.

Thus it was written, and thus it remains.

History and Culture: The Amara Havana hold themselves to be the literal descendants of gods (or, rather, a goddess) and of demons, the offspring of a war that raged thousands of years before humanity even possessed the means to record its history. During this dark time, the world was overrun with both asuras (immensely powerful spiritual beings who were neither gods nor demons, and which could be malicious or benevolent and were often both) and demons hostile to both humankind and the gods. These entities were released, from the prisons and vows binding them, by the demon king Ravana, through his own rebellion against the gods and the strictures of the universe’s ordered adherence to dharma. It was a time of great terror and strife in Heaven, Earth and the Underworld, the horror fueled by the fact that many of the mightiest demons were pious enough to have achieved divinely which protected them from death except by specific circumstances. Such was the case of the shapeshifter buffalo-demon Mahishasura, whose piousness and prayers to Brahma had been rewarded with a body that could not be slain by any man or god and who achieved the conquest of Heaven as a result. In order to defeat and destroy him, the three greatest gods — Vishnu, Shiva, and Brahma — offered their prayers to the holy river Ganges to bring forth a champion for the gods, and thus was born the goddess Durga, the warrior aspect of the great goddess Mahadevi. The mightiest of the gods gave her their most powerful weapons, the mountains gifted her with a white tiger to ride into battle, and she went forth to destroy the demon that could not be slain by any but a woman warrior.

Unlike several other Indian bloodlines, the Amara Havana do not believe that their patron deity actually incarnated as one of their own in order to found their lineage. Rather, when the blood of the goddess Durga and the asura Mahishasura rained down from their battle in heaven, those who were bathed in that blood were forever transformed by the touch of mingled divine and demonic essence. When the battle between the goddess and the demon ended in her victory, she descended to the ravaged Earth to set in motion its healing. When the first vampires of this bloodline knelt to her in supplication and prayed for her blessing, she answered those prayers with a boon of great power. Mighty and compassionate though she was, even the goddess could not purify them of the demon-taint to their blood, nor could she make them truly immortal. Instead she set forth conditions by which death could claim them, rendering them immune to age or disease, and vulnerable only to fire and the weapons of other warriors. She also decreed that the tainted blood that had so changed them would be the strongest of their weapons, anointing them as her chosen warriors, the rulers and guardians of their people by night as the mortal kshatriya were the rulers and guardians of the day. Thus, the Amara Havana consider themselves, and all other vampires, to be a form of asura, neither god nor man nor demon, but an admixture of all three, who have chosen a way of righteousness and self-sacrifice for the sake of dharma and the life of the universe itself.

This history is recorded in the puranas sacred to the bloodline as a whole and, in general, they do not credit the attitudes of western Kindred concerning the unlikelihood of their origin. If the westerners choose to believe that there are none in the world older than a thousand years, their delusions are of no concern to those who know better. The eldest vampires of the Amara Havana remember Harappa at the height of its power. The eldest of their lineage hand down artifacts, bearing the tongue of the ancient Indus, to the younger generations. They keep faith with the dharma laid out for them in the puranas and vedas and, as far as they are concerned, this is all that truly matters. Some Kindred of this bloodline even go so far as to believe that the western Daeva clan descends from them and not the other way around — with these westerners being the offspring of those too weak to adhere to the demands of rajadharma, who fled the cradle of the blood to hide their cowardice. This attitude naturally does not much endear them to their western cousins. Among the Kindred bloodlines of India, the Amara Havana generally consider only one other bloodline to be their peer in terms of ancient pedigree — the Nosferatu Rakshasa bloodline, with whom they have enjoyed a relationship that has ranged from semi-amicable rivalry to open, bloody warfare — and only one to be their superior, the kshatriya bloodline of the Mekhet, called the Ananta Naga.

In strict truth, no one knows precisely how old the Amara Havana really are, though they, like the Rakshasa, claim a history that stretches back thousands of years beyond the accepted limits of early human history. Certainly, there were vampires present and active within the Indus culture back then, though whether any of the current Indian Kindred bloodlines are direct descendants of those vampires is debatable. In practice, the Kindred of India make those claims and very few in the world could possibly gainsay them — they accept that history as true and teach it to their neonates as fact, admitting very little debate on the issue. In essence, the Amara Havana have retained their own startlingly resilient and contiguous internal culture by virtue of a fundamentalist attitude about their own history, which has admitted no editorial or adjustment by outside social forces. While the Rakshasa were falling under the “civilizing” sway of the brahmins for the first time, the Amara Havana were refining their own understanding of rajadharma to a razor’s edge without the need of such interference in their internal affairs. While the brahmin Kindred would have their own kind and the westerners believe that all the foremost advances of vampire society can be credited to their account, the kshatriya bloodlines in general, and the Amara Havana in particular, know otherwise.

The nocturnal battles, that secured the safety of the brahmin Kindred to practice their sorceries and develop their philosophies, were fought by the kshatriya. The blood that watered the mountains and plains and forests of India flowed from the veins of her warriors, living and dead. The burden of rulership was laid by the decree of the gods on the shoulders of those most fit to bear it, and those shoulders did not reside in the brahmin bloodlines. It became, over a period of some five centuries, a matter of not inconsiderable grievance that the princes of the Amara Havana would take counsel with the brahmin Kindred, would listen to the religious teachings of the brahmin Kindred, and would willingly do the fighting for the brahmin Kindred, but would not permit themselves or their dominions to be governed by a sorcerer-priest from behind their own thrones. Where the Amara Havana held sway, they were the rulers.

The Warrior of Warriors

The office of the Chhatrapati is as old as the kshatriya Kindred themselves, steeped in the martial traditions of the warrior vampires that cut across bloodline, loyalty and antagonism alike. The Chhatrapati is, in essence, the ruler of the entire warrior caste, the vampire who has, through dint of martial skill, political acumen, religious piety and personal magnetism, managed to claim the title in trial by combat or through the acclaim of the majority of the kshatriya elders. In times of danger, this individual becomes the strategos of the warrior caste, the general whose plans direct the actions of the kshatriya elders and their subordinates to meet their dharmic responsibility to protect the great mandala of Kindred society. In times of peace, the holder of the office wields considerable political influence within the counsels of the kshatriya bloodlines and does much to shape the balance of power between them and the brahmin bloodlines — with whom they are sometimes peaceful partners and sometimes vicious rivals. Even when the need is acute, the office of the Chhatrapati is not always filled. In fact, it is currently vacant. The last to hold the title was assassinated by Invictus agents in the 19th century and none of the surviving elders of the kshatriya bloodlines have yet proven themselves to possess the requisite social heft to claim the throne and keep it. The Ananta Naga, the pre-eminent kshatriya bloodline of the Mekhet, and the Amara Havana essentially traded claims to the title for the best part of a thousand years, the majority of all Chhatrapati coming from these two bloodlines, though the last to hold it was a Rakshasa. At the moment, there are three potential claimants, all of whom possess a valid case for their assertion. Ravindra of the Amara Havana holds claim as being the sole survivor of his lineage, which has produced no less than six Chhatrapati over the last thousand years and which was nearly annihilated fighting in defense of the previous holder of the title. Kalapriya of the Ananta Naga contests the claim on the grounds of the incompetence of both the Amara Havana and the Rakshasa in recent decades and the need for care and delicacy in the execution of current plans. Narayan of the Rakshasa holds claim as being the grandchilde of the last Chhatrapati and the foremost warrior of his remaining lineage. Contested claims of this type are usually resolved in trials by combat. No one has yet issued such a challenge, but many within the kshatriya caste believe it is only a matter of time.

Matters stood thus at the dawn of the 19th century, when the great European powers began exerting their colonial influence on the Indian subcontinent. The influx of mortal conquerors brought vampire conquerors in their wake like carrion birds and, in the eyes of many with the kshatriya caste, conflict was inevitable. Unfortunately, malign providence worked against the native Kindred, including the Amara Havana: a number of powerful elders retired their positions, leaving untried successors to navigate the perilous social waters of newly colonial India, and the results were almost uniformly disastrous. The Chhatrapati resisted the siren call of sleep for as long as he could but, in the end, even he needed to lay down his sword. His retirement, and the subsequent internecine quarrel among the kshatriya over who should replace him, led to open bloodshed between all the major bloodlines and most of the minor ones, as well. The Amara Havana and the Ananta Naga joined forces to lesson the Rakshasa, whom they perceived as the lapdogs and puppets of self-serving brahmin manipulators, and then turned upon each other to settle the question of dominance between themselves once and for all. Before either could claim victory, however, the war was joined from another quarter: European vampires beholden to the Invictus and the Lancea Sanctum, as well as native pawns and traitors, attacked the embattled kshatriya bloodlines. Already weakened by the struggle with their traditional rivals, the Amara Havana were hit particularly hard by the European onslaught: whole lineages were wiped out root and branch, and many dozens more were driven into torpor and exile before the conflict finally ended with much of southern India under the rulership of conquering European princes.

Licking their wounds in exile, the Amara Havana realized the folly of their own actions and moved to correct them. Over the next century and a half they formally sued for peace with the Ananta Naga, who accepted without conditions, and then made similar overtures to the Rakshasa, who were even more broken and embittered than they. As it happened, the Rakshasa were more than willing to make common cause and, together, they made a project of isolating and destroying the Invictus Kindred who laid claim to their former dominions — slowly but surely reclaiming and rebuilding the foundations of their power. Now, the Amara Havana and their allies are planning to extend their vengeance beyond the borders of India.

Working closely with Rakshasa infiltration specialists, agents of the Amara Havana have assumed an assortment of guises and have begun slowly introducing themselves into western courts in both the Americas and Europe. Frequently, an Amara Havana will travel in a Rakshasa merchant-envoy’s retinue as a bodyguard or other high-ranking servant whose position would allow for reasonably unfettered access to a western court. More level-headed members of this bloodline are assigned to merchant-envoy missions themselves. Once ensconced in the cities of their unwitting hosts, these infiltration teams gather intelligence, recruit reliable local sources of information, engage in the fundaments of Kindred intercultural commerce, and report their findings back to their superiors. When and if a target is selected for elimination, these teams will often be the means by which an assassin or group of assassins enters and leaves a specific domain; these infiltrators also arrange the particulars of travel and accommodations for missions, as well as providing a readily available source of assistance should greater force be required to complete a given assignment. Lamentably, the Amara Havana themselves are not the best of assassins, being prone to the sort of honorable behavior that would lead them to challenge an enemy instead of simply staking him and leaving him posted somewhere facing eastward five minutes before dawn. When, however, a coterie of kshatriya are assigned a task that involves a high degree of violence to an enemy’s servants — particularly his body-servants or other retainers of a martial nature — the Amara Havana are generally the ones best equipped to dispense it. True elders of this lineage consider vastly uneven odds to be an interesting tactical complication, not an insurmountable disadvantage.

Some members of this lineage, however, have been known to go west, with or without companions, and simply never return. The world outside the rigid social hierarchy of the Indian Kindred is intensely seductive to many young, and no few old, vampires — particularly those whose ability to govern the passions left to them is somewhat chancy. Hot blood and occasionally poor judgment is considered somewhat excusable in youngsters of this lineage and should such an individual choose to abandon his duty to his kin and his dharma to wallow in the heathen fleshpots for a time…well, that can be understood, so long as he eventually returns, makes penance, and has some sort of advantageous connections or bits of information to offer in compensation for his earlier moral failings. This sort of behavior coming from anyone more than 50 years undead, however, is considered significantly worse than a transitory failure of ethics and such individuals can, at the very least, expect harsh penances in order to regain the purity of soul they have willfully defiled. Failure to return home and accept proper chastisement leads to only one outcome, though the Amara Havana are loath to use it. Expulsion from one’s bloodline (the social aspect of it, anyway; obviously one can’t literally have a bloodline removed) is generally construed to be a fate worse than Final Death by all Indian Kindred. Destruction is preferable to a declaration of pariah, outcast and untouchable by all. Only a handful of Kindred have ever suffered this fate in the history of the Amara Havana bloodline, but their lesson stands starkly in the minds of all whose missions take them far from home.

Reputation: Among the Kindred of India, the Amara Havana possess something of a mixed reputation. On the one hand, they are undeniably kshatriya among kshatriya: they have refrained, for centuries, from taking the path of least resistance, of allowing foreign influences to mutate their clan culture, to abandon their traditional beliefs and adopt an ethic more suited to the changing face of the world. Traditionalist vampires have long considered them to be the rock to which other, less faithful lineages might cling and be sheltered by their willingness to bleed and kill for the sake of all their kind, keeping faith with their rigid and unchanging dharma even as the rest of the world erodes around them. On the other hand, that unyielding adherence to tradition can, and has, worked against them. When one’s enemy is dishonorable, treating honorably with such opponents becomes a fatal weakness. When the world changes and one refuses to change with it long enough, even the simplest alterations in the shape of one’s beliefs can become points of breaking strain. The Amara Havana, in this day and fallen age, are a throwback to ancient honor and glory — and are very, very fragile. The coming conflicts may either signal a return to power for the line, a remaking of unbalanced Kindred society in their own image, or finish breaking them once and for all.

Within the senior counsels of the bloodline, at least two distinct factions have come into being. The traditionalist elders of the Amara Havana have, for the most part, thrown their lot wholly in with those who wish to avenge themselves on the western Kindred whose conquest of southern Indian during the 19th century so ravaged the kshatriya lineages. These vampires are highly conservative in general, adhering to social conventions that were ancient before Alexander marched his armies to the Hyphases and nourishing their sense of grievance with the modern world like a man cuckolded by his favorite wife. The loyal opposition within the bloodline is, in fact, only slightly less conservative — but that “less” embraces such heretical notions as not picking a potentially unwinnable intergenerational war with the western Kindred to salve the bloodline’s wounded pride, not declaring those Indian Kindred who travel to the west for their own reasons pariah, and a general greater willingness to adopt such elements of the modern world that do not directly threaten the integrity of their clan culture. The unappeasable fury of the conservatives drives most of the bloodline’s current activities with regard to its involvement in the Southern Cities Alliance; but the loyalists, somewhat greater in numbers, exert a certain amount of counterbal- ancing influence, forcing a consideration of tactics, objec- tives, and, most importantly, consequences that many of the more bloodthirsty elders would prefer to ignore. As matters currently stand, neither faction has the numbers nor the continuity of influence necessary to completely undermine the other’s efforts. The only thing that could significantly alter this balance of power is, of course, the vacancy of the Chhatrapati’s throne. Should Ravindra, one of the most potent loyalist elders, feel it necessary to issue a challenge, the traditionalists would move to neutralize him, and by extension those allied to him, with a challenger of their own. On the eve of war it remains to be seen, however, if anyone — Ravindra included — desires to unsettle the entire kshatriya caste in such a way.

Concepts: Genius chessmaster tactician, reluctant assassin, dumb but honorable muscle, individual of mass destruction, dharma rebel, hard-bitten veteran of the colonial wars, warrior poet, private military contractor with an agenda, Bollywood martial artist, ultraconservative culture cop

The Annunaku bloodline’s origin vanishes into the mists of ancient history. The Annunaku have no legend about their founder — they say they always existed as rulers of the land. The bloodline takes its name from Mesopotamian gods of the Underworld — or maybe it’s the other way around. The Annunaku point to ancient legends about the patron gods of cities, tomb-guardians and sacred caves inhabited by oracular spirits. “That’s us,” they say.

When the Roman Empire invaded Greece, Anatolia and Mesopotamia, the Annunaku followed the legions home. By the empire’s fall, the Annunaku had spread throughout Europe. Instead of inhabiting caves and tombs, they moved into manor houses to rule over remote villages. Generation after generation, the peasants lived in fear of the undead lord who drank their blood, but they dared not leave. He would know if they tried, and become angry.

As civilization and the Renaissance spread throughout Europe, the Annunaku moved into the growing cities. Some Annunaku found their villages burgeoning into towns. Other Annunaku sent childer to seek their fortunes and restore the bloodline’s ancient traditions as lords of the cities. A few took the wrenching step of abandoning their rural Demesnes, when their supernatural powers could not defend them from cannon fire. More Annunaku chose to finally die as their ancient manses toppled and burned. Others sank into the ground to sleep away the centuries until they could start anew on kingdoms of animal blood.

Modern cities gave the Annunaku new forms of territory, with new tenants to rule. The Annunaku learned about business and universities, churches and the civil service. They encountered other vampires, and taught them to respect the borders the Annunaku set. Where the Annunaku ruled, they ruled supreme. The land itself bent to their will, revealing intruders and defending its lord, through a Discipline called Tenure.

Territory obsesses these Kindred. A “Landlord” dislikes leaving his Demesne, though friendly company can mitigate the instinctive terror the Landlords feel on unfamiliar ground. These Kindred regard every mortal who lives in their Demesnes as their property. On the other hand, the Annunaku take great care of their fiefdoms. Annunaku may rule their mortal tenants with utter cruelty, but the Landlords also protect them from any outside threat.

The bloodline’s pride in ownership also expresses itself in a code of hospitality. Although Annunaku hate trespassers, many Annunaku adore guests. A guest gives a Landlord a chance to display aristocratic virtues of generosity and etiquette and to show off his Demesne. An honor-besotted Landlord might treat a guest to blood feasts every night and risk his unlife to protect her. A fine line, however, separates the revered guest from the boorish intruder. Any insult might switch a visitor from one category to the other — and each Annunaku can have his own arcane standards of acceptable behavior.

Some Annunaku still dwell in isolated rural fiefdoms, lording over terrified mortal tenants. Other Annunaku dwell apart from mortals, losing themselves in their roles as spirits of the land. Most Annunaku, however, now dwell in cities like other Kindred. These Annunaku, many of them comparatively young, necessarily abandon the roles of feudal lords. Younger Annunaku feel the same drive to possess and master a territory, however, even if their Demesne is just a block of apartments or small businesses that they own.

Other Annukaku?
Some legends suggest that in ancient Mesopotamia, the Annunaku were a covenant rather than a bloodline. The members of this early covenant supposedly all acted as minor gods of their cities and learned Tenure to enforce their rule.

The legend is not entirely implausible. Not only have Invictus of other clans apparently learned Tenure in ages past, some Invictus members teach it to their childer as well. A few Ventrue lineages have taught Tenure for generations, and also call themselves “Annunaku.” Perhaps they have become a parallel bloodline. Without mystical tests, it may be hard to tell the difference between a member of one bloodline and a member of a similar — possibly sibling — bloodline.

Parent Clan: Annunaku emerge from the Gangrel clan. Unlike some in their parent clan, Annunaku feel perfectly comfortable in cities, without any special longings for personal mobility or freedom. Some Annunaku view their medieval rustication as an unfortunate hiccup in their millennial history as Masters of the City.

Covenant: Most Landlords join the Invictus, considering it the covenant that most fully appreciates the bond between master, territory and tenant. A few Annunaku — mostly recent scions of the old village Landlords — join the Circle of the Crone, seeing connections between its pagan mysticism and their own mystical connection to the land. Even fewer join the Carthians or Lancea Sanctum, though an occasional Landlord feels the utopian lure of planned communities or sees the church and parish as the contemporary version of the city and its patron god. Quite a number of Annunaku are unaligned, however, because they see joining a covenant as compromising their claims of absolute authority over their Demesnes.

Appearance: Annunaku take childer from both genders and any race, so the physical appearance of the Annunaku is quite diverse. Clothing also varies widely, and often depends on the way a Landlord establishes himself as master of a neighborhood. A merchant who owns several businesses in a neighborhood might dress in a sober three-piece suit, while a gang leader who holds a slum in terrified subjection might choose a black leather jacket, T-shirt, ripped jeans and brightly hued bandanna. When conducting the bloodline’s archaic rituals, however, any Landlord might dress in a Babylonian kilt, the sleeveless robe of an Egyptian priest, a medieval noble’s garb or nothing at all. Some Annunaku believe that when they act as spirits of the land, they should discard all signs of their mortal origin, including clothing.

Haven: Landlords are similarly diverse in their choice of havens. Most prefer large, handsomely furnished and comfortable havens, though the details vary with the particulars of a Landlord’s chosen role. Whenever possible, though, a Landlord chooses a haven with a plot of earth: a lawn or garden, or at least a cellar with a dirt floor. Even those Annunaku who lack the power to merge with the soil feel uncomfortable sleeping too far removed from the land they rule. Many of them actually like to sleep on the soil they claim as theirs.

Background: Annunaku rarely sire childer, for they do not like to share their domains with any other Kindred for long. Any Landlord’s choice for a childe, therefore, is likely to be idiosyncratic: anyone from a mortal descendant to a stranger the Landlord fancies has a “noble spirit.” Sometimes a Landlord wants a childe to serve as his assistant and caretaker during torpor, perhaps leading to a cyclical dynasty; sometimes a Landlord might seek an eternal consort. Now and then, an Annunaku Embraces someone who lives near, or cares for, some great monument or natural wonder because the Landlord thinks the place needs a guardian. Prospective childer often serve as ghouls before their Embrace, as the sires test their abilities and train them for their new duties.

Character Creation: Unlike many Gangrel, most Annunaku are strong in Social Attributes and Skills such as Intimidation, Persuasion or Socialize. Mental Attributes may be high, but Mental Skills tend to be few and specialized. Practical knowledge such as Investigation or Politics is most common, with Occult for the bloodline’s mystical heritage, but Annunaku can surprise other Kindred with their mastery of unexpected fields such as ancient history (Academics) or hobby electronics (Crafts and Science). Few Annunaku skimp on their Physical Skills, though; the Annunaku tend to be well-rounded Kindred — perhaps with odd specialties.

Organization: Within the bloodline, Annunaku acknowledge no organization beyond the sire and childe. Landlords routinely subject their childer to Vincula, and a childe may remain with his sire for centuries. By tradition, only after tending his sire’s domain through a torpor may a childe depart to seek a domain of his own. Concubines remain bound to their sires forever, or at least until they can muster the will to defy the Vincula and escape. Cyclical dynasties are common among this bloodline, but many Annunaku do not want to be part-time Landlords.

The Annunaku retain many rituals and titles of great antiquity. Forging the mystical bond to the land that’s so important to Tenure requires rituals to honor the spirits of the land or gods of the city, so that they accept the vampire as one of their own. The climactic ritual involves a sacrifice of Vitae to bare earth and running water. Annunaku oaths often involve rituals to invoke earth or water, such as participants mixing soil from their territories and then sprinkling it in a ceremonial pool called an Abzu. “By the earth of my haven!” is a common pledge or exclamation for older Annunaku.

The most exalted title within the bloodline is Lugal-Irra, or “Great Lord.” It is reserved for Annunaku who become Prince or Regent of an extended domain. Landlords do not scorn other Kindred offices, but they don’t assign special names to them.

Annunaku who guard tombs, temples or other sacred places are called Galla-Ki, “Daemon of the Earth,” or Abgal-Ki, “Priest of the Earth.” Modern cities don’t have many temples to Marduk or sacred groves, but modern Landlords extend the concept to monuments of civic and national pride such as war memorials and historic landmarks. Even in the New World, some Annunaku dare to dwell outside cities as the guardians of a grotto, patch of forest, mountain or other natural location that seems especially sublime or historic. Of course, rural Landlords need sufficient Protean they can merge with the land they protect. The bloodline’s legends say the Old World has Galla-Ki millennia old, who transcended undeath to become true spirits of the land.

Landlords also award titles based on mastering particular Disciplines. For instance, a vampire who fully masters Animalism is addressed as Shakkan or Sumaqan, from Mesopotamian gods who protected wild animals.

Concepts: Feudal relic, tenured professor, odd-shoppe proprietor, community activist, feared gang leader, realestate tycoon, flophouse night manager, apartment superintendent, phantom of the [fill in the blank], guardian of the graveyard, historic site’s caretaker, oracle of the cave

The Anvari claim to be one of the oldest bloodlines walking tonight. According to their legends, their founder was Sepehr Anvari, an opium-dealer in the last years of the Persian Empire. Like their Daeva parents, the Anvari are very sensual in nature, but unlike the Succubi, they do not compensate for their lost passions by manipulating others. Rather, the Anvari have turned to the use of opium and other narcotics to try to recapture their dead emotions. Over the centuries, the Anvari have come to view narcotics not only as a way to ease the torments of unlife, but as a way to ascend to a higher state.

The bloodline also relies on the addictive effects of narcotics to tie others to its members. Building herds of pliant kine is not only acceptable to the Anvari, but necessary. The line is so intertwined with drugs that a “Pusher” has difficulty feeding from a vessel who isn’t coursing with opiates. Such drugs tend to quickly addict their users and ironically lead them to rely on the very beings that feed on them. It’s a double-edged sword, though. The Anvari themselves are incapable of enjoying the euphoria of narcotics except through the blood of drugged vessels, leaving them tied in turn to their herds.

Other Kindred tend to view the Anvari with distaste at best, and as a constant threat to exposure among mortals at worst. The rest of the Daeva view Pushers as substandard members of the clan who are incapable of seducing prey through beauty and talent alone. That Anvari are not above feeding on addicts in slums and alleyways only reinforces Succubus opinion. Other vampires tend to consider Anvari use of addictive drugs to coerce kine as little more than a poor Kindred’s Vinculum, and indicative of lazy or inept hunting. Some Kindred fear that the Anvari risk exposing undead society as a whole. After all, heroin addicts are always heroin addicts. Who knows what one might say to get a hit, or what a vice cop might uncover during a raid? So, to participate in the Danse Macabre as equals, most Anvari keep their heritage hidden from their undead peers.

Covenant: More Anvari are drawn to the Circle of the Crone than any other covenant. The myths of Sumeria and Persia both have a strong female presence, leading many of the bloodline — particularly its elders — to be comfortable with the Acolytes’ general philosophy. Furthermore, as some rituals of the old ways employ psychotropic substances, the Anvari are able to barter influence readily among the cultists. The Carthians are probably the most common choice for young Anvari, if for no other reason than members are slightly less hidebound in their viewpoints than more staid covenants. The Invictus enjoys its share of Pushers as well, whether they are established elders with a secure power base or up-and-coming dealers building fortunes in the drug trade. The Ordo Dracul may interest the occasional Anvari who seeks to escape the Curse or addiction through covenant strictures, but by and large its rites and practices require more self-discipline than most Pushers are willing to devote. It is the rare Anvari indeed who heeds the call of the Lancea Sanctum, as the very nature of the bloodline’s relationship with narcotics is offensive to many orthodox followers of that group.

Appearance: While the lineage is originally of Middle Eastern descent, one can now find examples of nearly every ethnicity and race among its members, thanks largely to the global reach of narcotics. The Anvari aren’t as bound by physical appearance as are members of their parent clan. Nonetheless, few (if any) of the bloodline could be described as unattractive. The Anvari are also as in touch with the most recent trends and fashions as the Daeva, but are more likely to dress according to their surroundings, whether it’s an upscale social gathering or an inner-city crack house.

Haven: Anvari refuges are generally comfortable in their furnishings and insulated from the rest of the world in some manner, whether by location, construction or design. Most are also well-appointed, thanks in no small part to the fact that the majority of Pushers see sizeable profits from the drug trade. Many Anvari havens are well protected by security measures, ranging from hired guards to closed-circuit cameras to advanced intrusion-detection devices. As a result of drug seizure laws in the U.S., most Anvari there are careful to keep their havens far removed from any serious drug trafficking.

Background: The Anvari Embrace from all levels of society, but tend to favor those of upper-middle-class or higher financial status. Part of this predilection is due to the lingering influences of theDaeva, but it’s largely because the Anvari actually seldom have direct contact with poor segments of society. (Their agents and “employees” do the selling.) Among the Anvari who actually deal, many build sizeable herds among the lower social strata, where drug use provides an escape from the drudgery of existence. These street dealers are usually looked down upon by their “high-class” brethren.

Contrary to what one may assume given the bloodline’s close association with drugs, the Anvari rarely (if ever) Embrace an addict or even a frequent user. Experience has shown that addicts are ill suited to the bloodline’s weaknesses, quickly succumbing completely to the lure of opiates. Few Anvari suffer the Vice of Gluttony. A Kindred addict is a tremendous liability, risking not only business ventures, but also exposure to mortals. Pushers therefore tend to seek individuals with exposure to narcotics who’ve proven resistant to the lure.

Character Creation: Pushers call upon all aspects of their identity to perpetuate their existence and trade. Social Attributes and Skills are most useful for influencing the spread of opiate use, and can be used for such base activities as dealing drugs directly. Mental traits are only slightly less important in observing modern mortal society and perceiving ways to ensnare more and more users, and to then prey upon them. Wits is particularly useful for reacting to situations quickly, whether it’s recognizing that a city councilman could be lured into obedience through addiction, or to anticipate police presence before it makes itself known. Physical Attributes and Skills are pursued last but still important for self-defense and holding one’s own amongst competitors or drug-crazed vessels.

The Haven Merit is invaluable, specifically in terms of Security but also for Location in terms of access to drug users without immersion in them. Contacts, Allies and Retainer Merits are equally useful to Anvari as they are to mortal purveyors of illicit substances, be it to have favors done, to anticipate challengers or to win protection.

Whether a Daeva revels in her Anvari blood soon after the Embrace or well into her Requiem means little to the lineage. What she brings to the collective table is most important to fellow Pushers.

Organization: The closest the Anvari come to any formal organization is when two or more work together in a drug distribution scheme. Such deals are handled largely as in any criminal enterprise, although an elder member of the bloodline is granted respect regardless of his position in the arrangement. Otherwise, relationships among Anvari are largely limited to vampires with blood ties to each other. The very nature of their activity makes line members a paranoid lot on many levels, and most fear that any concentration of their number just begs to be exposed (if not as Kindred, then as drug dealers). Still, among elders — and a few young, traditional members — a simple ceremony of greeting is practiced when one member enters another’s domain. The host presents the guest with a single poppy, which the two then ritually cut into 12 separate pieces.

The strongest Anvari presence is currently in the United States. While the U.S. has only four percent of the world’s population, it consumes over 60 percent of its illegal drugs. Western Europe, particularly the Netherlands and Italy, are also home to several Anvari. There are more than a few members in the Golden Triangle region of Southeast Asia. Few remain in Middle East countries, as the current climate there isn’t as favorable to their pursuits as in ages past. There are also reports of isolated members in Mexico, Colombia, Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Concepts: Drug dealer, pharmacist, pimp, cartel kingpin, corrupt vice cop, substance-abuse councilor, musician, porn producer, burned-out veteran, research chemist

History
According to Anvari histories, the bloodline was founded sometime in the 4th or 5th century A.D. by an opium merchant named Sepehr Anvari in Ctesiphon, now a suburb of Baghdad. Anvari’s sire was an unnamed Daeva whose attraction to the man was apparently due in no small part to the fact that the vampire had become addicted to opium through feeding on drug-tainted vessels. Anvari’s Embrace may well have been an effort to establish control over the relationship between the two. Regardless, legend has it that the Daeva collapsed under her addiction and came to Final Death by falling into a drug-induced daze on a Babylonian rooftop before sunrise.

Anvari himself also indulged heavily in opium. He found it provided some relief from the loneliness of unlife. His customers also provided him with a readily available herd from which to feed. Anvari soon discovered he had no need to hunt or even use charm to seduce victims. More vessels than he could desire came to his lair every night to partake of his drug. By feeding from them while they languished, he introduced the drug into his system virtually every night.

It’s unclear even to elders of the bloodline if Anvari Embraced any childer prior to founding the lineage. It is believed by most that he became gluttonous in the years between his Embrace and the foundation, slipping into torpor numerous times. Even the duration of this period is a subject of debate, as no elder active in the western world claims to have been Embraced prior to the 16th century, although many assert they’ve met Anvari from the East who are far older.

The truth of the bloodline’s origins will likely remain a mystery as Anvari himself has not been heard from in nearly 500 years. What’s known is that his constant exposure to opium changed his Vitae in some fashion. He fed so frequently from vessels under the effects of narcotics that his addiction achieved supernatural magnitude. He ceased to be able to effectively draw nourishment from blood that lacked opiates. He could still feed, but it required much larger quantities of blood to sustain him.

In addition to an actual physical preference for opiate-laden blood, he was able to use his affinity for the substance to grant him a unique ability to induce narcotic effects in others — both mortal and Kindred. At that point, Anvari diverged from the Daeva. By the 14th century, opium use reached Europe and suitable vessels were plentiful. Anvari had Embraced more than a few childer, who had followed the opium trade west, hoping to find a climate more hospitable to them than that of their now primarily Muslim-controlled homeland.

Their parent clan soon came to regard the line with disdain and not a little fear. More than one vampire fell victim to the same trap that had caught Sepehr Anvari’s sire. The Anvari might not control the flow of opium, but they did hold sway over more than a few influential mortals who did — and they were willing to exploit any Kindred who fell under the drug’s power. Naturally, elders didn’t cherish the thought of some Anvari upstart achieving leverage over them.

The Inquisition
The coming of the Inquisition nearly dealt Final Death to the bloodline in Europe. Not only did Kindred themselves have to fear the Church’s Inquisitors, but opium itself became taboo. To the eyes of Inquisitors, anything from the East was tainted by the Devil’s hand. Thus, once-plentiful herds of opium users dwindled to a scattering of wary addicts.

It didn’t take long for more paranoid members of the Ventrue and Daeva clans to decide that the Anvari needed to be brought firmly under control. It was for the good of all. Indeed, the bloodline’s weakness provided a powerful tool to do just that. There was no need to risk exposing the Kindred as a whole. Culling the Anvari’s herd of vessels would serve just as well. A few years — and quiet accusations to Inquisitors by Ventrue and Daeva servants — later and the Anvari found themselves largely bereft of suitable victims in Europe. The clans then moved secretly against any of the bloodline that still persisted. In the end, the line effectively ceased to exist on the Continent. Only a handful in the Middle East and a rare, isolated member or two in the Far East remained.

Rebuilding
During the height of the Enlightenment, opium was reintroduced into Europe through a number of means. The medical community began widespread use of it as a painkiller. Laudanum, a mixture of opium and alcohol, became a popular remedy for a variety of complaints. Finally, the New World introduced Europeans and later easterners to the pipe, a Native American invention that made smoking opium — a practice discovered by Portuguese sailors — far easier.

At the same time, recreational use of opium became popular in Persia and India. The Dutch exported the drug — along with the pipe in which to smoke it — to China. British shipping spread the drug from India across southeast Asia. While conspiracy minded Kindred sometimes lay this explosion at the feet of the Anvari as a power grab, the truth is the bloodline had nothing to do with it. Certainly, they benefited from it, but at the time it’s unlikely they numbered more than a dozen or so due to the lingering effects of the Inquisition and the rapid spread of Islam. The truth is that mortals longed for euphoria as strongly as any Kindred, and opium could supply it on demand.

Regardless of the reason, the Anvari profited substantially from the expansion of the opium trade. Yet survivors of the Inquisition remembered all too well the dangers of their fellow Kindred. While they remained tied closely to the drug trade, they were careful to keep their involvement at arm’s length to defend against any return to harsh times. When they interacted with other vampires they presented themselves as Daeva. Only rarely did they coerce other Kindred through addiction. As the bloodline extended tendrils this time, members were careful to remain behind the scenes.

Over the centuries, opium use waxed and waned, but always remained a part of mortal culture. Indeed, kine proved innovative in finding new ways to use the poppy flower. Laudanum gave way to morphine and morphine to heroin — each more addictive than the last. Society was woefully slow to recognize the dangers of narcotic addiction. Heroin was marketed by Bayer as a cough medicine as late as the end of the 19th century, and opium dens were so prevalent at the same time that San Francisco alone had over 300.

By the time mortal governments realized the dangers posed by narcotics, the demand was too widespread to stop. Laws and active enforcement served only to drive up prices and increase the power of the criminal element. In the end, the attempt to stem the tide of opium created a thriving black market that in turn financed powerful drug cartels.

This period also marked the greatest growth in the bloodline’s numbers, with the Anvari swelling to over a hundred throughout the world.

OBSESSION
Although the word “narcotic” is often used tonight to mean any illegal drug, it actually refers specifically to opiates and opioids. When used in reference to the Anvari, it always means opiates and opioids.

Tonight
In spite of increased legal powers and more sophisticated technology to combat illegal drugs, the percentage of the population addicted to narcotics in the western world is nearly identical to what it was over a century ago. To the Anvari, who’ve resisted the temptation to swell the bloodline in response, suitable vessels are more plentiful than ever. While Pushers as individuals seldom seek to rise in the ranks of a drug cartel, fringe involvement in the narcotics trade has benefited them enormously.

Nonetheless, they have not forgotten the lesson learned during the Inquisition. Though they must take care to not draw mortal attention, perhaps their most dangerous foes remain other Kindred who fear their pervasive influence.

Society and Culture
The fulcrum on which all Anvari actions rest is opium. They need it to feed satisfactorily, they use it to bind their herds to them, and most use it to provide for at least some of their financial strength. It’s possible for an Anvari to exist without narcotics, but why?

For most members of the line, opiates are more than merely drugs. They represent a way to recapture a portion of what was lost through the Embrace. Throughout much of mortal history, opium has held an almost religious awe for mortal society. Every culture introduced to it has proven willing to use all of the drug available. The Anvari believe that this craving is due to more than simple chemical craving. Most view partaking of opium as an almost sacred ritual, made all the more poignant by the fact they can no longer enjoy its effects directly. Even the most jaded and cynical Pushers regard it as more than just a drug.

Bloodline elders teach that Sepehr Anvari eventually achieved a state of sublime bliss through his communion with opium, becoming something more than Kindred or mortal. Some lineage members of both the Ordo Dracul and the Circle of the Crone believe their founder may have discovered a “backdoor” to Golconda. No proof is offered of either claim, but the Anvari maintain that they know at least the first step down the path to true enlightenment.

Doing Business
Narcotics tonight are plentiful. Heroin has overtaken cocaine in many areas as drug of choice. Oxycontin and other synthetic narcotics flood the market from legal sources, from family doctors to dentists to internet pharmacies. In many ways, it is now easier to get narcotics on the street than alcohol.

Despite a variety of options, the drug of choice for both Anvari and their kine is heroin. The supply is plentiful, it’s often mixed with other street drugs, and it can (contrary to movies and TV) be taken through a variety of means, not just by needle. New heroin users tend to shy away from injections for a variety of reasons, such as fear of contracting AIDS or hepatitis, a desire to avoid telltale track marks, or the fact that they simply don’t like needles. The purity of the drug from many suppliers has risen to the point that users can simply snort it. As a result, it appeals to a more affluent clientele, especially since upwardly mobile professionals have discovered that after the initial euphoric sensation they can function in the workplace and home without the telltale signs of other drugs.

The Anvari don’t have to work too hard to find addicts. Nearly one out of every 200 U.S. citizens is addicted to opiates in one form or another. Since few show signs identifying themselves as illegal drug users, the trick is finding them — and even that isn’t too hard. There are numerous mundane methods: criminal contacts, frequenting clubs or areas known for drug crime, prostitutes and even the internet. One of the first abilities Anvari develop is a sense for opiates, even in another’s blood, allowing them to locate suitable prey quickly.

While finding existing addicts is far from an insurmountable challenge, many of the bloodline prefer to “grow” their own herds from non-addicts. These vampires claim that turning a non-user into a user gives them a greater hold over the victim. Someone who’s avoided hard drugs is likely to hide his new problem from family and friends. This secrecy creates a deep psychological bond in the vessel, particularly when the vampire occasionally and subtly reinforces any feelings of guilt in the subject’s mind.

Mortal dealers employ a wide range of tactics for drawing in new blood. The Anvari know all of those tricks and then some. The highly addictive nature of narcotics makes their work easy. Peer pressure or free samples are often enough to get someone started, particularly a young teenager, down that slippery slope. Spiking other less dangerous drugs to build addictive chemistry is another method. A more aggressive approach is to get victims to take a single dose and then, while they’re reasoning is clouded, keep refreshing the dose over a period of nights until, by the time the dealer allows the effect to wear off, users are addicted. The innate Anvari ability to manipulate blood chemistry also gives line members a powerful tool for establishing a pool of vessels.

Dealing
It’s almost unheard of for an Anvari to rise very high in a drug cartel. Drug lords draw too much attention to themselves and their organizations. Colombian cartels are frequently the target of Colombian, British and U.S. military action. The entire opium industry in Afghanistan has been attacked by the former Soviet Union, the Pakistanis, the Taliban and most recently the U.S. Southeast Asian cartels contend with government troops, guerillas and bandits all at the same time. None of this attention stops the industry, but only a reckless Kindred would thrust himself into the middle of that intensity.

TALKING THE TALK
Very few people associated with drugs on a regular basis refer to them by their formal or chemical names. The street names for drugs change faster than virtually any other slang, often in an attempt to stay one verbal step ahead of the authorities. Using the wrong name for a drug is a dead-giveaway that one is either a poser or a narc.
Amphetamine: Amies, bennies, black beauties, bumblebees, speed
Cocaine (powder): Blow, booger, candy, coke, dust, flake, girl, snow
Crack or free-base cocaine: Apple jacks, bad, ball, bazooka, bones, breakfast of champions, bullion, caviar, pasta
Hashish and opium: Black hash, black Russian, soles
Heroin: AIP (from Afghanistan, Iran and Pakistan), antifreeze, brown sugar, China White, garbage, junk, Persian, smack
Heroin (Mexican tar): Black pearl, chocolate, Mexican mud, tootsie roll
Heroin and cocaine: Belushi, speedball
Heroin and free-base cocaine: Chasing and basing
Heroin and PCP: Alien sex fiend
LSD: Acid, Alice, Bart Simpsons, battery acid, blue heavens, Chinese dragons, windowpane
Marijuana: Acupulco Gold, African bush, airplane, baby, Barbara Jean, blanket, blunt, chronic, ganja, grass, herb, joint, pot, weed, 420
Marijuana and heroin: Atom bomb
Methamphetamine: Crank, crystal, meth, yaba
Meth and crack: Ice
Opium: Auntie, black, hop, laudanum, op, Paragoric, poppy
PCP: Angel, animal tranquilizer, blue star, Cadillac, cyclones, dust, fresh, hog, jet fuel, peace, shermies, surfer, tranks, zombie dust

At the other end of the scale, few Anvari stoop to directly dealing drugs on the street. It’s not from any ethical code, but rather a survival instinct. So many law-enforcement agencies line their pockets with drug and property seizures that dealing is a high-risk venture. Cops look for chances to grab a nice car, boat or house. Most U.S. states allow an agency to keep half the profits of any sale of seized material. With that sort of reinforcement, it’s no surprise that most departments keep a careful eye on traffic. Not that it works that well to stem the sale of drugs, but it is a lottery ticket few Kindred want to play.

Those who do deal directly do so on a small scale, say at an exclusive party or members-only club. Not only does this limit their exposure to law enforcement, it helps keep their herds manageable. A small clientele base allows an Anvari to keep track of who’s a habitual user and who uses only on occasion. “Social” users are usually cut off soon after the vampire identifies them. They’re unreliable as vessels and also less reliant on the Anvari as a supplier.

While the bloodline needs narcotic-laced blood to survive, those Anvari who deal often diversify their offerings. They may find that a new buyer hesitates to shoot up, but is willing to sample ecstasy. Or maybe just a dime bag of marijuana to start off. As time goes by, with a little sales talk and misplaced trust, the Pusher creates a heroine addict and vessel.

Anvari dealers frequently keep costs to their herds below street value. Doing so makes it more likely that a vessel keeps coming to the vampire for her supply. The Anvari also hopes that by keeping the product cheap, the user buys — and uses — more. And a low cost makes it less likely that an addict has to resort to crime to fund her habit. This last reason doesn’t arise out of any concern for society’s laws or even the wellbeing of the addict, but from the fact that if the user gets busted, there’s a good chance she might turn her supplier in to cut a deal with the cops. Ultimately, even at a reduced cost, the profit on narcotics is considerable.

Most line members deal through third parties. The Anvari may provide a location suitable for transactions, such as a club or hotel, but otherwise keeps his hands clean of any connection. That approach keeps suitable kine handy without the risky legal entanglements. The drawback is that the vampire doesn’t have as much direct control over addicts, but for many the safety factor outweighs the convenience.

Others remain as removed as possible from the narcotics trade. They keep only a small supply on hand and distribute it to only a few close and trusted vessels. Although U.S. drug laws don’t differentiate on the amount of heroin or other narcotic in one’s possession, most law-enforcement agencies are so focused on numbers and statistics that a low-key operator can usually fly under the radar.

Feeding
One of the biggest dangers to Anvari Kindred is that they develop a personal addiction to narcotics. It’s inevitable given their need to frequently consume narcotic blood. While some show no trepidation for this fate and a few actively seek it, some take steps to avoid it. After all, they’re well aware of the power opium offers over their vessels. Few are willing to allow another to have that hold over them.

When feeding from a vessel under the influence of a narcotic, an Anvari suffers the full effects of the drug, just as if she had taken it herself (see “Drugs,” p. 176 of the World of Darkness Rulebook).

A common practice among the Anvari is to feed from a clean vessel every two to three nights. Since a Pusher has to take more blood than normal means she usually has to have more than one clean vessel from which to feed, or she needs to allow one time to recover before returning to him. Some solve the problem by maintaining a few non-user members in a herd, while others simply take to the streets and hunt like most Kindred.

Another way in which Anvari avoid addiction is to feed heavily one night and then fast for a night or two. The drawback is that a vampire may find her Vitae reserves short on one of the fasting nights should she have to fuel Disciplines or perform other supernatural feats. Regardless of how a vampire chooses to deal with addiction, an Anvari walks a fine line. The source of the bloodline’s unique power constantly threatens to cut members as deeply as it does their vessels. Many Anvari are consumed with loathing for brethren who succumb to deep addiction, perceiving them as weak or traitorous to their “higher calling.” It’s not unheard of for Anvari to occasionally embark on unsanctioned hunts to eliminate a badly addicted member of their kind.

WITHDRAWAL
Any character addicted to narcotics who avoids taking a drug for more than one or two nights suffers withdrawal. The character experiences nausea and vomiting (of blood), cramping, tremors and anxiety. All dice pools and Resistance traits such as Defense suffer a –2 penalty. Furthermore, a Willpower point must be spent each night that the vampire wishes to take any actions other than stay in her haven, fighting symptoms. Assuming the character continues to avoid taking the drug, withdrawal effects last for seven nights and then subside. Psychological addiction to drugs may last years, however.

Members of the Apollinaire bloodline are champions of death. They are the favored children of Ghede, the loa of death and keeper of the eternal crossroads. Members of the bloodline have unique abilities bestowed upon them by Ghede, allowing them to open and close the gateways to the land of the dead. They are loyal servants of the Baron and are granted dominion over the dead by the loa.

For one night a year, Ghede gives up his charge as Lord of the Dead to members of the Apollinaire bloodline. On that night, the Gatekeepers take up his burden and patrol the shadowy borders between life and death, fighting back the dead who attempt to cross into the world of the living while their lord is absent. In exchange, for the remainder of the year, members of the Apollinaire bloodline enjoy the abilities granted to them by the Ghede.

History and Culture: Before the Haitian revolution, a vampire known only as Bokor Apollinaire grew to become one of the most influential Kindred of the first wave in St. Domingue. Apollinaire was a powerful houngan; it is said that he was favored by Ghede and that the vampire and loa came to an agreement that could benefit them both.

To hear the Apollinaire speak of it, Ghede was the first man who ever died. Since the dawn of Humanity, he has ruled over the dead and has controlled the gateways be-tween the world of the living and the dead. As centuries passed, Ghede grew exhausted from constantly maintaining the barriers between worlds. One night, he appeared before one of his most devoted and loyal servants, Bokor Apollinaire, with an offer.

“I grow weary of my charge,” the loa said. “You have shown your loyalty to me, and are among the most powerful of my houngan. If you agree to carry my burden for one night out of a year, I shall bestow upon you and those of your blood great power.”

Bokor Apollinaire was honored to have been chosen by Ghede, and accepted the proposal. Ghede plucked out Apollinaire’s left eye, and planted magic in the empty socket, granting him the ability to see the dead. Then, Ghede bestowed upon his loyal servant the power to rule over the dead and maintain the gateways of this world and the next. For one night a year, Ghede relinquishes his charge and duties as Lord of the Dead to the Apollinaire bloodline. Ghede then walks the streets in the guise of a human, drinking, feasting, dancing and reveling flamboyantly in mortal pleasures. While Ghede is absent, the Apollinaire bloodline patrols the borders between life and death, fighting back the ghosts who attempt to cross into the world of the living while their master is absent.

The night of Ghede’s absence is not fixed. He may choose to leave at any time, delegating his duties to the Apollinaire bloodline. As such, Gatekeepers must constantly be prepared for his signal. To alert the Gatekeepers, Ghede causes a glowing vévé to emerge with a slight prickling upon the forehead of those who carry Apollinaire’s blood. The mark signifies the authority granted to the bloodline by Ghede, and is visible only to those of Apollinaire’s bloodline and to ghosts. Vampires who fail to answer the call of Ghede are punished by the loa by being thrown into Twilight and left to fend for themselves, often leading to the Final Death of the Gatekeeper.

Some believe that Bokor Apollinaire met his Final Death during the Haitian Revolution, though members of his bloodline believe Apollinaire could never have died, having been the favorite of the loa of death.

A Ventrue is recognized as a member of the Apollinaire bloodline once he has sworn to honor the agreement between the founder of the bloodline and the loa. A ritual is performed, during which the initiate’s left eye is removed and Ghede possesses the body of the vampire. The character gains the ability Eye of Ghede (see below), making him a true Gatekeeper.

Although the Apollinaire are sworn to uphold the agreement between Bokor Apollinaire and Ghede, they are not required to take Ghede as their patron loa (see Kindred Vodoun on p. 73.), or, indeed, to become practitioners of Vodoun at all. While many choose to practice Vodoun, and the Apollinaire encourage new members to take Ghede as a patron, it is not mandatory. Once a Gatekeeper is acknowledged by Ghede as an Apollinaire, and he has sworn to take up the burden of Ghede for one night per year, he is free to lead his unlife as he pleases.

Reputation: Because of the Gatekeeper’s connection to Vodoun (despite the fact that members of the bloodline may or may not actually practice Vodoun), the bloodline has a negative stigma for vampires who adhere to traditional European values. As such, the bloodline is often looked upon with disdain, or even tense apprehension, by the Invictus and Lancea Sanctum.

The Ordo Dracul is particularly interested in the Apollinaire, as the bloodline’s connection to Ghede has clearly shown that Vodoun can be an effective means of altering the vampiric condition. Gatekeepers do not appreciate being looked upon as the result of some de- monic experiment meant to be studied, however, and do not typically offer assistance to the Ordo Dracul without good reason.

Concepts: Vodoun priestess, prison guard, wealthy traveler, vigilant guardian, eccentric magician, homeless vagrant, clairvoyant medium consultant, contraband runner, reclusive occultist, escape artist

Eye of Ghede

Ghede is often portrayed wearing dark sunglasses with one eye out, to symbolize his power in the worlds of the seen and the unseen. During the initiation to become a member of the bloodline, the initiate’s eye is removed from the socket, and the empty hole is filled with the magic of Ghede during possession. The Eye of Ghede looks like a constantly swirling, white mist contained within the Gatekeeper’s eye-socket. Once the “eye” is in place, the new Gatekeeper is able to see, hear and speak with ghosts (but not spirits). Additionally, the Apollinaire can detect their unseen presence, even if they are hiding or have chosen not to reveal themselves. Finding an unseen ghost is a contested action, pitting the vampire’s Wits + Composure against the ghost’s Finesse + Resistance.

Since the first temples were built, mankind has been fascinated with the meaning of buildings and the power of architecture. Standing stones erected to face the sun at the equinox, and palaces built to impress and cow the populace were combined with cosmology and sacred geometry to create complex and powerful forms and ideals for the glory of God, king and self. Nearly every culture has used these principles to one degree or another, shaping its world while shaping itself. The vampiric Architects of the Monolith emerged from this impulse as it coiled into the fevered torpor-dreams of the bloodline’s megalomaniac founder. From this brew of madness and art, the “Masons” have conjured a form of undead sorcery that gives them power over cities, inspiring them to consider themselves the ultimate masters of the gilded cage.

It is such vainglory that drives the vampires of the line to form a grand conspiracy that they claim spans continents and centuries, a sweeping plot for dominion that will supposedly bring the world under their sway. The same vanity has incurred the wrath of the Lancea Sanctum and other undead to the point that the Architects have nearly been scourged from existence. Remaining Masons linger not with humility, but with an understanding that they must keep their true plans and powers concealed, lest the jealousies of “lessers” be their undoing.

In the modern nights, those few Damned who know of the Architects of the Monolith think of them as an eccentric brood of Ventrue. Those who have had any direct contact may know that the line clings to antiquated notions of architecture, following Napoleonic ideals of city planning and ritual to keep the kine pacified. An even smaller number know that the brood is actually a bloodline, begun in Paris in the late 18th century, closely linked to the Ordo Dracul and known for producing brilliant Guardians and Kogaion. Those who have had direct experience with the Architects speak of darker things, of madness and destruction, and the sensation of being looked upon as a god would a flea.

Although all of these rumors have an element of truth, the last are most accurate. Every member of the bloodline believes she can literally control the world by channeling mystical energy through the focus of looming architecture.

The line’s founder even believes her lineage can make cities the focus of reality, turning both God and nature into mere trivialities banished to the shadow of her monolith. Bound by this mad and impossible vision, the bloodline works secretly and circumspectly. The result is a cult motivated by madness, backed by visions of conquest, and powered by esoteric sorcery. Though members’ insane visions of dominance are only so much torpor-delusion, the harm they can cause is very real. After all, individuals sacrificed for their plans aren’t any less dead, and communities wracked by their “progress” aren’t any less ruined.

Covenant: Most of the few extant Architects are affiliated with the Ordo Dracul. It was from the Order that they arose as a conspiracy and bloodline, and their ties with the covenant remain. It is even said that the line founder is a leading member of the Sworn of the Mysteries. While the Dracul see the Architects as too concerned with power and not attentive enough to personal transcendence, Masons still occupy a privileged position in the society. An unusually high proportion of Architects act as Kogaion. The fact that the Order expects and even encourages its members to conduct private investigations and occult experiments makes it a perfect home for the Architects. This hardly means that all Dragons are comfortable with the Architects, as the Order suspects the depths of the line’s madness, but the covenant is generally willing to give the Masons a chance to overcome their limitations — within reason.

Other Architects tend to be members of the Invictus. Though they often lack the formal occult teaching of Order members, Invictus Masons are still valuable to the bloodline for the political clout and connections they wield. Since conspiracies of power are the bread and butter of the First Estate, insightful Invictus Princes enjoy having Masons under their thumb in the urban night. A smart First Estate Prince or Priscus can even ply an Architect without causing himself too much harm, so long as he’s careful to play upon the line member’s madness to keep her under control.

Very few Architects become Princes themselves; it’s too public a position. They tend to do well in a Primogen capacity and often take Regencies over domains of construction, city hall or other areas that allow them to affect urban development. The rank and file of the Invictus are leery of Masons, uncertain of their occult dealings and put off by their overt madness.

There are very few Architects in any of the other covenants. The Carthian mindset doesn’t sit well with the ideals of control and mystery that dominate the bloodline. The unaligned often lack the power and connections valued by the Architects. The Circle of the Crone has no Architect members, as the phallus-centric paradigm of the Masons puts them fundamentally at odds with the Crones. And yet, the Architects would very much like to seduce knowledge of Crúac away from Acolytes in order to forward their own interests.

Longstanding members of the Lancea Sanctum have a special place for the Masons in their unbeating hearts. Not just because the Architects were founded by an apostate Cardinal and carry their founder’s blood-taint, but because the bloodline was once foolish enough to pit its sorcery against the Sanctified. The Masons are nearly as loving toward the Spear, as survivors remember (or have been beaten down with stories of) the nights when the Sanctified fell upon the lineage. While Masons are smart enough to avoid open hostility with the covenant, they would dearly love to strike back for their past humiliation. Of course, should the Sanctified find out that the Architects are still fully engaged in their blasphemous plans to take God’s power as their own, history could repeat itself.

Appearance: Members of the bloodline are every inch Ventrue, though they tend to be modern rather than conservative in their personage and apparel. Most old members are of European derivation, with a preponderance of French members with that famous Gaelic nose. In the modern nights, there are increasing numbers of Hispanic and Japanese members, as well as Americans of mixed background. All Masons dress well, generally in business attire, sometimes with a French flair designed to remind them of their glory days in Paris. A very few elders yearn for the days of Worth gowns, swashbuckling cuffs and hussar boots, and take formal parties as an opportunity to revel in their golden age, but few are so out of touch to think such apparel suited for nightly wear.

Haven: As the would-be masters of urban civilization, nothing but the best can serve as a haven for one of the Masons. Sixtieth-story penthouse condos with secret rooms, safety vaults and full security are possible, designed to be impregnable while maintaining the image of powerful nonchalance. Sprawling villas or small mansions with perfect French gardens in the high style of Le Notre are popular, though Masons in young and populous cities have had to give them up to maintain the Masquerade. Other than quality and elegance, the common feature of all Architect havens is that they are in someway imposing, impressive or mystically significant. Be this a fine historical pedigree or an avant-garde sense of space, something about a haven makes it “mystically powerful” in a twisted interpretation of sacred construction. Many Architects keep truly eye-catching elements confined to the interior of a haven, so as to avoid notice, while others ensure their havens disappear into the cityscape, despite their haute couture.

Background: Being Ventrue, the Architects take only childer who seem the best to their skewed perceptions. The main traits considered desirable are a craving for personal power and control; extensive knowledge of architecture, urban studies, city planning or the occult; and the ability to exist independently and quietly. This combination of requirements leads to many members being from mixed corporate and academic backgrounds, with a preference for those who are both well-educated and successful in businesses, such as in real estate and urban development. Above and beyond all else, each prospective Architect must prove her ability to keep a secret. The Masons have a natural flair for secrecy and dissembling to rival that of the Mekhet.

Other Ventrue who meet Architect standards can be adopted into the line. An Architect most likely approaches a prospective member, and then only after the candidate has been circumspectly but thoroughly tested on his initial sanity, ability to keep secrets and compatibility with the bloodline’s goals. These tests are generally hidden in the nightly politics of the Requiem, with false alliances and information being given and fake agents sent to trick, bribe or coerce information from the potential recruit. He is deemed of merit only if he can impress his assailant-adopters. Once a subject has been found worthy, the Architects approach obliquely, carefully sounding him out and making him take fearsome oaths before bringing him into their august ranks.

Character Creation: Chosen and groomed for mental acumen backed by social strength and secrecy, Architects tend toward high Mental and Social traits. Members have above average Resolve, Intelligence and Composure. It’s a rare Mason who doesn’t have a deep interest in and knowledge of the mysteries of sacred and mystical architecture, leading to a high level in Occult. Just after the mystical comes immersion in the theory of Academics, the practice of Crafts and the knowledge of Science as each relates to architecture, construction, gardening, demolitions and urban planning. Politics and Socialize are considered practical tools needed to impose one’s vision on the world, without being a primary focus. The splendid mansions, penthouses and castles of the Architects require a high level of Haven. Connections with urban-development offices, city government, architectural firms and construction companies require dots in Allies, Contacts, Resources and Status (among mortals). Despite social connections and Ventrue blood, few line members have Status in vampiric circles, due to their low profile and the madness that makes others shun them. Any character who immediately starts down the path of an Architect rather than as a mere land-speculating Ventrue needs a second dot of Blood Potency.

Organization: The Architects of the Monolith is a group of madmen and women overseen by a demoniac. From her palatial Parisian haven, Ermenjart la Charpentière rules her childer with power, fear, oaths and blood bonds. The elder has been active and alert, avoiding torpor for the existence of the bloodline, and her grasp on it is sure. In order to maintain control of her brood and to allow her to pursue her insane goals, she has turned the bloodline into something between a cult and a corporation, parsing out control and authority through a series of grandiosely titled subalterns.

Ermenjart herself is recognized as “The Carpenter” (“la Charpentière”) and does everything in her power to turn herself into a messianic figure for her childer. She promises them a new world based on their creations, a vampiric Zion in which all power will flow through urban channels to feed the Architects. Due to the weakness of the bloodline, almost every member accepts this goal wholeheartedly.

Under the Carpenter is the Main de Gloire, the trio of her eldest childer who govern the line when Ermenjart is too busy “bringing about the new salvation of steel, concrete and blood.” Decorated with titles and ranks, this triumvirate should have great authority, but the truth is the Main de Gloire is too divided by its own vision and madness to be effective in coordinating any united action of the line. The three are, however, extremely effective at punishing any Mason who betrays them or Ermenjart.

Beneath the Main de Gloire, the organization breaks down by location. Most cities are still beyond the reach of the bloodline’s limited numbers; many major cities are home to only a single Architect. Such a solo operative is known as a Lion de Zion. Lions work directly for the Main de Gloire, receiving bizarre and often contradictory orders that are supposed to further the great work. These representative tend to get very good at interpreting the Main de Gloire’s orders to fit their own particular madness, and spend much of their time furthering personal goals.

About a dozen of the most important cities in the world — New York, London and Moscow among them — have a cabal of Architects known as a Section d’Or. Each group is lead by a Clef de Voûte, who answers to the Main de Gloire and who ostensibly works with other cities’ Clefs de Voûte. A Clef de Voûte leads other Architects in a city, coordinating their individual projects toward the greater plan. Each member of the Section d’Or is theoretically responsible for her own domain, but in some cities the Clef de Voûte micromanages every aspect of Architects’ operations. Of course, groups and individuals have also become very good at interpreting mad orders from above to fit their individual delusions.

The Architects are most powerful in Europe and on the American East Coast. European Masons still rebuild from the carnage that the world wars inflicted, which has allowed American members in Chicago and New York to catch up. In the last 30 years, a few radical Lions have managed to gain the approval of the Main de Gloire with daring work in developing nations in South American and southeast Asia, taking credit for achievements such as the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur (which they in fact had very little to do with). The bloodline also has aspirations of expanding into Japan, where megacity and neocity research and development promises massive rewards.

Concepts: Ruthless real-estate mogul, urban studies or geology professor, demolition expert, creepy architect, necropolis designer, urban-renewal politician, science-fiction writer/futurist (specializing in super-cities and arcologies), public-works engineer, master of traffic and transit, feng-shui mystic, ley-line tracker, urban spiritualist, landscaper/gardener, Napoleonic throwback

History
In the late 17th century, Ermenjart la Charpentière was a heretic against the Lancea Sanctum. She was newly risen from torpor and tormented with half-understood memories of building Louis IX’s Parisian Sainte-Chapelle, and working with great mystics in Prague. Her quest for comprehension brought her to the Ordo Dracul and they taught her about ley lines and mystical correspondence. Synchronicity brought her in contact, however briefly, with André Le Norte, architect and gardener for Louis XIV, and from that meeting Ermenjart gained vision.

Her newly inspired dream was of necropoli that would channel and control energy, using it to provide sustenance for the vampiric condition. For nearly a century she influenced and was influenced by mortal necrographers, resulting in mystical influence over the Pêre Lachaise cemetery in Paris. Upon the opening of the cemetery in 1804, Ermenjart realized that not only did construction of the place affect interior ley lines, it warped the flow in the surrounding city, changing the behavior of kine in surrounding neighborhoods.

This realization brought Ermenjart to her full vision: the manipulation of ley lines through sacred architecture to control cities, turning them into the center of reality. It was a megalomaniacal dream of nightmarish proportions, and Ermenjart knew she could neither accomplish it alone nor trust outsiders with the plan. (It’s also possible that some deep-seated part of her knew her vision was impossible, and she would not share it for fear of being confronted with the truth.) So it was that a bloodline emerged from la Charpentière’s efforts to see her plan to fruition, yet to keep it secret among trusted childer.

The early Architects used their Ventrue ties to gain influence and standing with the builders, planners, contractors and mystics of Paris. When Georges Haussmann began his renovation of Paris under Napoleon III, the bloodline was behind the scenes, learning and manipulating. Members were convinced that they had mastered the ley lines of Paris when they unlocked the secret sorcery of the Gilded Cage. That marked the golden age of the line, when the most members were Embraced and inducted, a time that elders now remember with nostalgia bordering on idolatry. To this day, the Paris of the Napoleons is upheld as an example of what the Architects can do, and of the world the Carpenter would create. Glittering, decadent, beautiful and utterly corrupt.

The golden age came to a crashing end when Ermenjart and the Main de Gloire overreached themselves and used sorcery to destroy a handful of Lancea Sanctum Bishops whom they felt opposed their plans. This outrage led to a backlash that shattered the Architects in London and Vienna, and left even the Paris faction decimated. The Carpenter learned her lesson and slunk into the shadows, letting the Sanctified think they had put and end to her machinations.

After years in hiding, the Masons spread slowly and quietly through many of Europe and America’s greatest cities. The dangers of travel and the still-angry Sanctified claimed several of the less cautious, but Section d’Or were soon established once more in London, New York, Chicago and Vienna. Meanwhile, young Lions established themselves in any city where they felt they could make a mark. With every new Gilded Cage ritual discovered, the bloodline was convinced it moved that much closer to world domination, and so continued plotting. The brood weathered the world wars and “great enemies” such as Daniel Burnham (who probably never knew the Architects existed), and moved into the age of skyscrapers and urban development with a grace that few other Ventrue could match.

As of the 21st century, the Main de Gloire estimates that the “great work” still has 450 years left until its completion, putting it slightly ahead of its original A.D. 2600 projection. Ermenjart herself wonders if she may have been overly conservative, however. With “triumphs” such as the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur and the possibilities they open in developing Third World nations, perhaps the plan can be accomplished sooner. In these nights, the founder dreams of a world with cities as reality itself, wilderness reduced to mist and ash, and all the power of ley lines flowing into her hands. Perhaps it can all be accomplished before the turn of the next century! From her, the force of these dreams spreads through the bloodline, urging members to further madness and power, demanding that they become masters of their cities, no matter how much blood must be used
as mortar for the bricks.

Society and Culture
Ermenjart is the undisputed master of the Architects. Elders are blood bound to her, giving her a tight grip on the most powerful Clefs de Voûte. They, in turn, often blood bond their childer to make sure that the line’s mission proceeds without dissension in the ranks. A few young members see no need for such draconian measures, as they find the carrot of power, coupled with their own inherent madness, more than sufficient to keep their ambition in order. The selectivity with which new members are initiated also contributes to making the Architects a tight lineage. While it bears all of the usual rivalries of undead existence, each member knows where he stands. No matter how intense hatred from within becomes, anyone on the outside is automatically an enemy and potential inquisitor.

Nightly activity is mostly occupied with the politicking and hunting that dominates vampiric existence. Members also work toward the fulfillment of their great, deluded dream, building their imagined monolith brick by brick. How exactly an individual answers this call depends on her place and roll in the line. A Clef de Voûte’s time is occupied with keeping her Section d’Or coordinated. Members of a Section d’Or focus on their individual areas of talent, attempting to interweave the mortal, mystical and vampiric through all levels of their portfolio. They also spend a great deal of their time politicking, as they are the Architects most likely to battle over esteem and territorial disputes with other vampires. Not to mention that they often have their eyes on the Clef de Voûte’s position, either in their own city or in another. Lions de Zion have to do all of the above, acting as both Clef and Section for a city, without the direct backing of others. It’s a rare Lion who can actually advance his plans, as it takes both great subtly and vast aggression.

They types of projects that receive the nightly attention of Lions and members of the Section are wide and variable. Members of the Ordo Dracul focus on causing, dealing with and tracking ley-line shifts. That can include anything from studying the effects of wind dispersion from a new skyscraper to the energy created by a sewer or subway line. It also means playing shadow games with mortal mystics or Crone witches, and devising new, more complex and bloodier rituals. Members of the Invictus focus on playing power politics with other vampires, manipulating city resources and fiefs to manage both vampiric and mortal zones of influence, and keeping Mason activities beneath the notice of Prince and Primogen. In addition, there is any number of seeming illogical and random demands thrown into the mix, driven by the particular focus of any Mason’s madness.

Every bloodline member is involved in architecture and city planning in some way, though it need not be a directly obvious connection. Some specialize in coercing and bribing city planners into rezoning areas for development, or to allow construction of buildings that violate zoning laws. Others focus on gaining resources and funding for such construction, or stirring up fear and paranoia in neighborhoods so as to make them easier to rezone and keep the herd’s focus off encroaching expansion. Others put on architectural fares and exhibitions, trying to pick mortal minds for new ideas, or they infiltrate college faculties to gain access to the newest and brightest as potential blood members.

Others focus on less obvious endeavors, such as using origami to find more efficient building models, doing studies on how various materials channel mystical energy, or inquiring into how television shows influence the mental terrain of a city. How much respect Architects are given for such enigmatic pursuits depends on their ability to convince others of their utility. If a member can convince peers that her study of eggshells will yield great results 200 years down the line, she garners almost as much respect as the Mason who influences the construction of a 110-story skyscraper. If she can’t convince anyone of her purpose, she may quickly be reduced to obsolescence.

Among certain circles of Kindred — especially among the Ordo Dracul of eastern Europe — the Nosferatu bloodline known as the Azerkatil are infamous and legendary: it is the bloodline bred to destroy Dracula.

According to the Rites of the Dragon, when the Impaler returned to Castle Dracula around the year 1475, he found Turkish vampires — which he called ghuls — residing there in the darkness. Those Kindred were Invictus from Adrianople, the Ottoman capitol of the Impaler’s time. They defeated Dracula in battle that night, but in so doing stirred him to seek out more of their kind in Adrianople.

Between 1475 and 1480 A.D., Dracula tracked, observed and studied the Turkish ghuls of Adrianople’s bazaars and palaces. Tonight, little is known of what precisely Dracula learned of the Turkish Damned, but it seems clear that, from the end of the 15th century onward, some Kindred of the Ottoman Empire knew about him and, later, the Ordo Dracul. Tales of the vampire- dragon, Embraced by God, circulated throughout the Kindred courts of the Empire. Like dragons themselves, these stories grew longer and more fearsome over the years. They coiled together and slithered into tangled tales of venomous hate and bloody wrath.

To protect the Kindred of the Ottoman Empire and confront the old enemy of the mortal Sultan, a handful of dedicated warriors and assassins gave their Requiems to the service of their undead caliph and succumbed to the mystic experiments of Turkish blood sorcerers. They became the first “Dragonslayers” — ghuls dedicated to the pursuit and elimination of the Wallachian demon known as Dracula.

The Court of the Red Sultan

In the nights of the 16th century, a powerful society of ghuls concerned with protecting Ottoman Kindred from outside threats, from occult menaces and from the hungry jaws of other vampires was operating in Constantinople. Not much remains of that society tonight —not much that is easy to find, at any rate. Modern knowledge of that ghul faction exists primarily in the form of confused legends, badly weathered rumors and the hazy memories of the most ancient Azerkatil. In its night, however, it was known as the Court of the Red Sultan (sometimes called the Blood Sultan), who may or may not have once been a Prince of Adrianople (tonight called Edirne). It seems likely that the Red Sultan was himself Invictus, but that his followers included sorcerers of an Islamic creed of the Lancea Sanctum and Acolytes of the Crone. The Red Sultan’s Court, it seems, was a kind of mystic guard for the Princes of Turkey — they practiced blood rituals and created ghoulish soldiers for the defense of the Damned of the Ottoman Empire.

The Red Sultan himself was a paranoid occultist and brilliant thinker. In his time, he was renowned by his Court as a master of mathematics and science. He may even have been a sorcerer in his own right, and might have been the equivalent of the Bishop of Constantinople into the 17th century. The Sultan vanishes from Kindred lore in the late 1600s, possibly falling into torpor as a result of his presumably considerable age. Without his leadership, his Court seems to have dissolved into smaller, competing coteries of self-serving mystics.

Legends of the Dragon

It’s unclear tonight exactly when the Red Sultan first became aware of Dracula the Damned, but is easy to see that the Court had little first-hand contact with the Impaler. Rather, they were reacting to overblown tales of “the damned dragon, the Impaler returned from beyond death.” It seems the Court believed Dracula to be a bloodthirsty monster more fearsome than common Kindred. One account written a Turkish Kindred of the 16th century and discovered by the Ordo Dracul in Istanbul in 1924 describes Dracula as “a demon escaped from the Pit to drink the souls of the Damned in death as he did the blood of the living in life… he is as much vampire as devil.” They called him, simply, “the Dragon.”

Some tales of the time claimed the Dragon could consume blood through his fingers, transform himself into a great serpent and breathe fire. Other stories depicted him as a skinless figure with two mouths that flew screaming through the night. His fingers, it was said, were like knives and his tongue was a venomous snake. His scream was thought to drive mortals and Kindred insane.

The Red Sultan and his sorcerers believed Dracula was creating an undead army in preparation for a bloody return to Turkey and a conquest of the Ottoman Empire. They were terrified that the Impaler, who was mad in life, would be uncontrollable in undeath. They feared that Dracula — who might not be a vampire at all, but the recipient of some other unholy curse — would destroy the secrecy that kept the Kindred safe and plunge the Empire into a supernatural war.

To save the Empire, and all Kindred, they created the Azerkatil.

Fathers of the Dragonslayers

The Red Sultan, unwilling to wait for the Dragon to come and threaten the Empire, demanded his sorcerers conceive a force of assassins to locate and destroy Dracula. In response, the Court experimented with many changes of the Blood, mystically altering the Vitae of newly Embraced ghuls to create a breed of the Damned capable of facing off against the Dragon’s considerable powers. It’s impossible to know how many Kindred gave themselves up to the Court’s experiments and changed their blood at the order of the Sultan’s sorcerers.

No Azerkatil knows the whole truth of the bloodline’s creation. It’s said that Kindred of every clan were subjected to arcane rituals to influence the properties of their blood. As desirable mystic traits emerged, the subjects were consumed — diablerized — by other vampires of the court. In time, the Sultan thought, the right collection of mystic qualities could be absorbed into the Vitae of a single vampire, and that vampire would become the progenitor of a new lineage of deathless assassins. In time, it seems, the Sultan was proved right.

The blood of the Azerkatil contains mystic power drawn from the Vitae of an untold number of clans and short-lived bloodlines populated by lone vampires. The Azerkatil’s unique Discipline contains grains of power sifted from the diablerized souls of countless extinct bloodlines. The weakness of its blood comes, in part, from the last of the Court’s subjects, from the vampire that first manifested the change of Vitae that pleased the Sultan.

The true founder of the Azerkatil bloodline is lost to history, however. All that is known of that mysterious ghul is that he or she was a Nosferatu, as the Red Sultan is believed to have been. Some Dragon historians speculate that the Red Sultan himself was the Kindred who consumed the earlier subjects and became the father of the Dragonslayers.

The secret sect of the first Dragonslayers was made up of mortal mercenaries, soldiers and assassins chosen by the Red Sultan and Embraced into the bloodline by two or three followers of the first Azerkatil Avus. Those first sires were not dispatched to Europe by the Sultan, and all the vampires who once knew the first Azerkatil are either asleep, destroyed or keeping quiet. The so-called First Dragonslayers are therefore not actually the first of the line at all. Rather, they are the original force of assassins assembled and dispatched by the Sultan in the 16th century.

The Name

The name “Azerkatil” is something of a mystery itself. Half of the name seems to be the Turkish word katil, meaning “killer” or “murderer,” but the other half is unclear. The word azer meaning “fire” might be drawn from the Greek spoken throughout portions of western Turkey, but it’s just as likely that the name is some abstruse invention of the Red Sultan. Historically, most Azerkatil refer to themselves simply as Dragonslayers in whatever language they like.

THE RED SULTAN

If the Red Sultan vanished in the late 1600s and reappeared tonight, in 2005, it might mean he’d laid torpid for almost 300 years. That suggests a Nosferatu of about Blood Potency 6 and with a Humanity of 2. If he really was the first Azerkatil, he probably has considerable control over the bloodline’s unique Discipline, Suikast. If he never became a Dragonslayer himself, perhaps he was a part of some other bloodline, and knew first-hand of the possibilities of willing changes into the Blood. If your chronicle is making use of the Vampire sourcebook Bloodlines: The Hidden, the Sultan might even be a member of the Rakshasa bloodline detailed in that book.

Mission Against the Dragon

The facts of the Dragonslayers’ mission are clouded by dreams of torpor. Every one of the Azerkatil that survived the initial mission against the Dragon had gone into torpor by the 19th century as a result of mystic rituals and efforts of will to increase the potency of their blood. Most of the First Dragonslayers are still thought to be torpid tonight, though the exact number that survived to the modern night is uncertain.

The First Dragonslayers were dispatched from Constantinople to Europe over a period of roughly twenty years in the middle of the 16th century. None of the First Dragonslayers, therefore, knew exactly how many of their brethren had undertaken the mission against the Dragon with them. Six Dragonslayers, it’s rumored, set out on the first night, however, bound for Castle Dracula.

The Dragonslayers’ mission was not simply to eliminate the Dragon, however. The Red Sultan needed to know what terrible forces the Dragon was amassing and what other vampires might be conspiring with him. Thus the Azerkatil were meant to scour the land for all information available about Dracula and the rumored “Order of the Dragon.” If possible, the Azerkatil were to infiltrate the ranks of the Order and get close to its leaders. “Let the Dragon’s pulse dictate your hour to strike,” the Red Sultan was rumored to say. “Be patient, but do not hesitate.”

It’s difficult to track the history of the Azerkatil during those early nights. Some modern Dragonslayers speculate that their forebears worked in small groups in the beginning, ambushing Dracula’s early followers and following blood trails back to the Order’s first chapter houses. Other Azerkatil enjoy the rumor that the great fire of Bucharest in 1595 was the result of a successful “dragon hunt.” At least one Dragonslayer was revealed in 1663 when she eliminated three masters of the Coils in Prague after studying with them for nearly twenty years. Most Dragonslayers, however, did not infiltrate the Order in such ways — most singled out and ambushed vic- tims they hoped would draw out more valuable targets.

Chasing A Myth

Inevitably, the Dragonslayers discovered the truth about the Ordo Dracul and came to see the hollowness of the Sultan’s fears. Some Dragonslayers realized the truth early on and abandoned their mission. Most kept their doubts to themselves and continued to stalk the Ordo Dracul for decades, looking for the true threats behind their philosophizing and mystic experiments.

By the end of the 16th century, however, with the Red Sultan gone and his Court splintering back in Constantinople, the mission against the Dragon had all but unraveled. The Dragonslayers, scattered throughout Europe and the Mediterranean, drifted away from their directive like boats cut loose from a pier.

Eventually, most every Azerkatil had to accept the truth: Dracula was no demon. The Dragonslayers had given their Blood in pursuit of a myth. Their mission would never be complete.

A few Azerkatil returned to Turkey in search of vengeance against the paranoid fools of the Court, but most had become too disillusioned with their old masters to make the perilous journey back to Constantinople from Europe. In fact, more than a few of the Azerkatil turned to the Ordo Dracul for their futures. The assassins had good reason to pursue new changes in their blood, after all. With eternity sprawling darkly before them, many Azerkatil were desperate to find a new reason to go on, a new way to take control of their destinies.

Dragonslayers and the Ordo Dracul

Looking back, it can seem strange that the Ordo Dracul would accept its enemies into its ranks. In practice, of course, there was never any meeting of the covenant in which it was decided that the Dragonslayers would be welcomed into the ranks of the Dragons. Surely a few Azerkatil continued to be enemies of the Dragons; certainly a few are tonight. The circumstances of each Dragonslayer’s entry into the covenant were unique, but it is an odd fact of history that more than a few did become Dragons themselves — enough, at least, to inspire the generalization.

For the Ordo Dracul, the Azerkatil are an obvious source of fascination. They embody, by chance, both the central philosophy and the central methods of the Order: change and experimentation. The Azerkatil exist as a result of Dracula’s journey to Adrianople — they are an effect of his Damnation, manifested miles away and years after the change made to his own existence. What’s more, their unique blood is the result of mystic experimentation. In a way, the Dragonslayers are model Dragons.

In the centuries since the First Dragonslayers disappeared, the Azerkatil have come close to vanishing altogether. The First Dragonslayers were never intended to sire progeny, and indeed it seems the Red Sultan bred them to be a single generation of assassins, to prevent their prized blood from falling into the service of the Dragon. Still, enough Kindred have taken on the mantle of the Azerkatil to keep the bloodline in existence. The Order itself has facilitated this in some domains, to keep the line from dying out. Thus the Ordo Dracul can be seen to have adopted the Azerkatil, even though several of the world’s Dragonslayers continue to distrust and revile Dracula’s followers to this night.

Nickname: Dragonslayers. Some Slavic Kindred call them Traitors, however, for turning on their Turkish fathers. Some Turkish vampires call them the same.

Covenant: Though the Azerkatil bloodline is most often associated with the Ordo Dracul tonight, Kindred of this lineage cannot truly be said to hold any one loyalty in common. In truth, the Order was little more than the bloodline’s portal for passage into Western history. It’s through a quirk of fate that Dragonslayers are often thought of as members of the covenant they were created to destroy. It’s an oddity of the Dragons’ ancestral fascination that the Dragonslayers were accepted into the Order as products of Dracula’s time on Earth.

The first Dragonslayers were agents, indirectly, of the Invictus of Turkey. Tonight, Azerkatil are still likely to pledge their Requiems to the service of some undead ruler, though their master is as likely to be Sanctified as Invictus. Indeed, it seems Dragonslayers have an innate hunger for servitude, for a master to protect or an enemy to plot against. In this regard, an Azerkatil might become involved with any covenant by serving one of its leaders or figureheads.

Appearance: The vast majority of Azerkatil come from Near Eastern blood, even tonight. As predators of predators, Dragonslayers project an unnaturally dangerous image to mortals and Kindred alike — they stare like hungry tigers through the bars of a cage. This terrible dread is only exaggerated by the Azerkatils’ Nosferatu blood. Like the Nosferatu, no two Dragonslayers are exactly alike, but in this line a few features are common: inhumanly green eyes, widely spaced fangs, and spiny black hair.

Haven: The earliest Dragonslayers were nomads, roaming eastern Europe in search of Dracula and his offspring. In the nights since the first Azerkatil failed in their hunt, Dragonslayers have taken to nesting like any other Nosferatu. As a group, Azerkatil tend to place very little importance on personal comfort — many are effectively homeless, finding new sunless holes to sleep in every few nights. Instinctually, Azerkatil prefer havens that are remote and difficult to locate over havens that are close to food or even difficult to outright penetrate; a Dragonslayer would rather not be found at all than be well defended.

Background: If a stereotypical image of the Azerkatil exists, it is that of the first few encountered by the Ordo Dracul: adult Turkish men with several days’ worth of facial hair, powerful limbs and elaborate outfits befitting a courtly Ottoman assassin. Even tonight, the majority of Azerkatil are thought to be males of Turkish, Greek, Israeli or Syrian descent. Most Azerkatil, from the 16th century to the 21st, come from the ranks of mortal soldiers and mercenaries. Some have formal military training, some have experience as guerilla troops, but few are thugs.

Despite the stereotype, a large number of Azerkatil are (and were) women. Though very few Kindred become Dragonslayers anymore, it’s thought that more female vampires than male joined the Azerkatil line in the 20th century. This new generation of Azerkatil reflects the larger role female soldiers are playing throughout the world, and has brought new purpose to the line. They may change the perception of the bloodline from a directionless family of failed assassins to a tradition of devoted and deadly Archons in service of local Princes, like swords of Damocles.

Character Creation: Physical Attributes are vital to a Dragonslayer, who must be able to outclass even the most formidable opponents in hand-to-hand combat if they’re unique Discipline is to come into play. Skills such as Weaponry and Brawl are obvious choices. Combative Merits, such as Weaponry Dodge and the Two Weapons Fighting Style suit their purposes, as well. But in the modern night, when experience with bladed weapons is rare, Azerkatil are just as likely to focus on the other iconic abilities of the bloodline: Skills like Stealth and Intimidation. The First Dragonslayers relied on well-crafted ambushes and surprise as much as martial prowess.

Cunning, also, is vital to a Dragonslayer — dots in Wits describe an assassin that is alert and quick. Resolve and Composure give the character the Willpower necessary to face fearsome elders and put the Beast to use.

Many Dragonslayers have little use for high levels of City or Covenant Status, as recognition is seldom in their best interest. An Azerkatil is no less likely to learn a covenant’s unique Disciplines, however.

Organization: Though many older Dragonslayers quietly wonder how things would have been if they’d slain their Dragon — imagining a proud domain of Azerkatil Sultans and triumphant Regents in the dark mountains of Romania — tonight there is virtually no larger organization of Azerkatil. The majority of modern Dragonslayers dwell in domains with just one or two others of their kind, typically a sire, childer or Avus. Of those, a large number sulk in the shadows of old legends, knowing little more about their Blood than the tales told by Dragon historians.

Azerkatil are typically placed in one of two categories: the First Dragonslayers, and all others. Those first fearless Dragon-hunters are seen by many modern Azerkatil as heroic father-figures, despite their failure to slay the Dragon. If any of them remain tonight, they may lay torpid beneath the earth somewhere, intending to resume the hunt for Dracula when he returns to prowl the land again. They, no doubt, will have little love for the Azerkatil that spawned in their absence, against the intent of the Red Sultan.

Concepts: Assassin who has outlasted all his foes, assassin-for-hire, bodyguard, deserter from an undead army, Kindred terrorist, martyr-in-training, monster hunter, Ottoman Empire special forces soldier, reformed killer.

Condemned to eternal darkness, the sightless line of horrors known as the Baddacelli burrows through the network of catacombs that grow inevitably in the underground of all human cities. Whether lurking in collapsed sewer branches, abandoned subway stations, condemned basements or midnight labyrinths of their own construction, they hide — and hunt — in the dark places away from the sight of men and Kindred alike.

In these places, the Baddacelli dwell, shrouded in the darkness that is both their shield and their curse. Denied sight, they develop their remaining senses to preternatural levels and cultivate uncanny, horrifyingly effective abilities to aid in survival.

Everyone knows that sound can play tricks on you underground, but few suspect what a weapon sound becomes when touched by the unholy power of the Blood. When the Baddacelli infest the underground of a city, bereft mothers disappear into subway tunnels following the plaintive voices of lost children. Sewer workers separated from their crews hear their coworkers call from an unexpected direction and follow those voices — never to be seen again. Children hear the whimpering of lost pets coming from storm drains, and never realize until too late that a blind and hungry monster lurks in the darkness behind the wretched sounds. Enticing sounds that beg investigation, haunting echoes that confuse all sense of direction, chilling screeches that demand the listener flee ever deeper into the subterranean catacombs — all these and more drive unsuspecting victims to the waiting clutches of the Baddacelli.

The Kindred of this line are monsters and deceivers by nature. They have to be, in order to survive. Therefore, they approach the world through the lens of that to which they are accustomed — cloaking themselves in secrecy and warding off trouble with misdirection.

This is not to say that they just hide in their tunnels and ignore the world above; in fact, they are curious about the surface world, and drawn to it as only beings accursed to be forever separated from it can be. It is simply that they choose to touch the world the same way they hunt their prey: by bringing it to them unawares, and in manageable amounts.

In the early centuries after the fall of the Camarilla, infighting among the Kindred of the Roman Empire was at its peak. In one of these cities (Baddacelli legends differ as to which, though almost all agree it was within the bounds of modern-day Italy), one Nosferatu grew to prominence and took advantage of the chaos to Embrace in great numbers. He had been an exceedingly large Kindred, a fact that had earned him the appellation by which he was known to the vampires of his city: Botticello, or “The Barrel.” As his progeny grew to become a de facto faction of their own within city politics, they were in turn collectively referred to as the Botticelli, a diminutive form of their sire’s own name meaning “The Little Barrels.” The mutation of this name has accrued to the bloodline descendants of these Kindred, and predates the assumed provenance by several centuries.

Naturally, Botticello’s ascendancy made him many enemies — he was particularly known for humiliating rivals with uncanny impersonations of their personal foibles. Himself an unabashed pagan who still clung to the old Roman gods, he was particularly fervent in undermining and attacking the vampires of the Lancea Sanctum. It was perhaps only a matter of time before the conflict being played out in the city’s Elysium spilled over into outright violence. Over the next several years, the struggle took on the savage character of religious warfare fueled by strong personal hatreds on both sides.

In the end, Botticello was defeated, and the majority of his brood slain or scattered. He was captured by his rivals, who set about torturing him until Final Death. His remaining childer managed to rescue him, but not before his body was broken and both eyes burned from his skull.

Botticello and his loyal childer fled deep into the sewers and catacombs beneath the city. Initially, it is said, they planned to allow the elder to recover from his injuries and flee the domain. In time, however, it became clear that the injuries to his eyes were not healing. It was unthinkable for a blind vampire to attempt to traverse the wilderness between cities in those nights, and so Botticello stayed hidden away in the underbelly of the city he had once sought to rule. A few of his most loyal progeny chose to remain with him. However, as the years passed, the Baddacelli began, one by one, to lose their own sight, and rumors spread within the brood that the sorcerers of the Lancea Sanctum had placed a curse upon their line. Some of the brood fled to distant cities in the hopes that by separation they could avoid a similar fate.

It was not to be. In the years that followed, most of the surviving vampires of the line lost the world of light and color forever. In lands distant from their city of origin, they, too, fled into the underground of their new homes. There in the endless darkness they hid, slowly learning mastery of the special talents and rarefied senses that could bring them the prey they needed. Sometimes, a recently Embraced vampire would attempt to flee the curse of the Blood by desperately seeking out a new city to call home. But the Baddacelli curse would inevitably have its due, and a new brood of blind horrors would begin beneath a new city.

Tonight, members of the Baddacelli bloodline can be found scattered throughout Europe, the Americas and the Middle East. Several major cities play unwitting host to a brood of these blind nightmares. Even where other Kindred are aware of the Baddacelli’s presence, these secretive Kindred keep their true numbers and the details of their existence to themselves. The Baddacelli survive, and they hunt in their lightless demesnes, and few indeed are the Kindred who would be willing to follow the Baddacelli into their catacombs to learn more of them than that.

Covenant:
Generally, an entire brood of Baddacelli within a city will claim membership in a single covenant. The nightly struggle for existence means that the broods rarely have the luxury of being able to bicker over politics. As a result, pressure to conform can be intense within a Baddacelli family.

Baddacelli crave stability, as unexpected shifts in footing tend to throw them off. Thus, they are very sympathetic to the philosophy of the Invictus, though the Baddacelli rarely rise to prominence within that organization. Baddacelli are most likely to be found doing the bidding of Invictus Princes and Sheriffs, acting as spies and enforcers among street-level (or lower-than-street-level) Kindred. This is not to say that the Baddacelli are necessarily unsophisticated in the machinations of the covenant, or that they are particularly subservient by nature. Indeed, more than one Baddacelli has amassed significant behind-the-scenes power in Invictus domains. It is simply that they prefer to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible while seeking to maintain the stability that Invictus rule tends to bring to a given city.

On very rare occasions, a Baddacelli will take a bolder position by operating openly in the Elysium Courts and salons of the First Estate. In these circumstances, a clever member of the line can make quite a name for himself as a Player. The powers of the bloodline grant the Baddacelli particular skill in skewering opponents with scathing impersonations, dissecting them down to the last vocal nuance. Others use their developed hearing to serve as unparalleled Librettists and Interpreters, applying their discerning judgment to the many sounds of the Court.

The Circle of the Crone is also a strong draw for the vampires of the Baddacelli line. Subterranean imagery and tales of descent and imprisonment in the underworld abound in the stew of pagan religions that makes up the Acolytes’ faith. And it can hardly be argued that the Baddacelli do not suffer trials, or that they fail to find knowledge and strength in the midst of those tribulations. As a result, members of the Circle make up probably the second highest proportion of the bloodline after those in the Invictus.

Among the Crones, Baddacelli are respected for their adaptability in the face of great hardship. But even more, their companions in the Circle prize the Baddacelli’s vocal talents. A vampire of this bloodline who chooses to turn his talents to song can be a haunting performer, and a chorus of Baddacelli raising a hymn to the varied manifestations of the Crone is an experience that no witness can ever forget.

Those Baddacelli who fight the Curse, on the other hand, find succor in the Ordo Dracul, where they are prized for their ability to find and occupy Wyrm’s Nests that form below ground. At the same time, they pursue transcendence with a fervor unmatched by vampires who do not bear the bloodline’s burdens. The promise of overcoming the disadvantages of their state is motive enough for some Baddacelli to join the Ordo Dracul.

Those few Baddacelli who embrace their cursed state may join the Lancea Sanctum. Those Baddacelli who do are exceedingly zealous, more so than many of their compatriots. Morlock Spears see themselves as ideally designed to serve as God’s Damned Hunters within the subterranean realms they claim. Perhaps ironically, Baddacelli Priests often become popular confessors despite the unease they engender in others. Since Sanctified Priests traditionally take confession face-to-face, giving confession to a blind vampire who prefers lightless environments provides many Kindred with an illusion of anonymity that helps to set them at ease.

When Baddacelli join the Carthian Movement, it is often because they are intrigued by the Movement’s claims of an egalitarianism that the Kindred of this bloodline have learned not to expect from other covenants. Still, the Baddacelli are latecomers to the Carthian fold. Only as they have seen the relative stability of certain mortal governments that conforms to Carthian principles have the Baddacelli developed any faith that the Movement can achieve a lasting degree of change. Even so, only the most experimental of the lineage have gravitated to the Carthian Movement, and at present, they remain the smallest proportion of the Baddacelli population.

Appearance:
Baddacelli prefer functional, utilitarian coverings able to withstand the rigors of their subterranean existence.

Their clothes are often worn and mismatched, owing at least in part to their owners’ inability to see what they are putting on. Those Baddacelli who interact with the surface with any regularity prefer hoods or concealing headgear to hide the bloodline’s signature deformities.

The eyes of the Baddacelli are useless, and often deformed in some way that makes this obvious to onlookers. Whether the Baddacelli’s visual organs are shriveled to mere vestiges, swollen and clouded or even absent altogether, anyone who can clearly see their faces can tell that these vampires are denied sight.

Haven:
Baddacelli havens are frequently communal in nature, and almost always underground. It is simply too dangerous for the sightless Morlocks to dwell above ground, where an unseen crack in a wall or gap in the curtains could spell their doom with the rising sun.

Baddacelli take advantage of natural caverns and abandoned human constructions such as forgotten sewer chambers or decommissioned subway stations whenever possible, but will excavate their own tunnels when such convenient lairs are unavailable. Their havens are usually entirely lightless, or nearly so, and meticulously arranged with “landmarks” — objects placed so that the Morlocks who dwell there can easily memorize them and know their location within the unseen chamber, but guaranteed to impede the progress of strangers accustomed to relying on their eyes.

It is not unusual for Baddacelli broods to keep human herds caged in some portion of their communal haven. Since hunting can be a challenge, they are loath to waste a potential food source once it is caught.

Background:
Almost all Baddacelli are themselves the childer of other Morlocks — few indeed are the vampires, even among the Haunts, who would willingly choose their blind, subterranean existence. Given the rigors of their state, the Baddacelli seek potential childer who are emotionally resilient and already dwelling on the fringes of society. Fortunately for the bloodline, the sort of person who would enter and/or work in their domain in the first place frequently fit this description already. Often, the mortals they select for the Embrace are already blind, since many Baddacelli hope that their childer will not resent them for stealing their sight.

In recent nights, some Baddacelli have been seeking potential childer proficient with modern communications and technology to bring into the fold. As voice recognition and other compensatory technologies improve, many Morlock broods see greater possibilities opening up to improve their access to the surface world (or at least its wealth of information) without placing themselves entirely at the mercy of sighted Kindred.

Character Creation: Baddacelli tend toward high Mental and Physical Attributes, with one of these usually being Primary and the other Secondary. Social Attributes are almost universally lowest in priority.

Skills are usually distributed similarly, with perhaps a stronger emphasis on Physical rather than Mental abilities. Survival is highly valued, as are Stealth, Brawl, Crafts and Investigation. The Baddacelli often acquire Specialties that will help compensate for their blindness in areas of focus (such as “grapples” or “blind fighting” for Brawl or “working by touch” for Crafts). Social Skills tend to focus on Intimidation, Subterfuge and Expression, the better to facilitate survival and misdirection on the societal fringe the Baddacelli call home.

Only a rare Baddacelli who acquires any significant amount of Resources. The often communal living arrangements of Baddacelli broods lend themselves well to the acquisition of Mentors within the bloodline, as well as shared Haven (Location) and Haven (Security) Merits. Baddacelli who have taken to imprisoning captured mortals to ensure a steady supply of Vitae may represent this with Herd. Finally, a substantial number of these Kindred will also maintain a one- or two-dot Retainer, who serves the role of seeing-eye dog and errand-runner in the surface world.

BUT HE DOESN’T HAVE EYES !
Several vampiric Disciplines require eye contact in order to be effective. The Baddacelli are not prohibited from learning these powers, but what happens when a vampire who cannot see — who might not even possess eyes at all — attempts to actually use them?

Probably the simplest solution is to assume that someone looking into the Baddacelli’s eyes (or, in some cases, where the eyes should be) may be affected by the power in question as normal. Storytellers may wish to impose a dice penalty on the activation roll, however, owing to the difficulty in timing the use properly when you can’t actually see the eye contact. Other Storytellers may require the Baddacelli to develop particular Devotions in order to compensate (Auspex • + the Discipline in question would be appropriate).

Organization:
The Baddacelli tend to gather in familial broods, usually dominated by the eldest member present in the city (who is often, but not always, the Morlock from whom the others descend). Contact between broods of different cities is rare, as few Baddacelli are willing to risk the rigors of travel after the Blood’s manifestation robs them of their sight.

Customarily, brood members are expected to contribute to the maintenance of the communal haven, and to assist each other in hunting — especially the younger members for whom even acquiring enough Vitae to get by can be quite a challenge. Broods that have taken to keeping a captive herd often find it efficient to delegate responsibility for care and maintenance to a single Baddacelli. This individual usually holds quite a bit of sway within the brood, due to his ability to withhold access to the herd “to ensure the continuation of a healthy supply.”

Beyond these duties, individual Baddacelli are usually left to their own devices. The pecking order is otherwise pretty informal, with preference going to age (after all, few Baddacelli achieve a long unlife without some degree of wisdom) and ability to provide information on the surface world (provided security is maintained). A young Baddacelli with reliable surface contacts can make a comfortable place for himself within the brood.

The lowest status in a brood usually belongs to childer in whom the Blood has not yet manifested the Baddacelli’s specific curse. These young and sighted Kindred spend much of their time running errands for their elder, sightless broodmates.

Concepts: The thing under the tracks, pied piper, curious spelunker, mother of the lost, reclusive geologist, cryptozoologist, Braille teacher, underground musician, resentful engineer, has-been impressionist comic.

The Bak-Ra (literally, Servants of Ra) were once leaders of a great society of Kindred. They united the clans of Ancient Egypt when solidarity was needed most. They led by example, by fear and by wielding power that both terrified and awed their brethren. Once the Romans invaded the Kingdom of the Nile, however, the Bak-Ra found themselves being hunted down and persecuted for heresy and other crimes against the “one true God.” Many of the Bak-Ra decided to enter voluntary torpor as a means of escaping the insidious traps of the Roman Kindred, hoping to keep Ra’s greatest, most powerful secrets away from the mongrel Ventrue of Rome and their vampire puppets.

Unfortunately for the Bak-Ra, they were forgotten, left buried in their tombs for an unfathomable three thousand years, unable to awaken themselves, consumed by madness and trapped in the fog of time. Now, they have an unquenchable thirst for everything that was taken from them. For the Bak-Ra of modern nights, their only hope is to rediscover their history and locate the rituals, tools and abilities that made them what they once were. They are in a desperate search for their identity and clues to their place in modern nights.

Now, an irresistible drive to remember who they were, and what they were once capable of, fills their blood with renewed purpose and vitality. The Bak-Ra who have awakened in the modern nights have become obsessive scholars, doing everything in their power to relearn their history. Sadly, those who have managed to crawl up from their earthen tombs find that they are often the targets of scorn, ridicule and mockery. This only fuels their insane fervor more, feeding their Beast for the night that they can unleash it and exact their revenge.

Finally, it is important to note that all the Bak-Ra know about their past is what is available to the historians of the modern nights, along with the few fragments that individual Bak-Ra kept in their tombs. No known member of this bloodline has awakened with her memories intact.

Nickname: Servants of Ra, Childer of the Sun, The Sun-Stroked (derogatory)

History and Culture: It seems odd that a clan most noted for its aversion to the sun and affinity towards shadows should, in fact, not only worship the god of the sun, but claim to have once been able to walk beneath it as easily as any human. The power of Ra, however, remains within their collective souls. They fervently, obsessively, believe that they were once able to walk during the day, beneath the Sun, and they know for certain that it is only a matter of time before they remember how to do so again.

Perhaps the secrets are still hidden in one of their buried tombs. Perhaps one of their allies, the Usiri, has their secrets and memories stored in dream-space somewhere. Whatever the case, the Bak-Ra are intent on rediscovering their past glory. In the meantime, they endure the ridicule and spend much of their time in self-imposed exile, studying and waiting for the night when they can make the heretic invaders suffer for their transgressions.

What the Childer of the Sun know in their undead hearts is that Ra ruled the heavens and thus, it is only logical that his followers ruled the Earth. However, history tells them that Ra’s priests didn’t rule unilaterally, but rather that the Cult of Ra merely managed an already unified covenant of gods. Rather than provide comfort however, this information merely angers and confuses them. How could such disparate beliefs ever come to a consensus and unity? Why would Ra deign to share power with lesser beings?

And yet, every historical artifact discovered and every piece of information received leads the Bak-Ra to the realization that this was, indeed, the case. The possibility that their history is a lie, a fiction written by the murderous, invading Ventrue dogs of Rome, flames their already virulent distrust and hatred of the Lords. There can be, in their minds, no other plausible explanation for what has happened to them. Why hadn’t the others awakened them sooner? Where were the Anubi, the Usiri, the Hori or the Thothites? Why hadn’t they come?

The one thing that all Bak-Ra retain is their physical ties to ancient Egypt. They often appear in colorful, flowing gowns which are always adorned with scarabs and symbols of Ra somewhere on their person. Their havens display Egyptian artifacts as if they were artwork. Indeed, the Bak-Ra can often be seen creating new papyrus in the ancient style, perhaps as a way of relearning their culture. Whenever entertaining a perspective client, it is always remarked, later, that the look in the Bak-Ra’s eyes is one of joyous expectation, as if they know it is only a matter of time before the lesser “covenants” look up to them once again, begging them for Ra’s mercy and trembling in fear of the Sun God’s wrath.

The Servants of Ra disappeared from history and those who have been awakened do not like what they are learning of the past three thousand years. They harbor grudges against their former allies, the Usiri, the Anubi and the other cults of Egypt that still exist. They shudder at the thought that Ventrue hold so much power and that the gods are nothing but myths, parables and fables. This Lancea Sanctum troubles them, as does the Ordo Dracul and its progenitor. The Carthians make no sense to the Bak-Ra, for what is an existence without the gods to offer strength and guidance? Only the Circle of the Crone and the Agoniste bloodline offer them hope that they might regain some of their lost knowledge. Unfortunately, the Circle’s history is almost as muddled as their own and the Agonistes are unable to provide the Bak-Ra with what they really need.

A Terrifiying New World
Recently, a Sanctified coterie, searching for relics beneath one of the great pyramids of Giza, located a well-hidden entrance beneath the deepest of the known archeological digs. This opening dropped the coterie deeper into the Earth and fed into a trap-laden network of caves and crawlspaces. The coterie lost two of its members in the exploration, which eventually ended in the tomb of an ancient Kindred, still in torpor. The remaining vampires decided to awaken the sleeping vampire, curious as to what it was and, hopefully, prepared for what they would learn. He rose from his sleep enraged, claiming to be something called a Bak-Ra. He began screaming incoherently, and the coterie believed that he had been driven insane by the amount of time spent in torpor. The coterie quickly subdued the Bak-Ra and realized that they had discovered an ancient vampire who might offer them power beyond their imagination. They returned to the surface with their find and showed the ancient vampire what he had awakened to, hoping that he would understand the futility of his situation and go with them for further study and indoctrination into this terrifying new world he had been awakened into. The shock of seeing such dramatic change was enough to shatter what was left of his precarious sanity. He escaped the coterie and fled back into the depths of the Egyptian sands. The coterie attempted to track him, but lost the ancient in the tunnels. They left before sunrise and when they returned the next evening, they discovered that the entire network of tunnels beneath the pyramids had collapsed. Their prize was gone, and with him whatever secrets he may have held in his withered brain.

Reputation: The Bak-Ra are considered eccentric and excitable misfits. They have a reputation among Kindred of the modern nights as neonates with delusions of grandeur, sad little sun worshippers who can never get what they want. The Sun-Stroked hide in their shadowy lairs, wear their fancy robes, talk to their beetles and whisper to themselves in harsh, guttural curses. Especially among the Invictus, they are considered useless.

Derogatory nicknames notwithstanding, the Bak-Ra are absolutely certain that they were once able to walk in sunlight without fear of the curse burning them to ash. They are convinced that all they need to do is rediscover the secrets that time has stolen from them. Those secrets are surely hidden somewhere inside their minds or beneath the desert sands and it is only a matter of time until they are found.

From a practical standpoint, it is impossible to argue with a Bak-Ra regarding her beliefs. The total conviction each member of this bloodline possesses seems to be hard-wired into their blood and that kind of religious zeal is difficult to refute.

They say that history will prove that their claims are not just lies and madness. When they discover the truth, and they will discover the truth, the Servants of Ra will remember those who helped them. And they will especially remember those who stood in their way.

The Bak-Ra and the Agonistes
The Agonistes are a bloodline devoted to uncovering the truths of Kindred history and spreading that truth to every covenant and individual vampire they can. Unfortunately, the Bak-Ra have no memory of their past. This severely limits their uses to the Agonistes.

The Bak-Ra have been reduced to begging the Agonistes for the use of their libraries in order to gather more information about themselves. They promise to share with them everything that they discover. However, there is no guarantee that the Bak-Ra will ever learn anything about their past, although the Servants will never admit that as a possibility. Thus, they spend much of their time questioning the Agonistes, whose information of Kindred history prior to the fall of Rome is incomplete at best. The Bak-Ra hope that the Agonistes will provide something that may spark a fog-enshrouded memory to surface, or show the path to discovering where those bits of history might be.

Concepts: Psychology student, eccentric collector, self-help guru, political advisor, ancient history professor, Kindred sociologist, astronomer, Agoniste stalker, occult preacher, Harpy

One of the smallest and most unusual bloodlines in Kindred history, the Barjot have their origin in late 1860s France, spawned by the fateful meeting of an impressionable unaligned Gangrel named Amaury Jelinek and the early proponents of the mortal Bohemian movement. Immediately attracted to the freedom and defiant wonder of the disenchanted Parisian art community, Jelinek quickly made the acquaintance of several progressive thinkers, spending nearly all of his time in their company. Although he lacked the education and intellectual rigor to hold his own in debate with these mortals, he was endlessly fascinated by their meandering conversations on philosophy, politics and the undeniable truths of human emotion. One night, overwhelmed by the excitement one night’s discussion sparked in him, Jelinek struck both of his heroes down and immediately Embraced them in defiance of local law.

Jelinek and his new childer were brought before the Prince of the domain, forced to stand in judgment for his impetuousness. Unwilling to issue a personal order for the destruction of Jelinek (whom he considered little better than a rogue) and noticing that the three Kindred bore a strange, nearly painful aversion to separation, the Prince declared all three exiled, announcing that they could live together in eternal codependence, so long as they didn’t do it within the boundaries of his territory. “Jobard,” he called them. “Insane.”

Dejected and banished, the three began a stint of relatively aimless wandering, moving from place to place with little more in mind than the application of their hopeful musings. They would own nothing, they decided, and they would never put down roots that could not be pulled up at any moment. They had been given the opportunity to exist as they always imagined: free of obligation, free of material concern and the bounds of polite society. As they wandered, they slowly picked up more members, an impassioned Embrace here, a carefully considered selection there. At their peak, the brood numbered more than 20 Kindred. At first identifying themselves as Jobard, they soon adopted a verlan slang version of the name: Barjot. The insult eventually became an inside joke, co-opted by the bloodline and reversed into a proud name. What began as a sad exile turned, within years, into a strangely empowered roving party of outlaw vampires.

As decades passed, the close ties of the brood mystically tightened and solidified, supernaturally forcing the members of the Barjot to remain in one another’s company. Individual members who separated themselves from their brothers and sisters became insurmountably anxious, eventually struggling to return to the fold. Some of the original members began to sour on the group, claiming that the proximity of their fellow members soon became a trap more insidious and more frustrating than any of the rules of society. One of Jelinek’s original two childer actually committed suicide in the early years of the 20th century, forever traumatizing the rest of the line.

When the line passed through Amsterdam on a journey across northern Europe, they found immediate welcome and purpose in the Carthian Movement there. Realizing that they were nothing less than an experimental society of their own, Jelinek declared himself and his line to be ardent Carthians, formulizing and carrying out an ongoing experiment in antimaterialist communal existence. Received as a charismatic ally, he was made most welcome in the domain and allowed to move freely through the territory. But before long, the reckless tendencies of the Barjot began to annoy their hosts and damage the reputation of the line. Avoiding a potential clash, Jelinek gathered his brood and left the domain.

For decades, they traveled. Brussels, Geneva, Budapest, Prague, Rome — all played host to the Barjot at one time or another, and all rapidly ushered them out soon after. It never helped that the brood spread the word of their own revolutionary brand of Carthianism wherever they went, embellishing the tales in an attempt to convince younger, more impressionable Kindred to join up and throw off the traditions of their elders. Many times, the Barjot were forced to flee a domain before facing charges of corrupting neonates and fomenting rebellion — a thoroughly legitimate claim.

The Barjot were caught in Copenhagen during the Nazi occupation of World War II, and a disastrous at tempt to cross the border led to the destruction of three members of the line at once. Never having suffered such a degree of bloodshed before, they were devastated. Jelinek’s remaining childe went into voluntary torpor, declaring his intent to sleep “one century for each sad loss.” The rest of the line chose tocarry his inert body with them in their travels, and have done so ever since.

As soon as they were able, the entire line picked up and left for the Americas, eager to leave the painful memories of Europe behind. First landing at New York harbor, they were quickly turned out by the Kindred of the city and set to wandering again.

In the decades that followed, the Barjot have been up and down the Americas, traveling as far south as Rio de Janeiro and as far north as Anchorage, Alaska. Every so often, they are made welcome in a domain and they stay for as long as they can. Rarely tolerated for long, they eventually move on, looking for a city that can accept their strange ways.

Parent Clan: Gangrel. The founder, Amaury Jelinek, is a vampire of approximately 250 years of age. He still wanders the night with his strange, close-knit line, and is rumored to have spent no more than 10 or 11 years in torpor throughout his existence, a surprising circumstance for a vampire of his age. Jelinek attributes his staying power to the close ties he shares with his blood relations.

Nickname: Jelinenes. The Barjot dislike this term because it suggests a worship of Jelinek that they all deny. While it’s true that they tend to dote on him, no one of them is central to the bloodline, they say, and no one of them deserves to be exalted above the rest. On any given night, they are likely to indulge and idolize one of their neonates just as much as their founder.

Covenant: The Barjot identify themselves as Carthians, without exception. The Barjot are a small state unto themselves, and they believe that they should be allowed to determine the parameters of their own government, complete with its laws and customs. Because of their extremely insular behavior and their tendency to wander away, en masse, from any situation that upsets them, the members of the bloodline are sometimes referred to as “Carthian by default.” That is to say, they are too organized to be spoken of as unaligned, but they are too unusual and unmannerly to be considered members of any covenant except the Carthian Movement.

The Barjot have flirted with membership in both the Lancea Sanctum and the Circle of the Crone in the past, participating happily in religious or mystic rituals and readings. The Barjot never stay for long, though, and they rarely bother to learn much from the teachings of either group. It’s not that the Barjot are incompatible with them, but rather that the Barjot just don’t care enough to take the trouble.

The free-spirited Barjot are simply not compatible with the staid etiquette of the Invictus or the guarded secrecy and long study of the Ordo Dracul. Any members of the bloodline who have made any attempt whatsoever to join those covenants in the past have done so half-heartedly, and have been rejected on every occasion. Even those single members who might be considered for membership are unable to spend enough time away from their compatriots to learn the lessons of these covenants.

Appearance: Considering that wild experimentation and creative expression are the norm for Jelinene Kindred, the mainstream boundaries of gender, modesty and good taste are of no concern. Loose, flowing garments seem fashionable, as are colorful, comfortable fabrics and revealing cuts.

Most of the Barjot refuse to style their hair, often allowing dreadlocks to form (if they have enough length) or taking a laissez-faire attitude to their coifs. Many are not quite as anxious about hygiene as one might hope, and are dusted with a layer of soot and grime that grows thicker as the years pass.

If the bloodline has a single rule about one’s appearance, it is this: nothing should be bought. If a vampire of the bloodline is seen to wear matching suits or manufactured dresses, she’s likely to face the jeers of her brethren as a “sell out” or a “bourgeois wannabe.” Instead, the Barjot either hand-sew their garments from scratch or patch them together from a collection of found fabrics and otherwise cannibalized clothing.

The Barjot often accessorize with items that are beautiful, but assertively worthless. Cheap plastic baubles, telephone wire necklaces, iridescent Saran-Wrap bracelets — anything that’s both eye-catching and easy to find works as Barjot adornment. They may look like crazy people, but they tend to claim that it’s a statement on the arbitrary nature of value assignment, and will gleefully defend their choices. The useless is elevated to magnificence in their eyes, and commonly accepted precious items are no better than trash.

Haven: The Jelinenes will dwell anywhere that’s free, light-tight and large enough to house all of them. Squats in ruined hotels, waterfront warehouses and abandoned factories are favorites for the bloodline, providing the shelter they require without walling the members off from one another. Not all of them know how to invoke the haven of Soil, and those who do don’t like to isolate themselves from their brothers and sisters. Wherever they make a home, the Barjot inevitably “decorate”: painting the walls with unusual imagery, scrawling poetry and messages on every available surface and scattering toys, swatches of fabric and anything else they choose to entertain themselves with all around. Their havens are often jokingly referred to as “nests” because of this behavior, but many a visiting vampire has been struck by the awful resemblance to an animal’s den.

On rare occasion, the Barjot are invited to share the haven of an outsider. Without fail, they leave it as ruined as their own homes, testing the limits of their host’s patience with their combined ignorance of common courtesy and absolute disregard for another’s privacy. To those who know the Barjot, hosting the bloodline is considered a great (or insanely foolish) act of tolerance and charity. A few French Kindred regularly welcome them into their homes, viewing the inevitable destruction of their property as a kind of penance. Most Kindred, however, are nowhere near as broadminded in their approach.

Background: Those mortals who can both draw the attention of the Barjot and then survive the first few years as Kindred without going completely insane are a singular type: charismatic outsiders and frustrated eccentrics, assured of their own intellectual worth and vaguely (or completely) dissatisfied with mainstream life. They are artists and talkers, rebels and freaks, attracted to the unusual existence of the vampires and willing participants in their commune.

Social and Physical Attributes are considered more favorable for Barjot candidates than Mental ones, and such “friendly skills” as Expression, Socialize, Drive and Athletics are much more appealing to the line than such “unfriendly” ones as Brawl, Weaponry or Subterfuge.

Character Creation: Almost all of the Jelinenes are peaceful intellectuals, many of whom have given themselves over to a free-spirited, hedonistic Requiem. As a result, Mental Attributes are commonly primary (despite the Gangrel weakness), but Social Skills are usually prominent. Material Merits are discouraged, as every member of the bloodline must be prepared to abandon all possessions — either in sharing with one another, or in ridding oneself of material ties to a particular domain. A good number of the bloodline bear the Striking Looks merit, even if it may be hidden under a layer of grime.

Organization: The Barjot move in familial troupes, splitting only rarely into smaller sub-groups. Each member relates (and refers) to the others as brothers and sisters, even when dealing with her sire or childer. There are no distinctions of age or class within the Barjot, and there is no intrinsic value to inheritance. Many Barjot are actually Jelinek’s childer or grandchilder, with a few exceptions, and all share the close ties of Blood Sympathy.

Amorous affairs are both common and mercurial among the Barjot. Partnerships are formed, traded and dissolved with remarkable frequency, more as a pleasure game than any serious expression of emotion. Reprehensible as it is to more traditional Kindred, the ready exchange of physical love among the members of the bloodline is arguably one of the factors that help maintain each member’s Humanity. Those who seem to be slipping are often subjected to increased attention from their brood-mates, benefiting from their gentle touch and intimate understanding.

The Barjot engage in their own version of the Carthian Chain at least once a week, if not more often, exchanging gifts and items of clothing (often wearing them to the ceremony and removing them just before handing them over) back and forth, occasionally receiving presents that they themselves had given away years previous. The gifts exchanged are appreciated, but there isn’t much relevance attached to the relative value. Outsiders often question the Barjot’s practice of the Chain, considering that they define all of their possessions as the shared property of the line. Members of the bloodline invariably respond that the practice of the Chain is about the act of giving and receiving, not about the ownership of the gifts themselves. It is a practice that encourages friendly contact and a union of intent and interest. Outsiders are frequently and happily invited to practice the Chain with the Barjot, demonstrating that the line is willing to surrender items in exchange for the gifts of foreigners as well.

Spending as much time in one another’s company as they do, the Kindred of the Barjot often engage in cooperative feeding practice. The joint hunt is surely a joy for the brothers and sisters of the line, but must be horrifying for their targets. The entire line often descends on a small group of mortals, picking a small neighborhood clean in their passing. A definite threat to the Masquerade, the Barjot group hunt often defies the logic and necessity of stealth in Kindred affairs, and the permanent residents of several domains have been forced to clean up the bloodline’s mess on more than one occasion.

In a ritual exercise that is extremely unusual for vampires, the Barjot all recall and celebrate their mortal birthdays, throwing wild parties and taking the whole line into the streets for a roving bash. As the night of revelry draws to a close, the honoree is often drawn into the telling of tales, recalling the highlights of his mortal days. Once again, this practice seems bizarre or unnecessary to many Kindred, but it has a definite positive effect on the Humanity of the bloodline’s members.

Another common ritual for the Barjot is the “crash,” a planned outing to a public event (or Elysium gathering). In preparation, the members of the bloodline dress up in “disguise,” snagging cheap or free suits and dresses and doing their best to emulate the “normal” crowd. At some predetermined point, they suddenly shred or strip off their outfits, reveling in the relative freedom of their usual garb. This moment of shedding is considered by many a reinforcing of the values of the Barjot, allowing them to exult in a moment of liberation after the hours-long tension of trying to fit in with the crowd around them. It certainly seems enjoyable to those on the outside: the release is accompanied by laughter and song, often drawing the curious attention of the crowd.

Concepts: Atavistic philosopher-poet, easygoing hitchhiker, enlightened communist punk, free-spirited wild child, gentle warrior-gone-soft, manic codependent brat, sleepy-eyed jokester, soothing big sister, talentless avant-garde scribbler, trapped-in-hell introvert

Kindred folklore is replete with tales of unusual bloodlines and the loathsome powers that are theirs to command, but few lineages are surrounded by as much exaggeration, misinformation, skepticism and trepidation as the Bohagande (or simply the “Jonahs”). According to stories, these Kindred are jinxes. Wherever they go, bad luck is sure to follow as certain as the sun will rise. Each telling relates different tragedies, from havens catching fire and their occupants burning to ash, to an ancilla’s entire financial portfolio crashing overnight, to the trespass of a Lupine in the halls of Elysium.

Many dismiss these stories as the product of overactive imaginations. These “Jonahs” are dismissed nothing more than shadowy bogeymen meant to worry neonates. Others wonder if there might not be such a brood after all, especially when they’re confronted by an extraordinary confluence of tragedies.

A rare few claim to have actually met one of these mythical Kindred. Although they cannot agree on specifics such as parent clan or where the bloodline originated, witnesses agree that the Bohagande are cursed, and that anyone who crosses their path is at great risk. They also claim there is more to the Jonahs than stories suggest, something even more inimical than the line’s telltale curse, further compounding the mystery that surrounds the lineage.

The Bohagande themselves tell progeny that they are the descendants of a Gangrel wanderer whose fateful encounter with a medicine man in the American West led to their creation. According to the most common account, the medicine man was cursed for a terrible crime against his people. Wherever he went, an ill wind blew and those around him suffered. Forced into exile, he sought revenge upon those who had cursed him, and he called upon the ancient spirits of the land to help him. One came to his aid, teaching him how to turn his curse to an advantage by taking the luck lost by others. When the medicine man met the Gangrel, the mortal mistook the vampire for the spirit that had once helped him. Seeking to impress his former mentor, the native demonstrated all he had learned and offered his blood as payment for his debt, thereby passing on his curse and his magic.

Due to their notoriety, the Bohagande rarely announce their presence, preferring to pass themselves off as ordinary Gangrel. It’s not usually long after arriving in some new domain, however, before use of their special Discipline draws unwelcome attention, forcing them to choose between denying their birthright or fleeing. Those who waffle are usually forced to accept the latter if only to avoid a blood hunt.

Aside from their habit of moving from place to place and their shared origin, little else defines members of this bloodline. Jonahs may come from anywhere and have nearly any personality, although some become thrill-seekers as a side effect of their Discipline. With time and fortune on Jonahs’ side, even the most improbable feats are within their reach and few things give a Bohagande as much of a rush as succeeding at the seemingly impossible. And yet, such accomplishments made public make line members’ intolerable to other Kindred. Few Prisci want to entertain a vampire who is prone to dangerous risks that might bring the Masquerade crashing down.

Covenant: Given their tendency toward anonymity and the response they can expect from many Kindred, Bohagande tend to avoid involvement with covenants. When they are drawn to the supportive and philosophical benefits that a society offers, it’s usually to those that recognize the value of these dangerous undead. The Circle of the Crone may boast the most Jonahs, but even then that number might be counted on one hand. Some Acolyte stories are reminiscent of bloodline origins, and curious Jonahs may explore a connection between their own Discipline and Crúac.

The Ordo Dracul can be alluring to Bohagande who hope to shed their line’s reputation through self-denial, or to transcend their curse. The Carthians may harbor a couple of these pariahs, but rare is the Jonah who’s so driven by politics to risk all by joining these blatant free-thinkers. Even so, a Bohagande in Carthian ranks could be a powerful weapon if directed properly, giving the covenant an edge over its competitors.

If the Invictus or Lancea Sanctum harbor a Bohagande, it’s unlikely that they’re aware of it. A Jonah’s membership depends on how well she can keep her true nature hidden. Neither of these groups would welcome a jinx in its midst. The First Estate would see it as a threat to stability, and the Sanctified would view her as an abomination, cursed by God and perhaps even an agent of the Devil himself.

By and large, the Bohagande prefer to remain unaligned, the better to maintain their cover and to pick-up and leave easily should the need arise. It almost always does.

Appearance: A typical Jonah appears no different from any other Gangrel who’s Embraced in the United States. Despite some connection to Native Americans in line origins, there is little evidence to suggest that the Bohagande especially prize those people as childer. In fact, the opposite may actually be the case, given the role the Shoshone played in first casting the hex that the line still bears. Still, a few Bohagande have adopted the practice of tattooing themselves — even beyond the grave — with Native American iconography as a way to at least forge some identify with their semi-mythical past, with the image of a crow figuring prominently in the decoration.

Haven: Knowing that in most cities their stay may be brief, Jonahs tend to seek out the most practical and least complicated havens possible. Abandoned homes and structures are typical choices, although due to their extraordinary luck, some members may be flush with cash and decide to live it up for a time in a penthouse apartment. No matter where they choose to stay, these undead invariably go to great lengths to ensure that they always have at least one means of escape in case the local Sheriff or Hound comes calling. Some choose a location that might pose serious risk to interlopers, like a dilapidated high-rise or a place undergoing construction. The kind of place where an unlucky trespasser may find himself in a very uncomfortable position. In suburban or rural environments, the vampires take what they can get, those who are able to simply slipping into the earth to avoid the sun’s rays.

Background: The majority of Bohagande are individuals who value privacy, who cherish their freedom and who are drawn to risk. People who have nothing to lose and who have no problem packing up and moving on at a moment’s notice are typically chosen. Daredevil types are not uncommon, and those who find a thrill in putting it all on the line are similarly favored. Drifters, gamblers, killers, grifters, extreme athletes and fugitives make up the bulk of the bloodline, but it’s not unheard of for a Jonah to choose, say, a simple roadhouse waitress who’s down on her luck.

Character Creation: Mental traits are perhaps admired most in prospective line members. While Social traits are definitely helpful in getting into and out of trouble, plying them makes for mundane means of interaction and survival. Anyone can have a silver tongue, so where’s the challenge? Mental Attributes and Skills are respected more for the opportunities and angles that can be perceived; plots and schemes to pull from which the lineage’s trademark can be used to escape. Physical traits are a close rival to Mental, simply for the backup they provide in getting out of a scrape.

Merits that lend themselves to solitary survival are also prized. Those include Direction Sense, Danger Sense, Unseen Sense and Fleet of Foot. Social Merits don’t usually qualify among such traits.

If a Gangrel Embraced to the line seeks to explore the potential of his blood early on, an extra dot of Blood Potency initiates him.

Organization: It’s rare for more than one Bohagande to be found in a single domain. There are hardly enough line members as a whole to constitute anything that could resemble a formal gathering. Their proclivities and concerns preclude all but the most informal and temporary organization, with the sire-childe bond the only one that’s commonly observed.

One Jonah in a given city can cause enough trouble. The presence of two or more could result in catastrophes that even the luckiest Bohagande might be unable to escape. The bloodline holds that whenever members encounter one another, the eldest may claim the right of residency. The younger must leave immediately, unless she wishes to challenge the elder. If that happens, the eldest chooses a single test of luck in which each competes. The winner may stay and the loser is bound to depart. Those who go unbeaten long enough are accorded special status among the bloodline. The Bohagande who has gone the longest without being bested is given the title Storm Crow. There’s some disagreement as to the identity of this figure at any given time, and some claim the position is more rumor than reality.

The founder of the line is also recognized as particularly deserving of respect. Lucas Harwood does not wield any authority over his brood, but his voice carries special weight. Because few claim to know where he is or even if he still exists (and fewer still can honestly say they have actually met him), respect is usually shown through reverence to the words ascribed to him. A body of stories about Harwood’s travels, his personal experiences and his advice to his progeny exists and is passed from Bohagande to Bohagande, albeit in no fixed form. More fable than dogma, these tales are important to the bloodline and are perhaps its strongest connection to its origin.

Jonahs are found most frequently in North America and generally outside large cities, where they avoid persecution. The line’s numbers are few, since there’s no significant advantage to siring given the conflicts that arise with one’s own childe. Members found elsewhere are true rarities, but they have a distinct advantage. Few Kindred outside North America have heard stories of the Bohagande and the curse that follows them. Jonahs who travel to a distant land may find it easier to hide their true nature and may even fit into vampiric society by adopting less nomadic and paranoid ways. Yet there is still the challenge of avoiding the wrath of undead who suffer chronic bad luck.

Concepts: Drifter, card sharp, small-time grifter, traveling carnival act (The Luckiest Lady in the World!), thrill-seeking biker, wandering preacher, carefree rock guitarist, eerie fortune teller, professional art thief, stock market “day” trader, street vigilante, freelance photographer

History
Few Bohagande are terribly concerned about their origins. Even though they tell similar (or different stories), rare is the Jonah who actually considers them anything more than entertaining folktales. One story is as good as any, providing just enough history to answer the most nagging of questions. Even those who claim to be familiar with the bloodline’s founder exhibit skepticism about the details of their origin, admitting that he may be guilty of more than a little fabrication. The Bohagande are who they are. Given their more pressing concerns, such as avoiding blood hunts, the specifics of their creation pale by comparison. Still, a similar story is passed on to new members if for no other reason than to provide some sense of shared identity.

In 1848, somewhere on the edge of the hellish expanse known today as Death Valley, a Gangrel named Lucas Harwood met a man who changed the Savage forever. Harwood had spent the bulk of his unlife prowling the burgeoning cities of the East, preying on the increasingly urbanized masses, or on their cousins in the small towns that had arisen between the Atlantic and the Mississippi. And yet, Harwood was most tempted by those he perceived as his mortal counterparts: Native Americans. Their primitive ways, ancient roots, fearsome medicine and savagery in battle struck a chord and drew him to their rich blood. The Shawnee, Chickahominy, Rappahanocks, Lenape, Cherokee, Saponi, Chicora and other tribes became his favored vessels, but their numbers dwindled and many tribes were only a shadow of what they had once been. Harwood longed to drink from a well undiluted by the taint of European civility, and so in the early 1830s he turned his back on his former hunting grounds and set off for the unsettled West to quench his desire.

He traveled with a single retainer, a rugged scout of French extraction who claimed to have heard from Meriwether Lewis’ own lips of lands and people that stretched to the distant shore. Trusting his guide to keep him from harm, Harwood joined the flood of wide-eyed settlers, prospectors, charlatans, prostitutes, soldiers, entrepreneurs and fugitives seeking fortune, adventure and sanctuary in the nation’s western reaches. The journey showed the vampire things he could not have dreamed, and dangers that nearly sounded the last note of his Requiem. Harwood was enslaved by the experience. He roved across the land, led by the Beast that he had caged for so long.

For a decade, Harwood stalked natives for the challenge they posed. The fearsome kine were not easily caught off guard, and because they suffered under no Masquerade, they did not hesitate to accept the existence of the creature that harried them. Skilled hunters, some braves tracked the Gangrel by day and discovered his haven, brutally murdering his retainer. Only the Disciplines of his parent clan saved him from a similar fate. The myriad dangers that Harwood then faced did not deter him, however. He thrilled to solitary existence and honed his predatory abilities to new heights. Eventually he even learned to take the form of a coyote and crow, the better to go where he pleased. It was in bird form that he came upon a lone mortal one night, high upon a rock overlooking Shoshone land. The individual was a gifted medicine man — a bohagande in his own language. Once named Seeing Star for his knowledge of the heavens, the man was now an outcast. He had slain an innocent child in order to work a great rite, which had been forbidden by his elders. Seeing Star was brought before a tribal gathering, judged guilty and sentenced to exile from his people.

To ensure that the medicine man would never again haunt them, the three wisest of the tribe laid a curse upon him so that bad luck would come to any who took him in, a curse that turned his hair white. Finally, the name Seeing Star was stripped from him, robbing the man of his identity and thereby denying him the power he once commanded. From that point forward, he was no longer Shoshone and was forced into the wastelands to meet whatever fate the Great Spirit held for him.

Word of the curse and its nameless bearer spread across Sogobia, the tribal homeland. Everywhere he went, disaster was at his side. Left to places deemed desolate, he struggled to survive and railed against the heavens themselves, swearing revenge. When the man was at wits end and with nowhere else to turn, Crow agreed to aid him. Laughing, the spirit told his petitioner that he did not possess the power to remove so great a curse. Angered, the medicine man tried to grab the bird, but Crow had luck on his side and escaped. The spirit told the wretched Shoshone that he was not laughing at the man’s misfortune, but because the outcast was too blind to see the powerful gift he had been given.

“There is no such thing as bad luck,” Crow said. “What some call bad luck is only luck’s absence. Wherever you go, men around you are the cursed ones, not you. Your gift steals the luck they all carry with them, leaving them empty. If you knew how, you could take their luck and have it for yourself. Instead, you let it fall through your fingers like sand. That is why I laugh at you. You shake the fruit from the tree, but you leave it on the ground to rot.”

The medicine man realized the truth in Crow’s words. The suffering of others could be his strength. He threw himself before the wise spirit and begged Crow to show him how to master his curse, offering everything he had as payment. Crow accepted, saying that the price would be to one day teach the spirit something that the man had learned. The deal struck, Crow showed his pupil a new path. He also gave the man a new name — White Star, inspired by his hair — to restore the power he had lost.

Then Crow took flight, leaving the medicine man no longer eager for death’s comforting welcome. White Star quickly mastered what he had learned and went among men again, exacting his revenge. Each of those who had cursed him died in a terrible accident. The elders that had condemned him met their end, and any other who crossed his path found catastrophe to be her new companion.

When Harwood alighted on a bluff near White Star, still in the form of a crow, he first thought the man was quite old because of his hair. Perhaps this mortal had come out here, far from his people, to seek a vision, a desire with which Harwood was familiar. Although wary of some hidden danger, Harwood approached, his unquenchable hunger overriding caution. Before he could shift form and pounce, the man turned and proved himself to be younger and more capable than Harwood guessed. The native was grim and exuded a power that belied his calm demeanor. Fearful that the man might be a Lupine or worse, Harwood maintained his feathered seeming and prepared to escape. He had spent enough time around the tribes to understand native tongues, and was surprised when the man spoke to him as if he was an old friend.

“Many seasons have passed since we last spoke, Crow,” the man said. “Your medicine is strong and with it I have had my revenge. I know why you have come back now. It is time for me to repay you as I agreed. Tell me what you wish to learn and I shall teach it.”

Startled by the mortal’s manner, Harwood didn’t know what to do. He was intrigued by the prospect of a gift, but the Beast had other plans. The vampire shed his winged guise before the man’s eyes and leapt for his throat. To the Gangrel’s chagrin, his foot caught on a stone and his wicked claws barely grazed his intended victim, drawing only a trickle of blood that the attacker licked clean. Now White Star was ready, and when the Savage lunged again, his blow went wild. His Beast enraged, Harwood snarled his determination and made what would surely be a killing blow. But the medicine man was favored by fate once again and the assailant was almost sent over a precipice. Misfortune plagued the vampire’s every move. What should have been the simplest thing was a harsh lesson in futility. When the first rays of sunlight shone across the flat land, Harwood, so focused on his intended prey, was taken by surprise. Howling his frustration, he sank into the cold earth, still desperate for nourishment.

When the Gangrel crept from the ground the next sunset, he was amazed to find the white-haired man still there, clearly awaiting his return. Unwilling to repeat the same mistakes of the night before, Harwood pushed his hunger as far down as he could and sat across from the Shoshone, respectful of the man’s evident power. White Star still believed that Harwood was Crow, regardless of the form the spirit took, and wanted to know why Crow had tried to kill him. “I had promised to teach you as you had taught me. Our bargain was not for my life.”

Harwood was confused, but caution kept his tongue. The outcast bohagande awaited an answer, but when none came, he offered his own interpretation. “Ah, you have forgotten who you are, Crow. So it is when you wear the skin of another for too long. Because you have forgotten, I shall repay you by teaching you what you have lost.” As the stars wheeled in the heavens and Bat chased Moth across the valley, White Star showed Harwood how to use spirit medicine as Crow had once taught him. Again the sun rose and once more Harwood slept beneath the desert. When he awoke this time, however, he was alone. The curse of the bohagande and the medicine of Crow were now his.

Society and Culture
Treated like lepers and hounded by their fellow Kindred, yet possessed of a power that enable them to accomplish the seemingly impossible, the Bohagandes’ Requiem is like no other. The temptation to exercise the line’s special Discipline is difficult to resist, especially knowing that the hammer of a Prince’s law may descend without warning. Being so lucky as to survive such a surprise is as practical as it is irresistible. Jonahs therefore tend to view others, Kindred and kine alike, as vessels containing not only blood, but the luck they need to survive. Indeed, many line members are addicted to the rush of stealing another’s fortune.

Since use of Sunnikuse does not go entirely unnoticed, Bohagande are forced to be as careful as possible. Simply going around, stealing luck is a good way to call down persecution. A Bohagande thus finds a gimmick that fits her personality and special talents as a cover for her larceny. She might stick to something overt, like engaging victims in a game of chance, or she might use straightforward psychology as the best subterfuge, suggesting how a victim invites bad luck and then offering proof. Whatever method she uses, her modus operandus provides just enough justification for ill events. Such deceptions are certainly not necessary, but without one a victim is likely to lay blame outward rather than inward.

When two Bohagande cross paths, the elder has the right to command the younger to move on. If the younger wishes to challenge, the older declares a contest, with the winner claiming the right of domain. The challenge can take nearly any form, so long as its outcome depends primarily on luck. Even if the contest requires substantial physical exertion or a particular test of skill, the ultimate criterion hinges on whether or not luck can prevail.

Shortly after entering a city, a century-old Jonah may discover the presence of another of his bloodline, a neonate who has made his haven there for a dozen years. Unless the senior Bohagande simply wishes to move on, he can challenge the younger and declare the terms. There is no shame in the neonate acquiescing without a contest, but if he does accept it’s considered terribly bad form to withdraw prematurely.

The challenge might be as simple as a game of Russian Roulette or as outlandish as a 100-mph race in the wrong direction on a busy highway. Most of the time, the more dangerous the contest the more respect the winner receives. Given the risks involved, it’s not uncommon for Bohagande to meet Final Death in these contests. It’s also perfectly acceptable for participants to use Sunnikuse against each other before and during a challenge. Thus, a normally fortunate Jonah may discover herself robbed at the worst possible moment. Eventually, luck does run out, even for members of this line.

Besides Lucas Harwood, the only other Bohagande to claim any special recognition is the one known as the Storm Crow. This individual has supposedly never been defeated in a challenge and is deemed the luckiest Kindred walking the earth. Some stories claim that the current Storm Crow is a particularly feral Gangrel named Becky Finch, the moll of a successful Kansas City mobster before her Embrace. Some disagree, saying that she was finally bested by another, or that her claim was never legitimate.

The name Cameron is bandied about as the possible identity of the Storm Crow, but few can agree on any details about this little-known figure. Ultimately, the concept of Storm Crow is more tall tale than reality to most, a character suitable for yarns and emulation. That doesn’t stop some Bohagande from actively seeking out a master of luck, however. These competitive Jonahs hope to challenge and defeat him, claiming the title for themselves. Equally motivating, rumors ascribe strange powers of Sunnikuse to a Storm Crow. Would-be usurpers hope they can learn these tricks for themselves.

Every Bohagande possesses a secret that he protects over and above all else. Upon a Gangrel’s initiation, a sire or Avus bestows a Shoshone name that makes the new Bohagande known to the spirit Crow, who’s held as the true father of the line. The name is written on the newcomer’s chest in the Avus’ blood, but is never again recorded or spoken, not even between these two Kindred. Anyone who learns this name and understands it for what it is has a powerful charm over the subject, whose use of Sunnikuse against that individual is compromised.

Some Bohagande seek out the names of others of the line in order to give themselves an advantage in future confrontations, but most Avus are loath to part with such knowledge. Should a betrayal be traced back, they run the very real risk of having their own names revealed, effectively robbing from them of their own power. Other Kindred who discover a Jonah’s Shoshone name may not know the power that comes from sharing it. Few if any outside the lineage are aware of this Achilles’ heel.

Legends of the Holy Grail have existed in one form or another for more than a thousand years. Before Christian doctrine presented the tale of Christ’s sacred cup, Welsh stories spoke of vessels that restored the dead to life, and Norse tales depicted enchanted cauldrons that produced endless bounty. Stories of magical cauldrons, chalices and cups with similar life-giving properties can be found in the mythologies of the Celts, the ancient Greeks and even as far abroad as the Chinese. In medieval Europe, epic romances were written about brave, worthy knights who sought the religious enlightenment of the Grail.

Through the shadows of these tales came the Bron, an ancient bloodline of indeterminate origin. The Bron were once mighty kings, lords of the night who ruled the British Isles with an iron fist. Somewhere in the murky depths of history, obscured by time and the torpid dreams of elders, one member called down a terrible curse on his line for daring to seek the divine power of the Holy Grail for himself. Modern Bron disagree vehemently on whether this progenitor drank from the Cup of Christ or whether the true nature of the Grail lay further back in time, with Bran the Blessed and the enchanted cauldron that returned the dead to life, but the repercussions of the curse reverberate into this very night.

The Bron are a bloodline in exile, forever unable to attain the rulership that is their destiny. The curse laid on the bloodline’s founder causes the land itself to rise up against any Bron who attempts to claim domain. No matter whether the domain is in the heart of the city or the depths of the wilderness, the land will not accept a Bron as its master. For any Ventrue, being unable to rule securely within one’s own domain is a terrifying and horrific prospect, but to the Bron, who still remember the glories of their ancient kingdoms, it is quite possibly a fate worse than Final Death.

Forced to skulk on the edges of Kindred society with no domains to call their own, Bron often choose nomadic Requiems rather than bending knee to elders and suffering like servants in others’ realms.

These wandering “Fisher Kings” are a part of the bloodline’s sacred Grail Quest, undertaken in the late Middle Ages and continuing to this night. The Bron reason that the Grail cursed their founder, and so, if it is found again by a worthy Kindred, it can be used to lift the curse and allow the Bron to rule once again. That this was this same monumental hubris that brought down the curse on the line in the first place has not gone unnoticed by more cynical Bron.

With such a clear and obvious (if somewhat unrealistic) goal before them, one would think the Bron would present a focused and unified front to the rest of Kindred society. Sadly, as is often the case among vampires, the Bron are as split by ideological disputes as any other group of Kindred.

The main point of division among members of the bloodline is the very nature of the thing they seek: the Holy Grail itself. One camp, aligned with the Lancea Sanctum, states unequivocally that the bloodline’s founder was cursed for sipping from the Cup of Christ, the Holy Grail, as it has been portrayed for nearly a thousand years. Another group, tied strongly to the Circle of the Crone, insists just as adamantly that the curse laid upon their line is far older than the kine’s Messiah, and that the “Grail” was actually one of the magical cauldrons of Welsh and Celtic myth, which had the power to restore the dead to life and is believed to be an inspiration for the earliest Christianized Grail stories and a decidedly pre-classical Kindred creation myth. Still other members of the bloodline espouse more radical theories, claiming that the Grail is actually a metaphor for an enchanted stone that fell from the heavens or even the mortal bloodline of Christ.

Whatever the truth of the Bron’s curse is, it remains clouded by the Fog of Eternity and the simple lack of records from time past. With no clear direction or focus, the Bron continue to wander, modern Percivals pursuing a quest that has brought down kingdoms and consumed lives for two millennia or more. The Bron are a tragic legend of the Kindred: Princes without domain, Damned to eternal pauperism until they satisfy a quest that may have no solution.

Covenant:

The majority of Bron choose between the Circle of the Crone and the Lancea Sanctum.

Those Bron who fall in with the Sanctified espouse the Christianized doctrine of the Grail, albeit filtered through the dogma of Longinus. According to the Sanctified Bron, the Cup of Christ is both the antithesis of, and the counterpart to, the Spear of Longinus. In a sub-sect of this liturgical theory, there is a gender difference, too — the Spear is the male and the Grail is the female. While the Spear represents the Kindred’s ordained role as executors of God’s vengeance, the Grail is God’s gift to those of the Damned who serve Him most loyally. The Fisher Kings of the Lancea Sanctum believe that God grants a vision of the Holy Grail to those Kindred with whom He is well pleased as a signal of His forgiveness and mercy. To truly be worthy of achieving the Grail Quest, the Sanctified Fisher Kings must prove themselves as worthy as Sir Galahad. The difference, of course, is that while Christian knights were expected to be chaste, pious and humble if they were to prove worthy of attaining the Grail, Kindred are expected to be exemplars of God’s terrible vengeance against those who stray from the path. Sanctified Bron are often nomadic scholars, crisscrossing the globe in search of any sign of the Grail’s passage while leaving a bloody trail of gruesomely slain sinners in their wake.

The Bron who ally themselves with the Circle of the Crone take a different tack in their beliefs regarding the Holy Grail. The Grail, these Bron say, is not the Cup of Christ at all, but rather the cauldron described in ancient Celtic and Welsh mythic cycles, such as the Mabinogion. The early Christians, and the Lancea Sanctum after them, co-opted legends of the magical cauldron that could raise the dead, just as many pagan holidays and myths were Christianized to strengthen the early Church. Members of the Circle of the Crone branch of the bloodline search for the enchanted cauldrons of Cerridwen and other mythic figures, believing that, with the proper ritual, the Bron can repair the flawed magic that blights them with undeath and restore themselves to true mortality.

Other covenants claim far fewer Bron vampires. Among the Invictus, the Bron are nearly unknown, as the nature of their curse places them at a bit of a detriment among the power politics of the First Estate. The few Bron who join the Invictus tend to end up in subordinate roles such as Sheriff or Hound, dwelling in the Prince’s personal domain at her sufferance rather than claiming territory of their own. If the curse on their line ever ends, hough, it seems certain that many Bron would flock to
the Invictus’ banner to re-assert the rightful leadership the bloodline has been denied.

The Carthian Movement offers little to attract the Bron. The Carthians tend to be more interested in temporal politics than spiritual matters, and they seldom have access to unique occult lore that might aid in the Bron’s quest for the Grail. “Heretic” Bron, who espouse radical new theories about the nature of the Grail, sometimes find a home in the Movement but usually out of a shared sense of ostracism than any commonality of ideology and beliefs.

Although many Bron harbor a quiet optimism regarding the Ordo Dracul, few Fisher Kings actually enter the Order. Members of both factions claim this is because the Fisher Kings focus almost exclusively on the Grail, which can become an obstacle on their road to the Dragons’ brand of enlightenment. On the other hand, elders of the bloodline hear tales of the potent Blood masteries the Ordo Dracul possesses, and they cannot help but wonder.

Appearance:

Bron vary widely in appearance, depending on their approach to the Grail Quest. Elders of the line tend to be conservative in their dress, usually favoring dark suits with severe lines. Truly ancient members of the bloodline may still dress as the questing knights of old, at least within the privacy of their own havens. Many Bron were once members of secret societies sometimes connected with the Grail, such as the Templars or their descendants, the Free-masons; these vampires often wear the accoutrements of those orders.

Physically speaking, Bron have no common, unifying features. Due to the bloodline’s origins in the British Isles, most elders are of Celtic, Welsh or Anglo-Saxon descent, but, in modern nights, the bloodline spans all ethnicities and body types.

Haven:

Many Bron are nomads, wandering from domain to domain to follow the trail of the Holy Grail and keep the effects of their curse at bay. Such nomads find temporary havens wherever they can, or travel in modified vehicles that serve as traveling havens. More sedentary Bron lair wherever they can find a place to sleep the day away, often on the fringes of the city or in a domain unclaimed by local Kindred. The rare, lucky Bron who have a local patron tend to make their havens in libraries and museums, places where tidbits of Grail lore might fall into their hands.

Background:

In modern nights, most Bron choose their childer from the ranks of scholars and academics. Ideally, a Bron chooses a childe who specializes in the lore of the Grail (whether Christian or pagan, as the case may be), but such scholars have become progressively more rare in recent years. Many Bron Embrace scholars who focus generally on early Christian theology, Celtic history and myth or medieval European history, and continue the Grail-specific instruction during the first few years of the fledgling’s Requiem. Some elder Bron, especially among the Sanctified, prefer to Embrace soldiers, police officers or political activists, believing them to be the knights of the modern world. These traditionalists carefully study their prospective childer to ensure that they hold to the appropriate virtues.

Acolyte Fisher Kings, on the other hand, often Embrace those whose interest in the Grail is more mystical than historical. Occultists, New Age gurus and, in particular, educated devout pagans form the bulk of the bloodline’s representation in the Circle of the Crone. As the Celts believed in the perfection of the warrior ideal, from time to time Bron Acolytes also Embrace mortals with exceptional physical prowess. Unlike Sanctified Fisher Kings, pagan Bron focus more on raw, physical potential than knightly virtues. Boxers, outdoorsmen and survivalists are among the “warriors” sometimes Embraced by Fisher King Acolytes. Because the pagan myths of magical cauldrons are closely tied to the British Isles, most Bron Acolytes hail from that region, and many still dwell there.

Character Creation:

Young Bron very often favor Mental Attributes and Skills. The Grail Quest in modern nights has become one of research and study, not riding across the countryside with sword and lance. Older Bron still show a preference for Physical Attributes and Skills, but even newly Embraced Fisher Kings usually prize their Physical abilities. Social Attributes and Skills are usually of the least importance — artifacts and manuscripts don’t care how well-mannered you are, and there’s seldom anyone to talk to in the ancient ruins Bron sometimes explore in their search.

Beyond the basics of Attribute prioritization, Bron frequently diverge based on their covenant and preferred method of pursuing their quest. Sanctified Bron usually have Merits like Languages: Latin, Status: Lancea Sanctum and Contacts in the academic world. Fisher Kings in the Circle of the Crone, on the other hand, might speak multiple ancient languages, especially various forms of Gaelic, Welsh and Old English, with Allies and Contacts across the occult world.

Scholarly Bron usually devote effort to Skills like Academics, Computer and Investigation, with a smattering of Politics and Persuasion to help them gain access to the research materials they need. Merits like Fame or Status in the academic world help them gain after-hours access to the most exclusive research libraries in the world, but these Merits come with perils of their own in the form of recognition outside those circles. Haven, Herd and Resources ensure that the Bron’s Requiem is disturbed as little as possible by the vagaries of night-to-night unlife. Fisher Kings who actively pursue the Grail likely have dots in Academics, but complement it with Survival, Firearms, Larceny and Intimidation to better survive their wanderings. Merits such as Resources, Herd and Retainer are especially important to questing Bron, and many seek out Gangrel Mentors from whom to learn Protean.

Organization:

The deep schism that divides the Bron precludes them from having much internal organization. Neither the Circle of the Crone nor the Lancea Sanctum boasts a large enough Bron population to support any kind of bloodline infrastructure. Given the nomadic Requiems of most Fisher Kings, even finding all of them would be an impossible task, let alone organizing them. Across most of the globe, the closest thing the Bron have to an organization is the custom that those members of the bloodline actively engaged in the Grail Quest are given deference and aid by those who are not pursuing the Grail. In the past, this tradition cut across covenant lines, but the rift between the Circle of the Crone and the Lancea Sanctum has widened considerably over the past few centuries. Some Fisher Kings might still honor this tradition for a member of “the other side,” but a Bron Acolyte who asks a Sanctified for shelter while pursuing a rumor about Cerridwen’s magic cauldron takes her safety into her own hands, and vice versa.

Concepts: Enlightened occultist, grail historian, independent archaeologist, itinerant monk, Masonic conspiracy theorist, modern Celt, neo-pagan coven leader, nomadic Marchog, radical feminist, self-styled Galahad, skulker on the fringe of society

History

Like much of Kindred lore, the history of the Bron varies greatly depending upon the teller. While each individual Fisher King imparts his own take on the bloodline’s foundation, the greatest disparity is the schism between Sanctified and Bron Acolytes. Throughout the centuries, the ideological clash between these two factions has ranged from scholarly, if impassioned, debate to outright physical conflict. Modern times see the confl ict vary from domain to domain, ranging to either extreme. Nomadic Bron tend to be extremely cautious when meeting fellow bloodline members in new territories, at least until they understand the state of the local “scholarly debate.”

The Christian Grail

After the Crucifixion and the cursing of Longinus, many of Christ’s mortal followers fled Judea in fear for their lives. The kine scattered across Europe, many bearing sacred relics of their Messiah’s last days on earth. The greatest of these relics, the Holy Grail itself, was brought to England by Joseph of Arimithea and his brother-in-law, Bron. Along with their families, these two men became the guardians of the Grail, holding it in trust for the day a worthy would come to receive the blessing of enlightenment and healing the Grail offered. Joseph was dubbed the Grail King, since he had borne the Grail on the journey from Judea to Britannia, while Bron was named the Fisher King for the fish that was the symbol of God’s bounty and of the early Church.

Kindred scholars struggle to find an accurate date for Bron’s Embrace, but even the kine’s documents from that era are sketchy at best. Few Kindred writings from the early decades of the Common Era survived the fall of the Camarilla, and those writings that did are seldom concerned with the genealogies of obscure bloodlines. The best estimate Sanctified theologians can make is that the Fisher King took in a nocturnal pilgrim one dark night somewhere between AD 50 and 75, and the reward for Bron’s hospitality was to be brought into the fold of the Damned. Naturally, scholars of the Lancea Sanctum claim this Kindred pilgrim was one of their own, but few clues exist as to the identity of the Fisher King’s sire.

To the pious keeper of the Cup of Christ, the Requiem was a blasphemy. The Fisher King refused to accept the Damnation that had been laid on him, and, against his brother-in-law’s counsel, Bron ascended the Grail Tower, lifted the sacred chalice to his lips and drank deeply of the blood of Christ. The Grail had the power to cure any ill and undo any wound, no matter how grievous, and Bron fully expected to be restored to life by the divine blood. He was sorely disappointed. The following text, discovered by Sanctified archaeologists in AD 1765 and purportedly written by Bron himself, describes the result of the Fisher King’s rash act.

As I drank deep of the Blood of the Lamb, it seemed to me as though the Grail grew not empty nor even less full. Thou couldst drink from that sweetest of cups until the End of Days and thou wouldst taketh away not a drop, for such is the bounty of our Lord. The Blood burned my throat like liquid fire, and as I drank I did perceive that the candles about the altar dimmed and the tower grew blacker than the blackest night. The earth shook with the force of the wrath of the Lord, and I knew then that I had displeased Him.

The Grail fell from my nerveless grasp, and I fell to my knees as if stricken, pleading with the Lord God Almighty to forgive my trespass. The Blood spilled forth from the Grail in an endless river of crimson, and the Beast that writhes in my soul did stir and cry out for a taste of the Blood. It was then that I heard the voice of the Lord, and it did crack the air like thunder and howl in my mind like the Red Fear.

Thou hast drunk from that which wasThou hast drunk from that which was not meant for thee. In thy arrogance, thounot meant for thee. In thy arrogance, thou hast set thyself above the lord your god, forhast set thyself above the lord your god, for to him alone is given the judgment of men’sto him alone is given the judgment of men’s souls. Know thou bron, o fisher king, thatsouls. Know thou bron, o fisher king, that thy damnation is twofold. Thou art athy damnation is twofold. Thou art a childe of longinus, damned to the hunger ofchilde of longinus, damned to the hunger of thy blood, but also hast thou tasted the bloodthy blood, but also hast thou tasted the blood of my son, which was not thine to drink.of my son, which was not thine to drink. For thy sins, thou art doubly cursed, forFor thy sins, thou art doubly cursed, for the bounty of my generosity shall be deniedthe bounty of my generosity shall be denied thee, and all those who would have thee asthee, and all those who would have thee as their lord, for ever until the end of days.their lord, for ever until the end of days.

I abased myself before the voice of the Lord, pleading with Him to forgive my trespass. The Blood of Christ flowed about me like a pool, yet I dared not rise to right the Grail. At length, the trembling of the earth lessened, and the Lord spoke again.

Thou hast sinned against me, o fisherThou hast sinned against me, o fisher king, but know that i am a merciful god.king, but know that i am a merciful god. Thy damnation is complete, but this blessingThy damnation is complete, but this blessing i shall give thee: shouldst thou or any of thyi shall give thee: shouldst thou or any of thy line prove his worth in my eyes and seeketh theline prove his worth in my eyes and seeketh the holy grail, he shall find his way to this placeholy grail, he shall find his way to this place and be tested. He who passeth the test mayand be tested. He who passeth the test may drink from the grail and be healed, he and alldrink from the grail and be healed, he and all the scions of thy accursed line. Rememberthe scions of thy accursed line. Remember this, and know that i am merciful.this, and know that i am merciful.

With those words, the presence of the Lord departed. The earth ceased its quake, the candles flared to life and the Grail Chapel fell silent as a tomb. I rose to return the Holy Grail to its place upon the altar, but as I watched, the Cup of Christ faded from my sight until it was naught but a ghostly image of itself, which soon vanished altogether. I was unworthy now even to look upon my holiest of charges. In shame, I left the chapel. I have not returned since, though nightly I pray to God to grant me the wisdom to prove my worth. I remain here in my brother’s castle, guardian now of his bones as well as the Grail. I shall remain here until Judgment Day, if I must, waiting for the Lord to give me a sign.

The Bloody Path of Bran the Blessed

Five hundred years before the birth of Christ, the legendary hero Bran the Blessed ruled a kingdom in what is now Wales. Bran was a giant of a man, “too large for ordinary houses,” according to the stories set forth in the Mabinogion. Despite his epithet, Bran was a bloody ruler, fierce and implacable in battle. His name, which meant “Raven,” was said to have been given to him because he provided a feast for the carrion-birds whenever he went into battle.

According to the Bron historians of the Circle of the Crone, the history of their bloodline begins during the fierce war between Bran’s people and the Irish king Matholwch. Bran’s sister, Branwen, was Matholwch’s wife, though he treated her as little more than a slave. When Bran learned of his sister’s treatment at her husband’s hands, the Welsh ruler flew into one of his terrible rages, gathered his army and sailed across the Irish Sea to avenge the slight on his family’s honor. Ancient tales say that Matholwch was terrified by what appeared to be a forest coming over the sea, so numerous were Bran’s warships. When the Irish king saw Bran himself wading across the sea in the lead, Matholwch wisely sued for peace before he and his kingdom were destroyed.

As part of the concessions of the peace agreement, Matholwch built a great palace large enough for Bran to dwell in and passed the rule of the Irish kingdom on to his son Gwern. The conflict might have ended there, but several of Matholwch’s lords refused to bow before the invaders and engineered a plan to murder Bran and his Welsh soldiers. The Irish lords hid themselves and many of their soldiers inside sacks of flour bound for the kitchens of Bran the Blessed’s castle. Thus able to sneak past the hundreds of Welsh soldiers who guarded the castle, the Irish soldiers waited until nightfall to cut themselves free, and would have murdered everyone in the castle, but they were discovered by Bran’s cousin, Efnisien, who heard the flour sacks whispering to each other in the dark. Guessing the treachery at hand, Efnisien threw the sacks into the fire, roasting the Irish soldiers alive. Efnisien himself took this tale to Bran, and the giant king declared the peace forfeit and marshaled his forces to attack Matholwch.

Knowing that he could never defeat the more-numerous armies of Bran the Blessed, Matholwch had made a terrible bargain with an ancient witch who dwelt on a rocky island in the Irish Sea. The hag, whom some say was one of the Good Folk and some say was something less describable, gave Matholwch two items: a spear made from a strange, dark metal, said to be able to pierce the armor of the gods themselves, and an enchanted cauldron filled with blood that boiled even when no fire burned beneath it. Any dead man stewed in that pot would be returned to life to fight on the side of the Irish. The price Matholwch paid for this cauldron
is unknown.

The subsequent battle raged for many weeks, and the Welsh were nearly wiped out. The Irish suffered no casualties, and every Welsh casualty only served to swell the Irish ranks. With his bloody cauldron and his ensorcelled spear, Matholwch seemed invincible. After almost two solid months of fighting, Bran’s spies learned of Matholwch’s cauldron and its terrible restorative powers. Bran consulted with his priests and magicians, and, after long days of fasting and prayer, they hatched a plan to destroy the cauldron.

The next dawn, Bran led his soldiers into battle personally, and met Matholwch on the field. The two kings battled savagely from sunrise to sunset until, just as the last rays of the sun vanished over the horizon, Bran’s sword clove Matholwch’s helmet and bit deep into the Irish king’s skull. At the same instant, Matholwch’s spear pierced Bran’s side, deeply wounding the giant. Matholwch fell dead, and Bran, sorely hurt but not yet dead, collapsed atop his foe, feigning death. Matholwch’s lieutenants were fooled, and, gloating that Bran the Blessed would fight for Ireland by the next dawn, they dragged him off and cast him, still living, into the cauldron.

Immediately, the Irish knew they had been tricked. The ever-boiling blood went still and cold in the space of a heartbeat, the spell of resurrection shattered by the presence of Bran’s living soul. With a thunderous crack, the cauldron split in two, and Bran emerged, bathed in blood and forever changed. The cauldron’s sorceries, rather than restoring the dead to life, had brought undeath to the living. Bran emerged from his bloody baptism a Damned creature of the night, lusting for the blood of the living. His body rejuvenated and his hurts healed (all save the wound from Matholwch’s enchanted spear), Bran fell upon the Irish soldiers within Matholwch’s castle and slew them all. The Welsh army, inspired by the sight of their king risen anew, rallied and drove the remaining Irish into the sea.

With the Irish soldiers defeated, Bran the Blessed took control of Matholwch’s kingdom, solidifying his rule over the mortals. In life, Bran had been a great king, but in his Requiem, he lacked the sacred connection to the land that made a true king. Under the rule of the vampire king, the land withered and sickened. Crops died, cattle grew sick and produced no milk and the people cried out to the gods for justice. Bran refused to see this, and even went so far as to Embrace childer and grant them domains throughout his kingdom, spreading the blight even farther.

The mortal lords who served Bran finally took the initiative to deal with their undead king. While the sun was high one midsummer’s day, they entered Bran’s sleeping chambers on the premise of bringing tribute to the king and struck off his head with an axe. According to the histories of the Bron Acolytes, after the beheading, Bran’s eyes opened, and the king spoke with “the voice of the grave.” He told his lords to burn his body but to carry his head back to Wales and bury the skull facing south, to protect his home against invaders. Then he spoke to his childer, and though they were scattered across his kingdom, each one is said to have heard the voice in their dreams that day.

Bran laid a geas on his childer, commanding them through the power of the Blood to renounce their thrones and leave their lands forever. They belonged to the dead, and the dead did not rule the living. The childer were offered one chance to redeem themselves and reclaim their thrones: find the witch who crafted Matholwch’s cauldron or learn the secret location of another cauldron made by the same hag. Only by learning the secrets of the cauldron can they find the path back to true life and reclaim their blessed kingship.

Society and Culture

For the most part, the Bron lead isolated, nomadic Requiems. They come into contact with other Kindred infrequently, and with others of their own line even less often. When a group of Bron does congregate into a coterie, it is almost always to pursue some key facet of the Grail Quest. Even Bron who do not travel tend to dwell apart from their brethren, out of necessity (often, the only territory a Bron dares to claim is the Barrens, as even their unique curse cannot make the befouled places of the city much worse) or desire (sedentary Bron are usually bookish scholars who dislike interruption).

In the British Isles, where this bloodline is strongest, the Bron have slightly more structure to the manner in which the bloodline operates. The British Fisher Kings’ organization is common to the Lancea Sanctum and the Circle of the Crone alike, a curious fact that suggests that such organization may predate the schism within the bloodline. Groups of scholarly Bron, called Ysgolorion, secret themselves within Britain’s most prestigious universities and libraries, often swallowing their pride and serving as aides or Seneschals to the local Princes, as the protection of domain is denied to the Bron. These Ysgolorion (singular Ysgolor) scour the libraries of the kine and the secret journals of elder Kindred, seeking clues as to the Grail’s nature and resting place.

The Ysgolorion pass the information they glean on to the Marchogion, or wandering knights, who engage in the active fieldwork of investigation. Although the Marchogion often speak grandly of their Grail Quests, very few of them are actually directly engaged in a search for the Grail. Too much information has been lost, and the Grail has been too well hidden to make such a search practical. Instead, most of a Marchog’s time is spent looking for artifacts and tomes, clues that might point to other clues that may eventually point to the Grail.

Depending upon their age and prestige, Marchogion pass through Britain anywhere from once a year to once a decade. Younger, inexperienced Marchogion return more frequently, as they often aren’t as capable as their elders, and the Ysgolorion don’t wish to lose years worth of accumulated discoveries because a careless young coterie overestimated its abilities. Older Marchogion undertake longer pilgrimages and more important quests. Beyond this partnership of convenience, the Bron observe no higher authority. In many instances, Marchogion and Ysgolorion are as likely to carry on protracted, decades-long feuds as they are to exchange information or advance the progress of the Grail Quest.

Because of the deep divide between the branches of this bloodline, most Fisher Kings think of themselves as members of their covenant first and members of their bloodline second. Sanctified Bron celebrate their own versions of Good Friday and Easter, venerating the role of the Grail more than the role of Christ (and, according to some, more than the role of Longinus himself, a fact that has led Inquisitors to the havens of the Bron on more than one occasion).

Bron Acolytes sometimes focus on the worship of ancient gods and goddesses connected with magical, life-giving cauldrons: Bran is one such deity, as is the Celtic goddess Cerridwen. In places where Bron Acolytes gather in numbers, or even the rare domains that have Bron Princes, a ghoulish rite may occur on the winter solstice every 10th year. A Kindred from within the domain — preferably one who has earned recognition for protecting the Masquerade or defending Kindred society from some external threat — is selected and brought before the assembled Kindred at Elysium. From dusk until just before dawn, Kindred of the domain honor the hero, praising him and granting every luxury they have to offer. Revelers supply vessels of any exotic vintage he desires, along with whatever blood-borne intoxicants the hero might wish, and even the hero’s longstanding rivals may publicly declare any feuds or grudges to be things of the past. Just before sunrise, the throng escorts the hero to the southernmost border of the domain, where the Prince drives a spear of rowan-wood into the hero’s side. The hero’s head is removed with a single stroke of a sharp blade (to need multiple strokes is considered a terrible omen), then buried facing southward before the body crumbles to ash. According to the Acolytes, so long as the head remains undisturbed, it will protect their domain from outside attack, just as Bran’s head protected Britain.

Legends

The Bron have been the subject of many tales, myths and rumors throughout their history. Some of these stories have been tales of the quest for the Grail, others have been rumors hinting at dark secrets possessed by the bloodline or the perceived truth of their origins.

The Canticle of the Sepulchre Knight

The Canticle of the Sepulchre Knight covers a period from AD 1230 until 1350, approximately. In total, this work comprises seven volumes in its original form, each recounting one of the pilgrimages of Sir Godfrey la Rochenoire, a Sanctified Bron, in search of the Grail. Of particular note is Chanson IV, which recounts what may be Sir Godfrey’s closest brush with the Grail during his century of questing. In AD 1267, Sir Godfrey and his coterie set forth from Avignon, bound for Wales. While crossing the English Channel, their ship was banked in by a thick fog that even the senses of Sir Godfrey’s Mekhet companion, Jean-Pierre du Bois, could not penetrate. Their ship languished on a windless sea the entire night, and, just when it seemed dawn would break on the horizon and doom them all, the ship ran aground on a white, sandy beach. A castle loomed out of the fog above them, and the Kindred fled to take refuge from the sun within the castle’s walls. The lord of the castle introduced himself as Alain le Gros, and he seemed to know the vampires for what they were, for he led them to a dark, windowless chamber below ground and bade them rest for the day.

At dusk, Sir Godfrey and his coterie followed their host to the castle’s chapel, where the knight experienced a most peculiar vision. An exquisitely carved crucifix of marble hung above the altar, with an equally intricate statue of Longinus piercing Christ’s side with the Holy Lance. Blood wept from the statue’s wound and fell into a great chalice of gold and jewels. The chalice was set upon a stone altar, over which the blood had flowed in strange patterns, which Sir Godfrey and his companions likened to pagan icons. Three women dressed in the habits of nuns attended the Grail: one young and comely, one of middling age and plain appearance and one elderly and repulsive.

Sir Godfrey demanded to know the meaning of what he perceived as a pagan spectacle surrounding the Holy Grail, but Alain le Gros only smiled sadly and made no reply. Again, Sir Godfrey asked his question, and yet once more and again he received no answer. Thus insulted thrice over, Sir Godfrey was overcome by his wrath, and made as if to strike le Gros in his frenzy. The Grail women, seeing violence about to be done in the holiest of chapels, tore their hair and wailed. A baleful light, pale as the moon but harsher than the sun’s forgotten rays, poured in through the stained glass windows and rendered Sir Godfrey and his coterie blind and insensate.

When the Sanctified knights returned to themselves, they found themselves lying in state in their makeshift haven aboard the vessel that had carried them from the shores of Normandy. The last rays of the setting sun had vanished over the horizon, and their sailors informed them that they would soon be landing on the English shore. Of the strange fog that had beset their ship for an entire night, the sailors professed no recollection. And yet, this was no mad dream shared by Kindred made torpid by the sun’s rays, for when Sir Godfrey arose that evening, he found his right hand severed cleanly at the wrist, as if by the sharpest blade on God’s earth. It is recorded in other historical documents of the time that this wound never healed and that Sir Godfrey bore the mark of his impiety and failure until, according to other tales, he met Final Death in Paris in AD 1384.

Secrets and Mysteries

The Bron are a secretive bloodline, and despite the legends that surround its members, few outside the line know much about them for certain. The history and organization presented in this section can be used as a source of rumors or stories told about the Bron. One or more of these truths might be the gospel truth in your chronicle. As always, Storytellers, use what you like and modify or throw out the rest.
One Truth:

The Bron are reclusive enough that few Kindred have ever met one, let alone two. In some domains, the very idea of Bron belonging to both the Lancea Sanctum and the Circle of the Crone is laughable. Depending upon who tells the tale, any rumor of Bron belonging to another covenant is either a case of mistaken identity caused by foolish pagans worshipping a saucepan or Christianized oppressors stealing the true faith of the people for their own purposes.
No Truth:

In modern nights, radical new theories about the nature of the Holy Grail have been put forward by folklorists and theologians. In an era when The Da Vinci Code has become a pop-culture icon (“It really makes you think”), it’s no wonder many Kindred, especially neonates and young ancillae, whisper that the Bron are looking in the wrong place for their Holy Grail. In fact, these Kindred say, the bloodline’s founder did stumble upon the truth sometime during the 1500s and went mad with grief when he learned he had been searching for a bundle of genealogical documents and ancient scrolls proving that Mary Magdalene was Christ’s wife and the mother of his child. In despair, the Bron told none of his childer (or, in some versions of the story, destroys the Grail documents to hide his failure) of his discovery and greeted the next sunrise.

Belial’s Bron:

According to this legend, the Bron are indeed seeking the Holy Grail — and probably other religious relics as well — not to lift their curse or restore their humanity, but to destroy them. Once, in the distant past, perhaps the Fisher Kings’ motives were pure, but during the Middle Ages the bloodline fell in with the Poor Knights of the Temple of Solomon, better known as the Knights Templar. The Templars were acknowledged as Europe’s foremost Grail scholars at the time, and it was even rumored that they knew the location of the Cup of Christ. They were wealthy and powerful, but that wealth and power corrupted the order, and they fell into idolatry and Devil-worship. The Church discovered the Templars’ blasphemies and executed almost the entire order. The Lancea Sanctum did much the same to the Bron members of the order. Despite these purges, a few mortal and Kindred Templars escaped and began a long, arduous search for the lost knowledge of the Templars, including the location of the Grail, the Spear of Destiny and other sacred relics. In some versions of this tale, the Bron are the secret founders of Belial’s Brood, while in other versions the Bron are merely the Brood’s allies.

We’ve spent the last century poisoning ourselves. A nuclear power plant melts down in the Ukraine. A chemical plant explodes in India. One of the largest cities of the world near-collapses under the weight of its polluted air. And in the first World War, we found ever more efficient ways to poison each other. Every side propelled countless shells, full of deadly gases — phosgene, chlorine, mustard gas — onto soldiers who could do nothing more than pray that their battered, sweaty masks would keep them alive.

And standing behind those in the trenches, the dead, who could not be poisoned, found ways to exploit these horrors. One dead man in particular, who bore the most mundane of names, learned how to internalize the poisons in the air, mud and water, and use them for his own ends.

The bearers of his legacy survive, a line of monsters who thrive on toxins, under whose pale skin lies the chemical pollutant that has done its part in the poisoning of a century.

History and Culture: A rolling cycle of death and boredom ruled the trenches, punctuated by the terror of gas attacks. Pvt. Owen Thomas Jones, a 19-year-old soldier from Barry, was reported as one of the 90 men who died in the chlorine attack on Hill 60 at the Second Battle of Ypres. At least that’s what he tells his childer: he says he was Embraced when he was already dead from the gas. Whether true or not — and very few vampires believe him — it’s part of his personal mythology, something Jones had a talent for.

Jones may not have enjoyed being a private soldier, but he flourished as a vampire. Within a couple of months, Jones managed to maneuver his sire into the way of a five-nine and was on his way across Western Europe, hiding among the troops by night and dwelling in the vast networks of trenches that the Entente powers developed across France and Belgium. He wasn’t alone in the vampires’ makeshift trench-society, and he soon became well-known in the mud-soaked Elysiums of the trenches. He was particularly good at taking advantage of the chaos and bloodshed of the various battles of the war. His enemies didn’t fare so well, falling prey, according to Jones, to shells, machineguns, barbed wire and sunlight. If Jones’s blood became potent particularly quickly, no one had the time to object. And if Jones’s Mekhet childer noticed that his aura had turned partly black, what were they going to do about it?

Jones thrived in other ways as well. Gas attacks didn’t bother the undead in the trenches. They didn’t need to breathe. Dead eyes couldn’t be blinded. Dead skin had no living cells to mutate and burn. Jones found the gas attacks to be an excellent cover for assaults on men who were going to die soon anyway. Jones began to develop a taste for the gas, for the blood of choking, poisoned men. He found, one night, that he had internalized the gas without even realizing he had done so. He found his taste for poisoned blood had become a need, but that he could use the poison for his own ends.

It suited most of his childer to benefit, with his help, from the same transformation of the blood. It was easy enough in the chaos for them to move on. Jones was always a loner himself, and when the war ended, he cut the members of his new bloodline loose.

Jones had Embraced men just like him: chancers and dealers, and they in turn had taken as childer people on both sides of the war. When the battles ended, they spread quickly with a speed that reflected the dizzying change that overtook the 20th century. By the beginning of the current century, they had become more numerous than any bloodline with less than a century of history has any business being.

They followed the British to Mesopotamia in the 1920s, and profited from the widespread use of chlorine on Arab and Kurd resistance fighters. Meanwhile, another branch of the bloodline gained influence on the battlefields of the Russian Civil War. They strode through the middle of gas clouds in Ethiopia and Morocco.

In the Second World War, one or two Brothers of Ypres fed well from some of the most callous evils ever perpetrated by mortals against their fellow human beings. And after the war, some even got as far as Japan, where the new kinds of poisoning visited upon the people by the bomb gave them more food than they had ever seen before.

And so it went. The notorious London smogs of the 1950s that claimed so many lives were attractive to the Brothers, as was the disaster at Bhopal and the nuclear event at Chernobyl (in fact, power stations in general have been a desired place for Joneses to hunt). Lesser events, such as the poisoning of Camelford, the English village whose entire population suffered from aluminum contamination in the water supply back in the late 1980s, always seem to bring a Brother or two to hunt as soon as the news gets out.

The Brothers of Ypres themselves don’t seem cut out for working together. They cooperate happily with other vampires, but tend to see other members of the bloodline as competition for valuable food resources. It’s only when a poisoning event is big enough to create a regular source of Vitae for more than a couple of Jones that they appear in numbers. When they Embrace, they do it for a purpose, and don’t generally tend to tell their childer much about the bloodline. A lot of second- and third-generation Joneses (there are no fourth generation Joneses so far) seem to come into the bloodline spontaneously when their blood thickens enough, without being told anything about the limitations or benefits of their heritage. It has always been unusual, although not unheard of, for a Trencher to bring an outsider into the bloodline. The Brothers don’t need the competition.

Reputation: The covenants and clans do not generally have a lot of time for the Joneses, and consider them more of a nuisance than anything else, not least because their power is so useless against the undead. They make the food supply taste vile sometimes, but the miseries they inflict upon the kine are not communicable. Yes, they’re not trustworthy — but who is?

The only thing that Owen Thomas Jones ever really passed down to his bloodline as a tradition is that the Joneses should only ever be seen to profit from toxins in their food — they shouldn’t be the cause of it.

And it’s important for the reputation of the line that no one knows that a high proportion of Joneses keep stocks of toxic substances, ranging from cans of rat poison right through to the vats of Iraqi nerve gas Owen Thomas Jones added to his personal collection only a few years ago.

Concepts: Over-zealous toxicologist, pest exterminator, Black Widow, war crimes suspect, experimental test subject, Gulf War Syndrome sufferer, fired UN weapons inspector, shell-shocked veteran, “unlawful combatant,” urban cyclist

The bloodline known as the Filhos des Bruja (or Bruja’s Sons, or simply the Bruja) seems like something out a nightmare or drug trip from the ’60s. It’s a motorcycle gang of vampires, ghouls and a few handfuls of blood dolls — all dirty, mean-as-hell, leather-wearing monsters tearing up the American Southwest on roaring black American motorcycles when the sun goes down. It might almost be funny to those who’ve never seen the Bruja in action, but this isn’t some bullshit Sunday-afternoon club for impotent middle-aged men, or another overcommercialized Big Red Machine. These guys are locusts who hate you and who have no respect for notions of domain or the Kindred Traditions.

The gang first formed in the late ’40s around a charismatic punk bastard named Carlos Saavedra. Growing up a lazy, no-account orphan during the Depression, Saavedra kept himself amused with petty crime, animal cruelty and a burgeoning love of violence. Yet, no matter how many of his friends got roughed up or hauled down to juvenile detention for going along with his illicit whims, Carlos was never caught, arrested or even so much as charged for anything he did wrong. His uncanny luck earned him the nickname Hijo de Bruja (“witch’s boy”), which later became just Bruja. His knack for staying out of trouble couldn’t last forever, though, and shortly after he was drafted into the army to fight in the war, he was drummed right back out for drunkenness and incompetence. He was sent back home in disgrace, where he fell in with the Booze Fighters motorcycle gang.

It was some years later when Carlos caught the attention of an iconoclastic Gangrel who became obsessed with transforming Carlos “Bruja” Saavedra into a compliant but violent weapon who could threaten the established Prince in the Gangrel’s home domain. He Embraced Carlos and tried to urge him toward the Carthian cause, only to learn that his childe would have none of it. Bruja saw his cursed condition as a newfound power, and immediately went back to his gang to “gift” his six closest friends and accomplices with more of that same power. The seven of them then broke off from the Booze Fighters to form their own gang, the Filhos des Bruja. When Carlos’ sire tracked his errant progeny down and tried to correct his mistake, the entire gang jumped him and Carlos diablerized him on the spot.

Since then, the gang’s been growing slowly and getting worse. Where it once comprised just seven troublemakers whose nastiest crimes included vandalism, assault and disturbing the peace, it’s now become a fairly widespread criminal organization. It makes money in drug-trafficking, prostitution, illegal arms dealing, extortion, smuggling, murder for hire and transporting illegal immigrants across the border, just to give a handful of examples. These activities draw customers and potential victims to them, but they also risk drawing Masquerade-shattering attention from local and federal authorities.

What’s worse, Bruja himself has disappeared in the last five years, which hasn’t helped to calm the gang down one bit. Before he left, Carlos demanded at least a modicum of restraint when the gang pulled in somewhere to feed — he even advocated keeping the gang’s Blood Potencies low in order to maintain the option of feeding on animal blood to take the edge off the Hunger. Without him, though, that restraint is dust in the wind, and it’s only a matter of time before the Bruja start descending on isolated Southwestern towns like modern-day Vikings, murdering everyone in sight and razing everything to the ground. It’s possible that a more mature Carlos Saavedra saw this potential arising in the gang and rode away from it all in disgust, but it’s just as likely that one or two of his treacherous cronies took that option out of his hands.

Regardless, the bloodline remains, and even the youngest, meanest, most ignorant members proudly uphold the values of greed, willfulness and sloth that Carlos espoused before he disappeared. In his name, they do what they can to make his gang a symbol of fearsome power and hell-bound eternal freedom.

Covenant: This bloodline is really too small and too young to include members representing all the covenants. In fact, most members’ only loyalty (half-hearted and cloudy though it might be) is to the gang and to the ideals of the founder. While that technically makes the entire bloodline unaligned — or unbound, which is the term Bruja preferred — the odd member drifts away and winds up with one of the established covenants. Some members of the gang have gotten it into their heads somehow that Bruja hooked up with the Ordo Dracul and won’t come back until he’s become something else altogether. Their conviction inspires some jaded or gullible deserters to follow in his supposed footsteps. Others try to hook up with the Circle of the Crone, convinced that Bruja’s nickname means something, man. More rational Bruja make contacts with the Carthians when members of that covenant work hard to unseat power players and are willing to turn a blind eye to what the gang is up to in exchange for help. Sometimes said Carthians’ passion turns into revolutionary fervor, and a particularly charismatic movement-leader can lure away young, excitable Bruja. No Bruja has ever hooked up with the Invictus or the Lancea Sanctum, though, except as a result of brainwashing, blackmail or forced conversion and acceptance of the sacraments. For the most part, the Bruja try to stay the hell away from those two covenants, lest powerful elders of either (or both) crack down on the gang’s whole operation. Not even Bruja himself pushed his infamous luck that much.

Appearance: Most Bruja are black, white, Hispanic or of mixed heritage, anywhere on the spectrum among those three. They’re generally big, loud, hairy, tattooed, unkempt, bristling with body piercings and covered in road dirt (if not blood from a sloppy feeding). The way they dress comes across as an homage to every outlaw biker movie that’s ever been made since the ’50s. They wear heavy leather or denim jackets, hobnail boots, metal helmets (if any), torn-up jeans and T-shirts, with “accessories” like aviator goggles, studded fingerless leather gloves, chain epaulets and bandanas to ward off flying dust. None of them wears any insignia to indicate what gang they belong to, but the bloodline is still small enough that most Kindred members recognize each other on sight. No self-respecting Bruja would ride anything but a burly, growling American bike — no rice rockets — or keep it in anything less than prime running condition. They might be rabble and scum, but they still have standards.

Haven: The Bruja own and/or subsidize several out-of-the-way roadhouses and all-but-abandoned motels out there across the wastelands of the Southwest. They paid for the places with drug money or took them over as a result of too-successful protection rackets, and they’ve converted them into serviceable, sunlight-proof flophouses. These places aren’t much to look at and they have a fair market value of zero dollars, but they aren’t on any maps, and they’re within easy riding distance of (if not each other, at least) some great places to hang out, to have a drink or to get into a fight.

Background: At its current size, the Bruja gang has adopted a fairly strict rule about not Embracing anyone else unless existing vampires drop out. It happens, though, and when it does, it usually happens to people who are already like the rest of the gang. That is to say, big, tough, hard-riding sons of bitches (or just actual bitches) who want to drink blood and kick ass for the rest of eternity. They’re not above occasionally Embracing (or at least creating Vinculums for) criminal contacts for the sake of expediency, and a handful of the really tough hangers-on were random hitchhikers, family men or police officers who got picked up and turned on some cruel whim.

The Bruja are somewhat lax about taking Gangrel they’ve never met before into the gang, since it hardly ever happens anyway. All a prospective Bruja has to do is earn the local head man’s respect (likely by surviving a surprise Bruja beatdown), prove he’s connected by blood to Bruja himself, then pony up a bike and get ready to ride out and meet the other boys and girls. Sounds easy, but if the rest of the gang doesn’t like him, the Bruja-wannabe starts back over at step beatdown.

Character Creation: Bruja vampires don’t tend to be intellectual powerhouses, but neither are they entirely thuggish, apelike brutes. Granted, the bloodline does boast a high percentage of that ilk, but its nominal leaders are just as charismatic and commanding as they are powerful and tough (if not more so). As such, Physical and Social Attributes run a tight race with each other, with Mental ones lagging behind. Most Bruja rely on Physical Skills above all others, followed by Social and Mental as the individual sees fit. Various Social Merits help represent the breadth of the Bruja’s criminal operations and the influence and impact they have on the communities they terrorize. It also makes sense to buy at least a second dot of Blood Potency since a character’s just a punk Gangrel without it.

Organization: The extended pack mentality of the gang is the extent to which the Bruja adhere to any form of organization. The founder’s closest companions are nominally in charge for now, but only until Bruja deigns to come back and start tearing up the road with his boys again. Said companions constantly vie for dominance among one another, and their bickering polarizes the followers around them, but the gang as a whole puts up a pretty unified front. They’re practically of one mind against outsiders who try to give a Bruja any shit, and even the occasional knockdown, drag-out between Bruja rarely results in more than somebody getting a baseball bat across the teeth or a switchblade under his collar bone.

Concepts: Bar brawler, blood-doll pimp, coyote (in the illegal-border-crossing sense), dealer in drugged blood, dragracer, drug dealer, loan shark, motorcycle mechanic, perpetual omega wolf

The Nosferatu bloodline that has come to be known as the Burakumin originated in feudal Japan within the social stratum of the same name. Beneath the samurai and the soldiers and the priests and even peasant farmers were those mortals whose professions were considered “spiritually unclean” by the tenets of the Shinto and Buddhist religions. Such professions included tanning, leather-working, butchery and the handling of dead bodies. People who made their living from these professions were declared unclean and legally worth less than other people, and grouped in small hamlets far from their spiritually poor neighbors. (Roughly translated, in fact, the word burakumin means “hamlet people.”) Considered equally impure and valueless by the Kindred Princes of the Eastern domains, Japanese Nosferatu were restricted from feeding on or Embracing from anyone outside that same class of mortal. In time, all of Japan’s Nosferatu were referred to as Burakumin, and the name and stratification spread throughout much of Eastern Asia as Burakumin Nosferatu expanded their influence under the cover of various Japanese imperialistic advances.

Strictly enforced by Kindred of higher station, these mandates kept Burakumin numbers small and hemmed in what influence they could garner over mortal politics. Their low numbers and popular concentration greatly aided in the development of their uniquely grisly necromantic Discipline. As more Burakumin throughout the Eastern Courts learned it, they found that they were able to exert greater influence in their society and even to wrest occasional grudging concession from their superiors. One such concession was the right for their Prisci to petition the Princes of their domains for redress of grievances committed against individuals by younger Kindred of higher station.

The Meiji Restoration abolished official discrimination against mortal burakumin in Japan in the late 1800s, but where mortals have been slow to do away with their prejudices, vampires are stagnant. The changes in the social climate that have swept past them in the century since have not alleviated the restrictions and conditions placed on Kindred Burakumin. Instead, they have had to strike out on their own and forge their own destiny. Leaving their home domains by the handful ever since Commodore Perry “helped” open trade with the West to Japan, Burakumin have worked subtly to insinuate themselves into positions of influence over major exporters of raw materials. They also worked to gain a small but significant degree of influence over certain manufacturing concerns in the early 1900s as Japan became thoroughly industrialized.

Although their status in the East was limited, the Burakumin’s wealth and influence in the West grew considerably. And when Japan struggled to rebuild its collapsed economy and industry after World War II, the Burakumin’s various holdings and enterprises were best suited to bouncing back and achieving relative stability. It was also the Burakumin who were most willing to leave their home domains and seek wealth and influence overseas in areas of exporting and industrial outsourcing. In the West, they’ve come to find status and respect that has long been denied them, and the support they are able to lend their compatriots back East has greatly improved their standing in the eyes of many local Princes.

And in domains where the Burakumin’s industrial and financial influence (or meddling, depending on who you ask) is not as welcome, they can still earn respect and recognition for teaching their unique Discipline or using it to profitable effect.

Covenant: In the Far East where it originated, this bloodline has traditionally been forced to remain unaligned. Most remnants of the Circle of the Crone covenant were wiped out long ago in favor of Shinto and Buddhist belief structures (or ones as similar to them as local Kindred could bring themselves to uphold). For much the same reason, the Lancea Sanctum has only very recently taken root there, and thus has never been of much interest to the Burakumin — though Kindred roundly disapprove of the unwholesome practice of their necromancies. The local version of the Invictus still proves resistant to accepting the Burakumin, but Western members of that covenant are considerably less so. Many Western Princes fear the strange power that the Burakumin wield, so they graciously invite Burakumin into their domains and grant them rights undreamed of back home. They do so largely to distract and placate these outsiders in an attempt to keep them docile, content and under control, but most Burakumin have been slow to realize how they are being played. The Ordo Dracul goes largely unnoticed by the Burakumin, but the ones who know about it find it baffling and more than a little oblique. The covenant that has had the most impact on Kindred of this bloodline, though, is the Carthian Movement. It proposes a state of true equality in which every vampire is entitled to an equal share in the spoils of the night, which is what the most vocal and active Burakumin have fought for since well before the Meiji Restoration. Carthian ideals have caught on like wildfire in the once-closed Eastern domains, and the Burakumin who introduced them enjoy an upwelling of underground status and influence unlike any they have ever known.

Appearance: All Burakumin Kindred tend to exude the same disturbing, unclean, inhuman presence, which grows more obvious as their age and Blood Potency increases. As they age, they begin to reek of grave soil, and a stifling tomblike quiet emanates from them when they don’t consciously speak or make noise to counteract it. What’s more, their bodies take on a corpselike aspect that no amount of Vitae can ever banish completely. Over time, their skin withers and grows leathery until it’s no more than a parchment-thin veneer stretched taut over knobby bone. Out of dignified indifference to this condition (or sometimes out of a sense of perverse irony), most Burakumin dress and comport themselves with fastidious attention to detail. They do the best they can to make favorable impressions on Kindred around them so as to set prospective allies and business partners at ease (in the West) and to keep from giving anyone specific evidence to support unfavorable prejudices (in the East). Elder Burakumin in the East tend to favor garb that harks back to the mortal styles of the late Tokugawa Shogunate and early Meiji Era, while younger and more progressive Burakumin prefer more severe and formal Western professional attire.

Haven: Eastern Burakumin have traditionally been restricted to communal havens in isolated hamlets populated by those mortals who are considered “unclean” by the tenets of the Shinto and Buddhist religions. Young and more urbanized ones dwell in and beneath large cities, yet well away from Kindred of higher station. Westward-looking Burakumin often wind up competing with local Nosferatu for havens, but as they grow more successful, their new homes come to rival those of the Daeva and the Ventrue.

Background: Elder Eastern Burakumin mostly select progeny from among the societal class of the “unclean from which they themselves were once chosen. More cynical, bitter ones choose from among the beautiful, noble, powerful or traditionally pious in order to spite those who consider themselves so much more pure than the Burakumin. Bloodline members in the West have not made it a habit by and large to Embrace childer, but when they do, they choose those who can help them achieve their business and political goals and to adapt to their foreign environment.

Character Creation: Burakumin don’t tend to have high Social Attributes, especially those who remain in Eastern domains. Neither do they place a particularly high priority on Physical Attributes. Their mental prowess has won them the niche in which they thrive, which leads them to favor Mental Attributes and Skills. Many of them tend to value Social Skills as well, although those propensities do not come as naturally to them. According to their weakness, Status is not a particularly economical buy up front, but other Social Merits (as well as certain Mental ones) can be worthwhile. It also makes sense to buy a second dot of Blood Potency since a character can’t officially join this bloodline or learn Getsumei until then.

Organization: In their Eastern homes, Burakumin have little choice but to come together with others of their own kind, lest they face a Requiem of maddening solitude. Individual Burakumin defer to regional Prisci, who communicate with ministers responsible for passing on edicts from local Princes. Priscus is usually the highest station to which a Burakumin can hope to rise in the East, and though it conveys significant status among other Burakumin, that status isn’t worth quite as much to anyone else. Moving West, these Kindred stick together for the sake of familiarity among strangers and in strange lands, but they adhere to no established internal hierarchy. Some scatter to the four winds, never looking back, while others fall in with other kinds of Nosferatu, lacking the ability to adapt sufficiently to their new environments to forge their own destinies.

Concepts: Ancestral avenger, aspiring upstart Primogen, blackmailer, forensic pathologist, grave robber, importer, mortician, private investigator, spectral intercessor, tanner

On el Día de los Muertos in Mexico City in 1902, a chapter house of the Ordo Dracul embarked on a bizarre experiment in an attempt to understand the Day of the Dead and its occult origins. The Mexico City Dragons had a theory that, to a limited extent, the laws of life and death worked backwards during the Day of the Dead. They held that the shades of the dead did not want to return to the world of the living, but that some compelling force drew them back from the Underworld just as surely as it normally drew the souls of the deceased to their eternal rest.

The Dragons further hypothesized that, just as some souls were able to resist that force by remaining on the earthly plane after death, some souls might also be able to resist the spiritual “low tide” and remain in the afterlife through the Day of the Dead. By studying both those ghosts who remained in the material realm and those who clung to the Underworld, the Dragons thought to achieve a greater understanding of the forces that anchored the Kindred soul in its state of perpetual stasis.

The Dragons gathered in their chapter house shortly before midnight on November 2, 1902. There were five researchers present to catalog the results of the experiment, which was to be conducted principally by Hector Luíz Guerrera, a Nosferatu elder who had been a medium in his breathing days, and another whose identity was never recorded — popular theory holds that this other was a mortal necromancer. At precisely midnight, when tradition dictated that the souls of the departed began to return to the world, Guerrera and his associate conducted a ritual that was supposed to conjure a ghost from the Underworld, which would be channeled into Guerrera and use the Nosferatu as a mouthpiece. The ritual appeared to work, but the ghost’s strength of will proved stronger than the Dragons had expected. Guerrera, apparently under the ghost’s control, killed his associate and three of the researchers, then fled the chapter house. The surviving Dragons reported that Guerrera’s previously unremarkable face had been transformed into the likeness of a skull, giving him the appearance of a living calaca mask.

Hector Guerrera disappeared from Kindred society after that unfortunate event, and popular consensus was that the possessing ghost, not realizing its new body was that of a vampire, did not seek shelter from the sun and was killed a second time the next dawn. Then, in 1928, a Kindred with a face like a calaca mask presented herself at the Mexico City chapter house of the Ordo Dracul. She claimed to be the childe of Hector Luíz Guerrera, and said that her sire had mastered the ghost that possessed him and learned much about the “tidal forces of life and death.” His childe, Rosa, had been sent to guarantee that no retribution would come upon Guerrera for the deaths of the three Dragons more than a quarter of a century before. Rosa was assured that Guerrera would be welcomed back with open arms, as long as he would share his insights with the order.

On el Día de los Muertos in 1928, Hector himself returned to Mexico City, bringing with him a brood of eight childer, each with the same skull-like face as their sire. True to Guerrera’s word, the Calacas bloodline brought with it a new understanding of the strange forces of life and death that caused el Día de los Muertos. Guerrera and most of his childer still dwell in Mexico City, continuing their studies of ghosts and the Underworld. Thanks largely to the Calacas, the Dragons of Mexico City are acknowledged some of the leading experts on the subjects in all Mexico.

Covenant:
Most Calacas belong to the Ordo Dracul. In fact, the bulk of Calacas in modern nights have no direct blood lineage with Hector Luíz Guerrera at all, having been inducted instead by Guerrera or one of his childer acting as Avus. Those Calacas who leave the order usually remain Unbound, but some have been known to fall in with the Circle of the Crone. Less mystically inclined Calacas tend to favor the Carthian Movement over the Invictus. To date, there has been no verifiable record of a Calaca joining the Lancea Sanctum, but that is likely due more to the Ordo Dracul’s prejudice against the Sanctified being fed to fledgling Calacas rather than any specific disinclination toward the teachings of Longinus.

Appearance:
Most Calacas are of Mexican heritage, but they range across the spectrum from almost-pure Spanish blood to 100% Zapotec. They tend to dress in reserved, subdued clothing befitting an academic, though some young Calacas deliberately take an opposite tack, dressing in brightly colored, elaborately decorated traditional dress, making themselves look like the calaca decorations mortals put up for el Día de los Muertos.

As part of assuming the Calaca bloodline, all members’ faces become exceptionally pale and distorted, with small eyes sunken in deep sockets, vestigial noses and thin lips that show the prominent outlines of their teeth. Their appearance is not blatantly supernatural, and most humans who see them assume that they suffer from some deformity or birth defect, but a Calaca’s bizarre appearance will certainly draw attention.

Haven:
Most of the Calacas in Mexico City lair at the Ordo Dracul’s chapter house in that city rather than maintaining havens of their own. Those who do maintain havens, or members traveling abroad, often claim cemeteries or old, abandoned mortuaries as havens. Others prefer the traditional Nosferatu standby and lair in the sewers or storm tunnels.

Background:
When a Calaca Embraces, she almost always chooses a mortal with some sort of psychic affinity for ghosts. Whether this is simply out of respect for their founder or because mediums have some ineffable quality that survives the Embrace and makes the bloodline’s studies of the afterlife easier has never been revealed outside the bloodline. Naturally, as members of the Ordo Dracul, Calacas also look for a keen intelligence and a desire to question and ultimately understand the world around them.

Currently, however, the bulk of the Calacas bloodline comprises ancillae and, rarely, particularly gifted neonates who were not Embraced into the bloodline, but who have spent years studying ghosts and mapping Haunts and have advanced the order’s understanding of these subjects sufficiently to impress Hector Guerrera, or one of his childer. These notable scholars are offered membership in the bloodline, with one of Guerrera’s original childer (or, in rare cases, Guerrera himself) serving as the prospective member’s Avus. Some Nosferatu have traveled from as far as Yucatán or even the United States to receive this honor.

Character Creation:
Most Calacas are of a scholarly bent, and not terribly well adapted in social situations (unsurprising, given their parentage). Ghosts don’t always congregate in easily accessed public places, and Calacas must sometimes investigate crumbling Aztec ruins or hazardous mountain passes to conduct their research; as such, Mental Attributes tend to be primary, with Physical secondary and Social lagging behind. Likewise, Calacas tend to focus on Mental Skills and Merits, with Occult and Eidetic Memory being the most common, respectively. Physical Skills are useful for exploration and self-defense, but many Calacas prefer to make Social Skills their secondary category in order to have a broader palette to draw from when dealing with recalcitrant ghosts. Buying a second dot of Blood Potency is a good idea, or else the character is just a Nosferatu applicant hoping to be chosen for the bloodline.

Organization:
The Calacas are still a fairly small bloodline, and though they are mostly centrally located, they are surprisingly loosely organized. Individual members are free to pursue whatever line of research they feel is relevant, as long as they share their findings with the rest of the bloodline and, ostensibly, the Ordo Dracul (in reality, Hector Guerrera decides which of the bloodline’s findings are passed on to the order at large). If a member’s work is considered frivolous, dangerous or otherwise detrimental, a simple majority vote of Guerrera’s childer can proscribe a Kindred from continuing. Guerrera himself can veto his childer on these votes, and occasionally does so.

Character Concepts: Ghost hunter, Kindred medium, leyline mapper, Ordo Dracul troubleshooter, Underworld-obsessed researcher.

Kindred emotions are but a pallid, hollow echo of living passions. Genuine feelings flowing through a warm, beating heart are lost to the undead. Most Kindred envy the living their emotions. The Xiao crave them. Unable to sustain their existence through Vitae alone, these Daeva offshoots drain their victims of emotions just as they feast on their blood. The secretive, cult-like bloodline has mastered the art of finding and exploiting those to whom emotions are a burden. The angry and bitter youths, the impressionable, those who have been recently rejected or suffered some other misfortune. The Xiao find such mortals, shower them with love and attention, present them a false faÁade of friendship and sincere concern, and then induct them into their blood cult to strip their victims of their very minds and souls.

Records of the bloodline founder’s vampiric existence date back to the second half of the 19th century. Allegedly, Xiao Jun Jie was already a vampire when he moved to California from the Asian southeast. What is known for certain is that within a couple of decades the prolific Daeva had at least two childer and a sizable human herd.

At first, Xiao’s followers were organized into an avant-garde polyamorous ring, but mystical elements crept into their philosophy. Xiao fancied himself a “holy man” — despite not being a “man” anymore — and went to reside with his followers and many lovers in a reclusive commune. He started a disturbing cult, mixing elements of primitive Buddhism with Catholic paraphernalia and the sharing of Vitae. His teachings revolved around escaping the cycle of reincarnation though ascetic practices, involving fasting, sleep deprivation, intercourse with the master himself and, ultimately, drinking the master’s blood.

Suffering more than the average Daeva from the sterility of emotions that plagues all Kindred, Xiao devised a Discipline that allowed him to siphon passions away from his living herd. He gorged himself on his followers’ passions, rekindling his own while destroying any interest they could have for anything but him. Slowly but surely his following grew in both numbers and dedication — most of his faithful now regarded him as a lover, a father, a god and more.

In the early years of the 20th century, some of his descendants managed to snap out of Xiao’s spiritual iron grip. They were able to tear the veil of lies the cult had spun around them and flee. Known as Apostates, these rogue Xiao dwell in fear of reprisal. Xiao cannot stand being rejected by his own blood; deranged by decades of worship, he simply can’t stand the thought of someone who knows him but doesn’t love him. The elder vampire spends a great deal of resources trying to track down his stray childer, working to bring them back to the fold or destroy them.

This night, while most bloodline members still owe loyalty to the founder, a few rogue Xiao cults are scattered across Europe and Asia, far from their old master’s interference. Other Apostates have turned their back on the Xiao lifestyle altogether and are striving to start their Requiems afresh, to find a place within vampiric society despite a troubled past and the enduring threat of the Sect.

Nickname: The Sect (members of the bloodline in good standing) or Apostates (rogue Xiao)

Covenant:
By and large, most Xiao cultists are unaligned. The Sect’s demand for absolute devotion and relentless dedication leaves little time for other pursuits. Besides, most covenants — indeed, most Kindred in their right state of mind — want nothing to do with the Xiao. To those rare outsiders who know the Xiao, the bloodline’s practices are universally considered a potential breach of the Traditions, and especially a severe threat to the Masquerade. For this reason, the covenants will usually turn down any application from a known Xiao.

Apostates, on the other hand, often join a covenant to give a new meaning to their unlives or simply out of a need for protection. The accepting Carthian Movement is the prime choice for disaffected Xiao who have fully rejected the way of their bloodline. The modern, secular outlook of this covenant feels comfortably distant from the mystical Sect. It also helps that the Movement stresses individualism within a structured framework, helping rogue Xiao cope with their newfound freedom. In turn, Xiao tend to do well within the Movement — as uniformly charismatic leaders, Apostates can quickly rise to positions of great responsibility despite suffering some social stigmata because of their past.

The Lancea Sanctum is far less tolerant, but is still home to a small number of Xiao who have managed to turn their back on the Sect without losing their devotion. Sanctified Apostates bring their typical fiery Daeva passion into matters of religion, leaning toward the more mystical side of Longinus’s teachings. They’re more likely to meditate than to sermonize, and are generally more concerned with their own spiritual growth than with a covenant’s agenda. The Lancea Sanctum is prone to consider attachment to an individual Priest a liability rather than an asset. Consequently, Sanctified Apostates rarely reach any position of authority, despite their ability to effortlessly draw sizable followings.

So far, no Xiao is known to have joined the Ordo Dracul, the Circle of the Crone or the Invictus.

Appearance:
Older bloodline members from Xiao Jun Jie’s community are uniformly attractive, chosen to suit his tastes. This is also true of most, but not all, younger Sect members. All Xiao Embraced in the 19th century, and many American Xiao Embraced later on, are of Asian descent.

No Xiao could be described as plain-looking. Bloodline members need to be able to attract attention to use their signature Discipline, so even those few who are not gifted with good looks soon learn how to dress for the part. As fashion-conscious as any Daeva, Xiao strive first and foremost to win trust and confidence. They prefer to sport casual elegance and usually shy away from extravagant looks.

When conducting rites or meditation, Sectarian Xiao wear ornate ceremonial robes devised by the line founder. These are reminiscent of a Chinese Buddhist monk’s robe, usually in lively warm colors, and are sewn with an eclectic assortment of mystical symbols, lifted from Christian, Buddhist and Taoist imagery. There is some variation in ceremonial robes among different communes, but every robe marks its wearer’s status within the bloodline.

Haven:
Sect Xiao are often to be found dwelling in commune-like compounds with their large human herds, usually sharing them with one or more other members of the bloodline. The vampires’ quarters are always impeccably furnished — just as most Daeva, Xiao prefer to spend their Requiems in the lap of luxury. Chambers reserved for the cult masters are also well guarded and generally inaccessible to lowly cultists. The human followers’ quarters, on the other hand, tend to be spartan at best and squalid at worst. If at all possible, the compound will be found in a remote, secluded location comfortably far from prying eyes.

Apostates tend to be more practical-minded in regard to their havens, favoring places that are both hard to find and easy to defend. Religious Apostates favor quiet, secluded, spacious havens. Their spiritual pursuits are readily apparent to any visitor: holy texts and images line the walls, and the smell of incense wafts through the air. Secular Apostates, on the other hand, fall back to the ways of other Succubi, favoring cozy, well-kept quarters in lively urban areas, even at the loss of some safety.

Background:
Faithful Xiao Embrace from within their cult herds exclusively. Indeed, it might be argued that the whole cult’s purpose is to select the best prospective bloodline members. “Best,” in Xiao Jun Jie’s eyes, meaning of course “most beautiful and slavishly loyal.” Over several years, cult members are accurately screened and tested for unswerving faith and unthinking devotion.

Eventually, a handful of the most promising cultists are required to undergo one last trial, breaching the veil between life and death and ascending to a deathless state beyond the circle of reincarnation. To the cultists, this looks like a suicide ritual, and it’s the ultimate test of loyalty. Those who refuse are slain on the spot. The cult leader then Embraces the rest, or tries to. There are known instances of some manic Xiao trying to lead up to 12 cultists at a time into unlife, accidentally slaying all but one or two. Siring many childer seems to confer a measure of status within the Sect, but few Xiao have been able to perform mass Embraces more than once in their Requiem. This practice of mass Embrace does nothing to endear the bloodline to the rest of Kindred society. Most vampires see it as an offense to the Second Tradition and an unreasonable drain on the blood supply. Many simply see it as an abhorrent, downright despicable practice.

Most Xiao are of American nationality, and a plurality are of Asian descent. Members are chosen for their ability to successfully found and lead a cult cell of their own. Good looks, a strong personality, burning ambition and a way with words are all highly sought after. Usually, cultists are drawn to the Xiao because the mortals find themselves at odds with society, or are unable to cope with some change they are going through.

Apostates are an even more diverse lot. Most are ex-cult members who escaped the bloodline’s clutches. They share most of the traits normally associated with Sect Xiao, except blind devotion to the bloodline. A tiny minority of Xiao have never been cultists themselves, being instead the childer of fugitive Apostates.

Character Creation:
As with all Daeva, Xiao favor Social Attributes and Skills. Furthermore, they all excel at Intimidation and Persuasion and receive at least some training in Academics and Occult. The Striking Looks Merit is a given for any Xiao, and Sect members should invest some dots in Herd and a communal Haven.

Organization:
The Sectarian Xiao act much like a tight-knit charismatic cult, centered upon the bloodline founder, Xiao Jun Jie. As he created more childer, the founder sent them to other cities to spread the cult. Only a few were successful, though. Princes usually resent such intrusion on their domains and stomp out Sect cells with cold efficiency. No Xiao cell is known to exist in the American Midwest or on the East Coast.

Most Sectarian Xiao still reside on the West Coast, and all members in a given city share a haven and form a coterie. The single largest Xiao cell is located in California, where the bloodline founder resides. Some other West Coast states also boast a Xiao cell, usually consisting of one Kindred cell leader, two to four other coterie members, either vampires or ghouls, and at least 10 or 20 human followers. These independent cells often have something in common with the main Californian cult, but they also reflect their local leaders’ personalities to some degree. A few work like secretive, paranoid militias; others have closer ties with organized crime and run extensive drug and prostitution rings under the religious faÁade. Regardless, all cult members are expected to show absolute loyalty to their cell leader.

Rogue Xiao don’t usually keep any ties with members of their bloodline. A few crusading Apostates, though, have taken upon themselves the duty to help others escape the Sect. Over time, informal rings of Apostates have sprung up in a few cities. These loose affiliations provide each other with counsel and mutual protection, but have little in the way of formal organization, and most are rarely willing to trust any member of the line they don’t already know.

Concepts: Doomsday preacher, spoiled socialite, angst-ridden runaway teen, frustrated writer, ex-cult member, paranoid militiaman, commune leader, conspiracy theorist, jaded polygamist, abusive office boss.

History and Culture: The Canda Bhanu consider themselves but one among many: they are of the bloodlines of vampires who, in the aftermath of the terrible war between the gods, the demons, and their own demon-tainted people, were chosen by the gods to bring healing to the world. In this they are at least somewhat humble, though the brahmin vampires, as a whole, are not at all meek. While they are, in total, the least populous of the varnas, they wield political and social influence that far outstrips their numbers — thanks to their exalted station as teachers, scholars, priests, and, perhaps most significantly, blood-sorcerers. Even among the brahmin, the Canda Bhanu are a small but vastly influential bloodline, and this prominence extends not only within their own clan but to others as well, owing to their skills as diplomats and politicians more than to any particular esoteric skills for which the brahmin are generally known.

This is because the Canda Bhanu are not what they claim to be, though even they have forgotten the truth of what they are. They are, in fact, the descendants not of a native lineage of brahmin extraction but from that of a refugee seeking a safe exile in their land: a Ventrue adventurer who fled Rome in the waning days of the Empire, escaping the consequences of his own poor decisions, of treachery that would otherwise have been resolved only with his Final Death. He escaped the Eternal City with the most loyal of his childer and servants, just ahead of his enemies, and took ship to the East. When he ran out of sea, he and his attendants fled by land across the desolation of the Hindu Kush, seeking a safe haven where no one knew his face or his name or his deeds. He found that haven in the great cities of India, teeming with mortal life among whom he could lose himself while he learned the lay of the land and the local Kindred society.

It required some time, and some effort on his part, but eventually he found his way into the counsels of the prince, who was a kshatriya of the Gangrel, and from there into a position as that prince’s close advisor, in preference of the brahmin counselor whose guidance he found an onerous imposition on his desire to make war with his neighbors. An elegant solution to their mutual dilemma was devised: in return for the gods’ blessings upon his endeavors, the Roman refugee would be permitted to dispose of the irritating brahmin as he wished.

Thus the Canda Bhanu were (re)born in an atrocious crime. The already tiny brahmin bloodline, their entire dominion residing within the grasp of a prince hostile to them, was systematically hunted down and devoured by the Roman, his kin, and his newly acquired native allies. None escaped to tell the tale, and, knowing the infamy of what he had done, the newly created paterfamilias took no chances in further hiding the evidence. Within a decade, he arranged for the deposition and assassination of the prince whose ambitions had enabled the massacre in the first place, along with his entire immediate brood and any allies to whom he might have confided. Eventually, time, torpor, and the helpful effects of native internecine struggles succeeded in obliterating any recollection of the original Canda Bhanu and what they had been, leaving only what they had become.

Thus it is written:

The wars between the gods and the demons, and the armies of their chosen warriors, ravaged the Earth by both day and night. The suffering of all peoples was great. Famine stalked the fields, stole the food from the tables of kings and sages, warriors and farmers, and the starving multitudes cried out to Heaven for sustenance. Pestilence flowed through the cities and the towns, the great temples and the humble villages, carrying away first the very young and the very old, and then laying its baneful touch on all, that none lived to offer prayers for those who had fallen or aid to those who yet survived. Demons carried away the sons and daughters of men, to profane them with unholy lusts, and taught blasphemy from the defiled altars of the gods, to turn the people away from their dharma and bring the whole of the universe to unending darkness and chaos. This terrible war gave birth to the night-hunting warriors of the kshatriya and, in time, the cruel weight of its toil wore away at their minds and souls, until they were little more than demons themselves.

The gods saw how far their night-warriors had fallen and shed tears of grief and despair. As the tears of the gods fell upon the blighted Earth, some among the night-warriors came forth to bathe themselves in these divine waters, seeking to wash away the stain of hatred and violence that the war had left upon their souls. At the sight of this, the gods knew hope again, for if the demon-tainted could still seek out righteousness, all was not lost for the world. One of the highest of all the gods left his seat of contemplation and descended to the soul-hungry night-warriors, who fell upon their knees before him in awe and worship, offering him prayers for the healing of their pain. To assuage the hungers of their flesh, he laid open his own veins and permitted them to drink deeply of his divine blood. To assuage the hungers of their souls, he took them apart from the world to the holy mountain where he dwelt, that he might teach them more deeply of the ways of righteousness and the path to conquering the demon-madness that lay within them. There they abided for many long years, learning the way from the great divine sage, and, when the hour seemed darkest for those left behind, they emerged again to offer the fruits of their studies to all the asura-children of the great war.

Thus it is written:

The newly-born brahmin of the night peoples went forth into the world to bring the word of hope and righteousness to their fellows, to let them know that the war they fought was not the beginning and the ending of all things for them. Many at first refused to listen, for their anguish had blinded them to all but terrible despair, and many more had no desire to receive the teachings, for their hatred and their lusts were better served by base indulgence. But, for some, the gentle words of their brahmin kin were as a balm to the soul and in them they found healing and a path beyond war and suffering to a future unshackled from both. Slowly, the words that the sages spoke spread from the small circles of their first students, washing out like soothing water, making pure that which had been sullied, making whole that which had been sundered, bringing peace to that which had been at war.

Thus it is written and thus it remains

Eventually, even the Canda Bhanu themselves forgot that their lineage had originated in treachery and murder, though both continued to follow the bloodline’s destiny like a bloodstain that refused to wash away. Bereft of the blood sorcery that had been the province of the name’s previous owners, the Canda Bhanu nonetheless maintained their brahmin social status, serving a succession of princes as political advisors, diplomats, religious advocates and social provocateurs, eventually branching out from their northern “roots” to take positions of great intellectual and religious prominence in the city-states of the south, as well. In the process, they became almost more brahmin than even other brahmin, cleaving to the native philosophies they co-opted for their own gain with something approaching a convert’s zeal and passing that zealotry down to their offspring, who perpetuated it down the line to the present. The social battles for dominance between the kshatriya vampires, who believed they possessed a divinely bestowed mandate to make war and rule according to the precepts revealed to them, and the brahmin, who believed they possessed the divinely bestowed right to overrule the dictates of even immortal rulers in order to promote the proper adherence to vampiric dharma, were the source of much of their influence. Few princes wished to rule without the imprimatur of the gods or the approval of the priestly caste, and the Canda Bhanu were among the most adept at ruling from behind the thrones of those who sought their counsel — and occasionally seizing those thrones for themselves. Their efforts, in particular, bore fruit in their extensive alliances with, and manipulations of, assorted Rakshasa kshatriya princes, many of which persisted deep into the 19th century and the coming of the European invaders to the Indian subcontinent.

Karmas Retribution

None still undead tonight, including the “new” Canda Bhanu themselves, remember the original Canda Bhanu, the tiny, insular, extremely devout and scholarly Mekhet bloodline destroyed and consumed by the Ventrue invaders who claimed their name. The blood in their veins, however, does not forget what it is…and neither does the vengeance levied against that blood. When it became obvious that their doom was upon them and would not be denied, the eldest and most powerful blood sorcerer of the original Canda Bhanu lineage spent the last of herself in a terrible curse: that the treachery and murder that their killers brought to their doors would revisit itself upon them and bring them low, karma twisting upon itself to avenge the fall of the blameless and righteous. The act of diablerie that ended her unlife sealed that magic into the blood of her murderer and all his descendants. The Canda Bhanu are doomed to end as they began. Whether they will destroy only themselves or if they will take others down with them remains to be seen.

The European invasions created both conflict and opportunity. Pre-existing social pressures, within the rigidly stratified culture of the Indian Kindred, were coming to a boil as the perpetually fractious kshatriya caste prepared to enter into one of its cyclical changes of rulership, the pretenders to the office of the Chhatrapati lining up to assert their dominance over the others. Meanwhile, assorted factions within the brahmin caste were also contemplating changes in the society of their kind. It was the thinking of many brahmin — the majority of the Canda Bhanu bloodline among them — that for too long the stability of their society had depended on the violent whims of the kshatriya, who were becoming less and less biddable with every passing year, less inclined to accept the wisdom of their spiritual superiors. Certain overtures were made to a selection of European Kindred, certain communications exchanged, certain agreements put into place. When the kshatriya, as they inevitably did, ceased their preliminary “negotiations” and drew their knives on each other, the situation was ripe. The Canda Bhanu and their co-conspirators in the brahmin and vaisya castes passed intelligence to their European allies, disclosing the safe resting-places of a dozen torpid kshatriya elders, the temple-havens of dozens more kshatriya princes and influential ancillae, and then stepped back to allow the western mercenaries and assassins to do their work. The kshatriya were decimated in a series of swift, savage attacks that left many of the southern courts in chaos, deprived of their princes and many of their governing elders. Unfortunately for the brahmin, what happened next did not precisely unspool as planned: the European Kindred proved more than willing to extend the already treacherous situation to their erstwhile allies, as well. The Canda Bhanu, as the bloodline who had interacted most closely with the Europeans as a go-between and intelligence conduit, suffered the most directly from this turnabout. Never as populous as some of the older brahmin bloodlines, they and their dominions were ravaged by the invaders and their numbers horribly reduced by outright murder. Only one Canda Bhanu who claimed personal rulership of her own domain survived the assault against them, and even she was wounded almost to Final Death. Only a handful of the bloodline’s most powerful and puissant members survived to flee back into the north, exiled, their power utterly broken. The only consolation — and it was extremely cold comfort — was that the betrayal of the European Kindred had effectively obscured the culpability of the brahmin in general and Canda Bhanu in specific in the slaughter of the kshatriya caste.

From their northern exile, the Canda Bhanu brooded on this reversal of their fortunes and considered their options, slowly nursing their wounds and nourishing their bitterness. Their Rakshasa allies, who had suffered heavy losses in both the kshatriya blood-war and the subsequent attempt to annihilate their caste, slunk out of the south to bring word of the Europeans, their strengths and weaknesses. The surviving kshatriya bloodlines, bloody and broken but fundamentally unbowed, began to coalesce again in knots of fury and unexpectedly robust resistance to further European expansion, though no single leader emerged from their ranks. A slow but steady program of retaliation against the European invaders and European princes who had seized Indian thrones began. The Canda Bhanu were gratified when the proud, fierce Amara Havana finally swallowed that pride for the first time in centuries, making their peace with the Rakshasa and consenting to take counsel with the brahmin, creating an alliance between the three bloodlines that successfully targeted and executed a series of vicious, precision attacks against their particular nemesis: the Invictus princes of the south. Though it took the best part of a century, eventually the European invaders were forced into flight, abandoning their Indian holdings and childer to the tender mercies of the kshatriya they had displaced. Now, in the 21st century, the Canda Bhanu, still bitter at the failure of their own treachery, still furious at being betrayed themselves, are at the forefront of the movement within Indian Kindred society to continue retaliation against the European Kindred wherever they now lair. The honor of the blood demands it, they say. The honor of those who were betrayed and who fell, the honor and rajadharma of the kshatriya which were despoiled and defiled by the invaders, cries out to be avenged upon the defilers. If not now, when?

Politicians and manipulators with few peers, the Canda Bhanu were also one of the handful of Indian bloodlines to expend any effort at maintaining those few connections they possessed with non-hostile western Kindred. These relationships are being put to work now. Younger members of this lineage, more likely to possess the necessary cosmopolitan mind-sets and educational backgrounds, have been sent forth to renew old ties of diplomacy and scholarship, the better to use those bonds to secure intelligence on their western enemies — and work subtly against the schemes of their erstwhile allies. In truth, the Canda Bhanu thirst to humble, humiliate and tame the kshatriya even more than they desire to avenge themselves against the western Kindred. Certain factions within the bloodline have begun undermining the efforts of the kshatriya to locate and isolate the western elders who attempted the conquest of India a century and a half ago, while other factions work to advance those goals. Eventually, something is going to give.

Reputation: The Canda Bhanu have, among their own kind, a reputation for extreme piety. They exemplify the moral code of the vampiric brahmin: control of their emotions and the resistance of the darker heart of their nature, pursuit of truth and purity, extensive study of and teaching from the sacred scriptures, the offering and acceptance of sacrifice, and the performance of ritual. In fact, many among their own kind perceive the Canda Bhanu as not only being exceptionally righteous, rigidly so, but also more than slightly self-righteous –— the pride they take in their own unsullied purity, which they claim they maintained by preferring Final Death to submission to the European invaders, is particularly galling to the Amara Havana, whose elders suffered destruction in a considerably less ritually pure fashion.

In truth, the Canda Bhanu are treacherous, murderous, extremely self-righteous bastards, almost one and all, with a sufficient population of genuinely pious individuals to give their less tolerable kin a screen behind which to work. Furious at having been denied their opportunity to dispose of the intractable, ungovernable kshatriya — the primary stumbling-block to their own assumption of power — they are fully prepared now to finish the job they started a century and a half ago, manipulating their countrymen through the twin mechanisms of legitimate desire for vengeance and cultural guilt.

Concepts: Diabolical mastermind, self-serving spiritual guide, manipulative power behind the throne, ultraconservative cultural judge, sadistic teacher, tragically true believer, wise old master, waif goddess, karma’s chew toy, rebellious scion

The 12 Battles of the Isonzo saw not only the horrors of the trenches, but the “white death” — avalanches brought down by the constant impact of shells against the sides of the mountains. Thousands upon thousands of men met their ends under the rolling slides of stone and snow. The lucky ones were crushed instantly. But others, trapped in their trenches, suffo- cated or slowly froze under the ice, with no hope of rescue. And some of those trapped under the collapsed mountainside faced the creatures who burrowed under the snow and dragged their victims away into the dark, one by one, storing them away in subterranean larders, keeping them alive for months or years if necessary as vessels for their thirsts.

When the Battle of Caporetto ended, the armies withdrew from the Isonzo, and gradually the monsters of Caporetto exhausted their hellish pantries and moved on.

Over the years, they found other burrows, other places to hide far away from that blood-soaked mountain range. But the frozen death of the Isonzo became part of that strange cold vampire tribe, and it travels with them wherever they go.

History and Culture: None of the Caporetti know for sure who founded their bloodline. All that has been established is that the Nosferatu of the Isonzo devel- oped an aptitude for burrowing and an affinity with the cold. Of the three likely candidates for the founder of the bloodline, one had been a resident in the region of Caporetto for several hundred years, and had apparently always been that way; one was a neonate with a talent for killing; and one, allegedly, wasn’t even really a vampire. If these monsters ever existed, they were gone by the end of the Great War, leaving their childer able to make their own way.

These original Caporetti were loners who kept frozen larders made of the hapless soldiers of the Isonzo. Most of them kept to themselves, and, if they had the urge to create childer, cut them loose soon after the Embrace. The result was that beyond their supernatural affinity with the cold and the urge to burrow, the Caporetti have little in common other than the name, a certain moleish look in the eyes and a way they hold their hands… which are almost invariably large and spadelike, and usually filthy.

They traveled. They Embraced. By the end of the 1920s, Caporetti had turned up in places as far afield as the Rockies and the Himalayas. In the Second World War, coteries of Caporetti thrived in the snows of the Eastern front, and fed well on the bleeding wounded of Stalingrad, dragging them under the snow and earth as they stumbled on the killing fields of the Great Patriotic war. During the Vietnam war, a Caporetto somehow wound up in the tunnels under Saigon.

Mostly, however, their hunting tactics don’t define them so much as the role they take in the night society of the Kindred. Some style themselves as enforcers, or hunters, or hounds. Some keep out of the way of living humans altogether, except when they have to feed. Some set themselves up with a fake mythology as the ghosts who haunt deserted mountainsides and well-worn suicide spots.

Reputation: Other Kindred are ambivalent about the Caporetti. On the one hand, a Caporetto is hugely valuable as an assassin — the first thing a victim knows about the presence of a Caporetto is a chill in the air, followed by the hand that erupts from the mud or the snow and drags the target underground.

Some princes, on the other hand, see the presence of a monster who makes the air cold just by being there as a breach of the Masquerade that cannot be tolerated. In the end, though, it depends on the Caporetto. A vampire who attempts to make his lair under the middle of a busy park or common will attract far more attention — from vampires and humans alike — than one who keeps himself to himself and dwells up a mountain.

Concepts: Tunnel rat, morgue worker, meat packer, sewer maintenance man, professional spelunker, missing mountaineer, escaped prison inmate, mole-man, obsessive snowboarder, urban explorer

The Carnon were a mistake. The first of these so-called Horned Gods was a San Francisco vampire who had confused Wiccan writings and the monomythic analyses of cultural anthropologists with historical fact. Thinking he was fashioning himself in the timeless image of an ancient god, this young vampire invested his Vitae with his wild passion for earthly thrills and, in a night of bloody frenzy, transformed his blood forever.

He never learned that Wicca was a modern creation made from fragments of old pagan beliefs in an effort to honor ancient ways. Rather, that fi rst Carnon went out of the world in a screaming, fiery mess after leading mortal witch-hunters on a brutal, three-night chase by car, on foot and across the Northern California hillsides.

Later Kindred claimed the fi rst Carnon was an ignorant neopagan hippy driven to his mad destruction by tainted blood. But that misses the point. To the Carnon, it doesn’t matter if he was wrong about Cernunnos and Pan and the scholastically correct origins of their image. What matters is that he survived for three nights with desperate, hateful hunters on his heels.

The first Carnon terrifi ed his enemies and was part of a great hunt. Vampires will sing songs about it. That’s what it’s about for the Carnon.

The Horned Gods are the descendants of that first Carnon, who they worship not like a god, but like a rock star. His name is unknown, lost in the tangled grapevines of a million mistaken versions of his tale. Tonight, they call him John Carnon, and nobody cares that it’s wrong.

John Carnon put himself through hell, heroin and the Requiem in an effort to create something new in the 1960s. He tried painting, music, poetry, but he always met with miserable failure. How exactly he came to be Embraced is unclear, but it happened somewhere between 1965 and 1967. Something about his tribulation — his self-destruction in pursuit of art — appealed to some Acolyte witch who took his blood and gave him hers. That was the turning point.

John Carnon took to bloodsucking like he’d been born to do it. He looked like Jim Morrison and fucked like John Holmes. He hunted women and the LSD in their veins with animal intuition. He imagined that hunting would be his art.

Somewhere during this time, John Carnon fell in with an Acolyte coterie and became obsessed with neopagan symbolism. Based on just the barest threads of pagan belief and imagery, he chose to fashion himself and his Requiem on the virile and wild Horned God archetype. In 1970, all but starving and tripping on precious little laced Vitae, he fell into a terrible frenzy while in pursuit of a woman on the streets of San Francisco. According to bloodline legend, this frenzy lasted for six nights. On the seventh, John Carnon’s blood had changed into the Carnon bloodline.

What, if anything, Carnon intended for his bloodline will never be known. In the weeks immediately following his transformation, John Carnon Embraced fi ve childer in a fl urry of insane excess. As William Blake wrote, and Jim Morrison lived, “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.” John Carnon spent an eternity in half a decade under this philosophy.

With his four childer left reeling in his wake, and his will broken by the expenditure of their creation, John Carnon degenerated into an almost animal state. Within a month his bloody attacks had attracted the attention of vampire-hunters from as far away as Portland and L.A. His legendary chase and destruction took place soon thereafter. John Carnon’s Requiem was no more than five years long from end to end.

In his absence, left with only his confused legacy, the Carnon bloodline stood on the verge of extinction. But each of Carnon’s four childer adopted their sire’s bloodline within a few years and reinvented it for their own Requiems. In their hands, the bloodline was calmed and refi ned, if only in comparison to their frenzied founder.

Those first Carnon researched more of the Horned God myths that had inspired, however vaguely, their sire and strove to give their Requiems new meaning through its symbolism. But they also worked to make themselves more valuable to the covenant that had taken them in, the Circle of the Crone, and to express their rebellious attitudes against the first establishment they found to oppose: the Lancea Sanctum.

That first Carnon coterie used the Sanctified church as a landmark to position themselves on the Kindred philosophical spectrum. These young rockers would be religious radicals and the Lancea Sanctum would be their crusty adversaries. To the Carnon, the Sanctified were narrow-minded oppressors forcing a single, suffocating take on religion down the throats of the Kindred masses. Nevermind that this was hardly the case in San Francisco, where the Circle of the Crone had a robust membership. The Carnon wanted to protest, and they’d found their cause.

That gave the bloodline its appeal to other fiery neonates. The Carnon became pagan radicals with a rock ‘n roll sensibility, and hedonistic new vampires ate it up. Kindred came to the Carnon (and, by extension, the Circle of the Crone) from the shadows of unaligned society and the ranks of the Carthians in startling numbers. This gave the bloodline new credence in the eyes of the local Hierophant. At least for a time.

The Carnon cult of personality eventually imploded when, in the tradition of their sire, those first four childer Embraced too much too soon and left themselves weakened to the sway of the Beast. None of them went out as spectacularly as their sire, but it seems that none of them survived to 1980.

Such is the tradition of the Carnon. Few of these Horned Gods enjoy long Requiems. Thus, not many Kindred know what secrets lurk in the blood of the Carnon, waiting to manifest in those rare Bucks whose Vitae ripens with power.

Tonight, the Carnon have spread throughout the United States and into parts of Canada and Mexico. Nomadic Requiems appeal to the kind of souls that become Horned Gods, and escape from a scuffed Masquerade is often necessary for these wild ones.

Modern Carnon strive to make more of their Acolyte traditions. A few decades of circulation in the Circle of the Crone has given many Carnon a desire (or a mandate) to become more meaningful parts of the covenant, besides stage performers and thug service.

Though plenty of older Acolytes mock and deride the Carnon to their faces, plenty of others see something marvelous in these young lunatics: The Carnon have endured through a crazy time and great tribulations to create something that is both new but mindful of its ancient roots. If they accept that the Carnon are not yet finished with their creation, and so have not yet reached the heights of their power, then the Acolytes should be able to appreciate the admirable, exuberant possibilities inherent in the Horned Gods.

Covenant:
The Carnon bloodline, as it stands tonight, was created by a coterie of Acolytes as a means of solidifying and demonstrating not only their devotion to the covenant but their overconfident certainty that they were bad-ass sexy thugs entitled to represent the covenant and thumb their noses at stodgy local Sanctified. Though the blood and the culture of the Carnon has managed to spread throughout the western world in the past few decades, their attitudes haven’t been diluted by new members. Bucks are still self-aggrandizing pagan rockers waging a gauche guerilla war against a close-minded, old-fashioned Kindred church that they only know how to relate to as an exaggerated cartoon of itself.

The same Lancea Sanctum that the first Carnons pumped their fists at turns out not to be as narrow-minded, grey-haired and impotent as those early Bucks said they were. The rhetoric of those first Carnon was shouted so loud, though, that it’s still echoing through the bloodline. To date, no Carnon is known to have joined the Lancea Sanctum, though several vampires have joined the bloodline after fleeing that church. In practice, of course, many Carnon actually get along just fine with their local parish Priest or coterie confessor. “I hate those gay-bashing, redneck old fucks!” says the Carnon. “But not you, Mother Lourdes. You’re not one of those Sanctified.” Indeed, few Sanctified probably are.

Carnon have wandered into the ranks of every other covenant, however. In some cities, they serve Invictus or Carthian powers as Hounds, even going so far as to maintain membership in multiple covenants. The Ordo Dracul has attracted a few Carnon into its midst over the years, as well, though the type of monster that makes a good Horned God tends not to make a good Dragon. Carnon enter the Order for short-term benefits then bail when the dues (in service, in blood, in study) get steep.

Appearance:
Many modern Carnon are drawn from the various subcultures of woodsy backpackers, base jumpers and hostel regulars. The iconic image of the Carnon tonight is something akin to a buff, neo-hippy Marlboro man: stubble, long hair, great physique, easygoing demeanor. In practice, it seems that just as many Horned Gods are ratty tattooed neo-punks with thousands of dollars worth of body modifications, from earlobes with oversized inset rings to clamped collarbones to ritual scars. Twisted, overgrown beards are common — even before the Embrace most Carnon looked like the Green Man.

Almost universally, Carnon have solid, impressive builds. Often this means taut muscle, but sometimes barrel chests and simple height is all it takes to fulfill the image. The change of the Gangrel blood into that of the Carnon line somehow brings with it a firm grace, a practiced strut that exaggerates the stature and posture of the Horned God. Some move with the delicate precision of a stag, others with the sure calm of a wolf.

As their Blood Potency increases, Carnon develop more and more unnaturally inhuman qualities. In modern nights these seem to be subtler: some Carnon leave hoof prints inside their own footprints when they walk barefoot, others cast shadows or distorted reflections that seem to be capped with forked, elk-like horns. According to rumor, the eldest Carnon grew horns and were forced to flee the sight of mankind.

Haven:
Carnon live like stags. Many dwell together in seedy, dank bachelor pits littered with unwashed clothes and crumpled magazines. Many others dwell alone in the kind of unreasonable independence that make up adolescent fantasies: sleeping in blacked-out trailers, nesting in the hidden attics of record shops and movie theaters or hiding out in the bomb shelters beneath the high school. Carnon thus favor Haven Location above all else, though for them a prime location may have as much to do with their self-indulgent pastimes as it does with the practical concerns of feeding. Haven Security is also important, though seldom is it anything high-tech; a Carnon finds safety in obscurity and cement walls, not expensive equipment. Haven Size seldom matters much to a Buck, so long as it has a good stereo or television.

Eventually, all of these modern (and bright) things mean nothing to a Carnon, though. Eventually, they all must retreat from the eyes of mortals, either to prowl the wooded shadows at the edge of civilization where they can stalk other vulnerable, isolated vampires for their Vitae or to sleep off the inhuman deformities sparked by their own blood.

Background:
The Carnon bloodline isn’t the sort that Kindred adopt after long centuries of searching or consideration. Carnon are impulsive, shameless (but often regrettable) creatures. Carnon worry about tomorrow when it comes. Tonight is about tonight.

The vast majority of Carnon were Embraced in their youth, and maintain a mixture of teenage rebellion and twenty-something vagabondage throughout their Requiems. Carnon are often though to be exclusively male — which is to say that many Kindred passively assume that all Carnon are men while many others presume the bloodline is philosophically closed to women — but this is not the case. Only a small number of Carnon are Horned Goddesses, but such Kindred do exist, particularly in the Pacific Northwest and the UK.

Plenty of Carnon are intelligent, but many lack the discipline to put it to work. The early Carnon wrote insightful, biting critiques of the Lancea Sanctum in their night — manifestos potent enough to draw lesser-willed vampires to adopt their blood. As the number of Carnon grew over the years, the percentage of great minds in the bloodline naturally dropped as followers gathered around the rock star-like leaders they celebrated. Still, rocking revolutionaries and savvy punks continue to be drawn to the Carnon family, even if they don’t realize their potential or find their discipline until decades after.

Character Creation:
Carnon thus tend to favor power Attributes (Strength, Intelligence, Presence) over others. On average, Social or Physical traits tend to be primary. The Expression Skill is common among the bloodline, whether carried over from life or learned in undeath. The Iron Stamina Merit is a good choice to represent the bloodline’s reckless disregard for its own comfort or wellbeing. Likewise, though it does them little good in damnation, the Iron Stomach Merit seems to have been common among many Carnon in life.

Organization:
As a bloodline, the Carnon have no real organization beyond their counterculture. In many domains, Carnon are simply one facet of the Circle of the Crone’s modern punk-pagan indie crowd. In other domains, where individual Bucks have won some adoration or notoriety, the Carnon may be the nucleus of cliques or coteries, the way a rock band is the anchor of an after-party.

In several domains, mostly those farther removed from the first Carnon bands, members of this bloodline have taken to regarding themselves as brothers. Even in cases where two Horned Gods are truly sire and childe, they may adopt big brother and little brother roles instead. Throughout the UK, this practice is implicit — just a matter of custom that goes without saying. In the American South, this practice is just as common but much more formalized — an Alabaman Carnon would probably find it offensive to be regarded as anything but the sibling of another Horned God.

Carnon often maintain close, if casual, ties with their bloodline brothers within a domain, even when every Carnon in the city is also a member of different coteries. Like brothers who get together for football and in-fighting, Bucks gather after weekly Acolyte rituals to touch base, trade stories and bust each other’s balls. Some Carnon cliques are closer than others, of course. Where two Carnon might be as devoted and loyal as true brothers, two others might squabble and undermine each other like rival frat brothers.

Concepts: Anti-Christian death-metal singer, body-modification artist, environmental terrorist, fear-mongering biker, free-loading emo lay-about, long-haired militant liberal, patchouli-smelling politico, Space Monkey.

The Childer of the Morrigan are the orphans of a vanished army. Where once they were generals and war-chiefs of the covenant, tonight they are mercenaries and advisors in service to segments of pagan power.

Or so the legends say. In truth, because the Circle of the Crone has never had the cohesion necessary to facilitate the formation of a great fi ghting force — and has never been willing to violate the Masquerade to such a degree — it’s doubtful that the Childer of the Morrigan were ever much more than respected advisors, wise warriors or cunning leaders. (As if such roles were not legendary in their own right.)

What seems to have changed for the Morrigans is the assumption of their necessity. No longer is the blood of a Stormcrow widely recognized as an essential component in the defense of the covenant. It has been a century since the Morrigan name was synonymous with great rank and, therefore, given respect and fear out of refl ex. Tonight, many Morrigans are cherished and praised as leaders, protectors and visionary warriors, but just as many are anonymous vigilantes and forgotten veterans of forgotten wars.

The Morrigans blame the changing notions of war in the modern night. Although, on the one hand, a single warrior is still seen as a viable and potent force in battle, a warrior is so often cherished less than a weapon these nights. Why go to the trouble of funding and housing a Morrigan for the domain when any cheap Hound can carry the very best weaponry against the enemy and is cheaper to replace besides?

The Kindred who say such things are short-sighted fools with no memory. The Childer of the Morrigan have swung swords in defense of the Circle of the Crone for three thousand years. The fi rst Morrigans were the warrior-queens of the covenant. They laid the foundation stones and raised up the tents under which persecuted pagan cults were unifi ed. The history of the Morrigans’ of the devotion and contribution to the Crone is sterling, tarnished only with age.

In the earliest nights of the covenant, the Childer of the Morrigan swore to defend it. Though stories of Kindred descended from the Morrigan go back beyond the founding of the covenant, it seems clear that this bloodline was formed on that night, when its blood was promised to the covenant for all time. Thus the Stormcrows became a part of the mortar holding the loose stones of the Circle together. Three unconnected, religiously distinct cults in a single city might not be able to agree on a name for the Crone, but they could agree to pay tribute to the Childer of the Morrigan to keep hostile vampires at bay.

But that was a long time ago.

Since then, the Morrigan have dwindled. By the Middle Ages, the notion of a whole coterie of Stormcrows residing in a single domain had become unrealistic. In place of three or four warriors to oversee Hounds and assist Sheriffs, average Acolyte domains kept a single Morrigan near the Prince and Primogen as the nucleus of a war council — a body of advisory vampires of which the Morrigan was just one member. The largest Acolyte territories boasted war councils populated entirely by Morrigans. These wise women advised Princes and Hierophants alike in the proper uses of violence and when the promise of violence was enough to secure victory. They were generals, but they were historians and poets, too. They didn’t just lead vampires to victory, they lead Kindred away from needless battles and toward precarious peaces.

But that, too, was long ago.

The number of Morrigans has dwindled in the face of more bloodlines vying for Kindred attention and the presence of more cities pulling Kindred factions apart. Tonight, the Childer of the Morrigan are as likely to reside as hermits on the edge of Acolyte society as they are at the side of a Hierophant. They are warrior-poets without wars to fi ght, supplanted by subtler power-plays and political back-stabbing. Acolyte cults, after centuries of religious change and mutated by decades of neopagan revisions, have grown further apart from each other. Tonight’s Circle of the Crone looks so little like that the first Morrigans swore to protect, but still their blood is bound to it.

But the covenant can never be wholly safe. The night when Acolytes need the Childer of the Morrigan again cannot be far off.

OPTIONAL BENEFIT:
INHERENT RITUAL POWER

At the Storyteller’s option, the Childer of the Morrigan may enjoy a special benefit as a result of their bloodline’s unique devotion to (and dependence on) the Circle of the Crone: Any Morrigan with ••• in Blood Potency and Covenant Status: Circle of the Crone • or higher may be allowed to purchase the ••• Crúac ritual Touch of the Morrigan, even if the Stormcrow has no dots in Crúac herself. The roll to activate this ritual is therefore simply Manipulation + Occult, with a cost of 1 Vitae as usual. If learned in this way, the ritual becomes an instant, rather than an extended, action to cast — however many successes the Morrigan earns on a single roll is what the ritual power deals in damage.

This power costs six experience points to learn in this way. If the Morrigan later learns Crúac ••• or higher, she must buy the ritual again if she wishes to cast it according to the usual method (and thereby gain the benefit of her Crúac dots in her activation dice pool).

If the Storyteller creates other bloodlines, he might offer a similar benefit to them, as well, allowing the purchase of another single Crúac or Theban Sorcery ritual that is closely linked with the bloodline’s theme and abilities. This benefit shouldn’t be given to bloodlines with unique Disciplines.

Covenant:
The Childer of the Morrigan have been dedicated followers of the Acolyte philosophy for thousands of years. Though some claim that their lineage predates the gathering of vampire cults into the covenant of the Crone, it is undeniable that the Stormcrows are a distinctly Acolyte tradition. Morrigans who are not members of the covenant are likely to be ostracized — or at least thought turncoats — by their kin.

That said, these warriors know that they must often serve multiple masters. Childer of the Morrigan who act on behalf of other covenants, or even accept a degree of membership in other ranks, may simply be seen as respected experts enjoying the benefits of their authority. If the Invictus can recognize the value of the Morrigans, then good for them. As long as a Stormcrow remembers where her spiritual loyalty lies — to the Morrigan — all may be well.

Stormcrows become unaligned vampires with surprising frequency, however. When the covenant’s political or practical aims diverge too far from those of the Stormcrow (or her matron war god), the best she can do oppose her mother covenant is to cut her support of it. A Stormcrow who turns against the covenant her ancestors fought to forge is the worst sort of betrayer… as long as her enemies within the covenant remain in power. All may be rewritten by a victorious Morrigan after the battle is won.

Appearance:
Although men and women, young and old, have become Childer of the Morrigan throughout history, it’s a matter of fact that, tonight, white women over the age of forty are the archetypal Morrigans. Many of these warrior-witches led painfully mundane lives before the Embrace, coming to love the thrill of conflict only after their bodies died. Thus many Morrigans do not have physiques that match their true physicality — or their philosophy.

Morrigans seldom dress like “warriors,” whatever that means tonight .

Rather, they dress to impress, often combining simple elegance and sturdy functionality. Many fights can be overcome by preempting them with a display of confidence and poise. Morrigans excel at this.

Common modern dress for Stormcrows combines comfortable jeans and attention-getting T-shirts with fur-hooded military parkas, or pairs simple slip-like dresses with oversized feathered jackets. Large outerwear increases the Morrigan’s perceived presence in the room and gets in an enemy’s way in a fight, but it can all be shed easily if need be. Just like a Morrigan’s calm demeanor. Raven imagery is popular with Morrigans trying to attract attention. Black, feather-rimmed jackets are common tonight, painted wings on leather jackets or army coats have been traditional within the covenant and the bloodline since the ’60s. Black-blotted eyes, black nails and feather-themed jewelry is popular among the Stormcrows.

Haven:
Morrigans maintain havens as distinctive as their individual personalities. In general, personal comfort is not a major concern for these vampires, though Morrigans who consider themselves the childer of the Great Queen are liable to act like princesses. The majority of Morrigans who are able use the power of Protean (••) to make their havens in soil, rock or even water.

This isn’t to say they shirk the benefits of modern protection that Kindred may enjoy. But a Morrigan’s protection can take many forms. Remote, difficult to reach havens in industrial parks, forest preserves and local ruins discourage random visitors. Colder, wetter or generally harsher sites can tire out or frustrate many would-be vampire-hunters as they make their approach — every little edge helps. Whenever possible, a Morrigan’s haven should require an approach on foot, to prevent the sudden arrival of screeching enemy SUVs; even a short hike can go a long way towards discouraging searchers.

Obviously, Morrigans are more concerned with Haven Security than Haven Location. For these vampires, security means false doors, ghoulish raven sentries and sturdy doors with high-quality padlocks. A barred concrete shed with a thick layer of cold black dirt on its floor is an ideal nest for a Stormcrow.

Background:
Though somewhere along the line the archetypal image of a Morrigan became that of a tough middle-aged warrior woman, the truth is that Stormcrows come from all ages of mortals. Likewise, contrary the ignorant notion that Morrigans are man-hating lesbian feministas, most Morrigans seem to be old-fashioned providers and protectors, part iron-fisted mother and part femme fatale. As many Morrigans were soft-skinned, shy bookworms in life as were weight-lifting power jocks.

For many of the Childer of the Morrigan, the idea of a harder demeanor and a more severe existence only becomes appealing after the social checklists of mortal life are relieved. Without all the bullshit that comes with a mortal life — job pressures, family issues, relationships, sex, money — a new Morrigan finds the razor-sharp simplicity of faith and ferocity attractive. For some, the appeal of the Morrigan’s Requiem is as simple as the appeal of change. The vampire is no longer the living woman she used to be, so why shouldn’t she try something new?

That said, there is no shortage of butch soldiers in the ranks of the Stormcrows. They simply aren’t the majority that some vampire jokers claim they are. In fact, the inherent change in the blood that comes from adopting the Morrigan bloodline may even be more appealing for those vampires for whom the transformation is more drastic. A former marine turned Acolyte has little need to tap into the Morrigan myth to think of herself as a soldier, but the churchgoing soccer mom turned Savage may want to commit to her new existence by becoming a Stormcrow.

As with several other Acolyte bloodlines, the Childer of the Morrigan are not strictly closed to vampires of either gender. Many Morrigans find the idea that their patron goddess would forbid herself to have sons to be absurd, but others maintain that the bloodline is meant to symbolically uphold the role of the goddess as the Great Queen and warrior-woman, which males simply can’t do. Thus in some domains all Morrigans are female due to unspoken assumptions and in others all are female out of tradition (or sexist custom), but several so-called Sons of the Morrigan can be found throughout the lands to which this bloodline has spread.

Character Creation:
Because so many Childer of the Morrigan weren’t raised to be warriors, they do not often begin their Requiems with traits that match bloodline stereotypes. Morrigans are a varied lot. By the time most would-be Stormcrows enter into the bloodline, however, they have had years (if not centuries) of undeath to learn Skills and hone Attributes more in line with their new roles.

Morrigans seldom put much importance on Firearms, whether out of a ceremonial appreciation for traditional weaponry or out of a practical desire to do more damage to undead foes. Crúac is regarded by some Morrigans as witches’ work, not the business of warriors, but others see it as just another weapon.

When a Morrigan learns Protean •••• (or when a Gangrel with that power becomes a Morrigan), her bat-form is replaced with that of a carrion-crow. The traits of this form are identical to those of the bat form, except that bonus dice apply to scent rather than hearing. With the Storyteller’s permission, a Stormcrow may spend three experience points to gain (or regain) access to the more traditional bat form bestowed by the Shape of the Beast power.

Organization:
The organization of the Childer of the Morrigan has collapsed along with their prestige. Their war councils are largely things of the past. It’s rare now when Stormcrows gather in groups larger than pairs or trios within a single domain — sisters, sires or coterie-mates.

The majority of Stormcrows tonight are solitary women without childer or fellow vampires in their bloodline. That is, they are crones, waiting and hoping that some bold young warrior will seek them out for tutelage and make a commitment to the Morrigan’s lineage.

In the meantime, the Childer of the Morrigan serve their covenant as if it were their church. Many serve their Prince or Hierophant as if she were their queen. They are lonely (but not necessarily independent) warrior-women bravely patrolling the edges of Kindred society, where the orange glow of the streetlights turns into darkness, defending the domain against mortals and monsters. Without a war to fight, without devoted followers to lead against an enemy, however, they sulk and sigh in the dark, uncertain what to do with themselves.

Concepts: Battle maiden, blood-worshipping corporate warlord, cold-blooded marine, general in Hecate’s army, Hierophant by the sword, modern-night Joan of Arc, romantic warrior-poet, self-styled black-leather hoplite.

In some parts of the world, people who commit suicide are said to come back as vampires. This legend may have some connection to the bloodline called the Children of Judas. Where the Children of Judas dwell, suicides increase — and some of these suicides become Children of Judas themselves.

Many Kindred hate and fear the so-called Suicide Kings. A cynic might suggest the Kindred hate and fear most other Kindred, but the Children of Judas endure extra suspicion. The Suicide Kings bring the siren call of self-destruction to other vampires as well as mortals. Perhaps this bloodline receives too much blame: Kindred can feel horror, remorse and despair without any help. The Damned may not want to admit how many of them choose suicide. When their fellows destroy themselves, it’s more comforting to blame an outside force than to suggest they had reason for such self-loathing.

The Children of Judas emerge from the Daeva clan. The Succubi slake their own desires by arousing the desires of others. The Suicide Kings gain the power to arouse the darkest, most enigmatic and perverse desire of all.

No one’s sure when the Children of Judas originated. The legend connecting vampires with suicide dates back to antiquity. Despite the bloodline’s name, however, members do not claim that their lineage began with Judas Iscariot, the disciple who betrayed Christ. Rather, they see a spiritual connection to the traitor disciple: Judas destroyed what he should have loved most, and killed himself in remorse. Many Children of Judas feel they, too, have betrayed what they love and destroyed themselves. They know all Kindred eventually must feel this self-hate as well.

The bloodline calls its alleged founder the Hanged Man. As a mortal, the Hanged Man supposedly lived in the Balkans during the late Middle Ages. The story goes that the Hanged Man was a vampire-hunter. After he retired, a vengeful vampire massacred the vampire-hunter’s family, then Embraced the hunter when he tried to hang himself in grief. The Hanged Man pursued his sire for decades before destroying her, then joined the Lancea Sanctum for an unlife of penance and renewed service to God. He is said to have destroyed himself in the 18th century, in an attempt at martyrdom.

Over the centuries, the Hanged Man sired a number of childer who sired childer of their own. The bloodline also adopted a number of Daeva who fell prey to self-disgust or who wished to add the Children of Judas’ power of Despond to their cruel schemes. One legend of the bloodline, however, says that Suicide Kings may arise spontaneously. If a Daeva Embraces a mortal who’s dying from an attempt at suicide, the childe supposedly bears the Judas taint and shall inevitably make the transition to the bloodline without any help. Some Kindred loremasters believe the Hanged Man was merely a noteworthy case of such spontaneous emergence, in a bloodline that may be as old as the Kindred themselves.

Covenant:
Children of Judas join the Lancea Sanctum in greater numbers than any other covenant. The bloodline’s reputed founder joined that covenant, and the Suicide Kings certainly excel at leading Kindred and kine to sorrow and contrition. A significant fraction of Suicide Kings join the Invictus, however, to skulk among that covenant’s large Daeva contingent. The doctrines of the Carthians, Acolytes and Dragons rarely hold special interest for the Children of Judas, and those covenants show little special interest in recruiting these Kindred.

A higher percentage of the Children of Judas prefer to remain unaligned than is usual for Daeva — especially among Suicide Kings whose lineage is known to other Kindred. The hoary vampires who lead the covenants may see a Child of Judas as a useful ally, but younger Kindred tend to fear the heralds of despair. Neonates and ancillae often hint to a known Suicide King that she might be happier in another covenant, preferably one in another city. The youngsters have not yet accepted that despair is both an intrinsic part of the Kindred’s curse and perhaps their only solace. These youngsters also do not realize that happiness may not be a Child of Judas’ goal.

Appearance:
Many Children of Judas share the attractive and stylish appearance the Kindred associate with Daeva. The bloodline’s habitual Embrace of suicides, however, forces the Children of Judas to draw from a more finite and less beautiful sample of the mortal population. Thus, many Suicide Kings (or Daeva who could potentially join the bloodline) look quite ordinary — though they may improve their appearance as much as possible through makeup, personal grooming and stylish clothing.

Haven:
Children of Judas, just as other Daeva, often design their havens to indulge their sensual appetites and lure their prey. The Suicide Kings’ obsession with sorrow and despair, however, may lead to odd touches: anything from a floor-to-ceiling print of Munch’s “The Scream,” to the polished skull of the Judas’ first kill sitting on the mantelpiece.

A Child of Judas who attempted suicide as a mortal often keeps reminders of his search for self-destruction. For instance, one Suicide King might keep coils of rope in his closet, while another Judas might have a medicine cabinet stuffed with bottles of sleeping pills. A third Judas might keep a selection of small, sharp knives on a tray next to her bathtub.

Background:
Similar to other Daeva, Children of Judas are drawn to the beautiful, the cultured and the elegant. The Children of Judas feel just as strong an attraction, however, for the desperate, the grieving and the self-loathing. From the widow who can’t imagine life without her husband to the PCP-addled thug who waves a gun at the cops, the pain of the desperate and grieving draws the Children of Judas like flies to rotting meat. And, if a Child of Judas should witness someone actually attempting suicide — why, the compulsion to Embrace becomes terribly strong. The Suicide Kings, therefore, come from every level of society. They may have any mortal age from teens to senior citizens. Both genders and all races are well represented.

Character Creation:
As a true cross-section of humanity, Children of Judas may have any balance of Attributes and Skills. After the Embrace, however, they often try to develop their Social Attributes, Skills and Merits so they can play the predatory games of seduction their Daeva appetites demand. Nascent Children of Judas often seem like second-best Succubi, preying on mortals who seem particularly vulnerable to emotional manipulation.

Organization:
The mortal Slavs of south-eastern Europe have a legend about vampires called Children of Judas, so other Kindred presume the bloodline remains most numerous in that region. However, Suicide Kings are found wherever mortals feel despair. The Children of Judas seldom congregate in numbers larger than three or four. Indeed, more Children of Judas than that could cause such a rise in the suicide rate that mortals could not help but notice. At least, that’s what many Kindred believe. So many Suicide Kings pretend to be ordinary Daeva that their numbers are hard to estimate, even for them.

One of the more widespread and persistent rumors about the Children of Judas says their founder faked his destruction, but actually left the Lancea Sanctum to join the secret society called VII. According to this rumor, the line’s founder sired a secret lineage of Children of Judas who all pose as ordinary Daeva. These undercover Children of Judas use their powers to drive other Kindred to self-destruction. Of course, no one has any evidence that such a secret lineage exists, and even the existence of VII is half-rumor. When Kindred who seem secure and content with their lot suddenly decide to meet the sun, though, it’s common for a few Kindred to bring up tales of hidden Suicide Kings.

Concepts: Abandoned spouse, dentist, desperate housewife, disgraced cop, downsized executive, grief counselor, hospice caretaker, old person who didn’t want to be a burden to her children, petty crook, picked-on teen, prostitute

Family unity is a strange concept in the minds of most Kindred. Between the passage of time and the Machiavellian schemes of rivals, mortal relations become a liability, merely a torturous reminder of a vampire’s breathing days, if he is lucky. Some Kindred, however, find comfort of sorts in the limited trust and familiarity that close relatives in blood are more apt to demonstrate than other Kindred — who simply share the same general characteristics determined by clan. Sires usually have a driving purpose behind a vampire’s Embrace, and childer can provide a backdoor to an enemy, should the childe become neglected or antagonized. The Corajoso not only found value in the relationships within any given vampire’s lineage, but they capitalized upon it.

As the post-Crusades European nations sought to expand their capacity for trade with the Orient and explore the new lands they discovered in the process, the Kindred who existed among them risked their unlives for the prestige of discovering or founding vampire domains across the world. The Corajoso bloodline discovered that one of the primary difficulties in traveling the vast distances across the seas, whether the destination was to an established civilization or into the frightening unknown world, was the lack of communication and the substantial delay in the exchange of information. In many cases, even the most basic bit of knowledge sent to the correct individual could prevent future catastrophe or spur immediate aid… if only it could get there in time. With the relative unity of the Kindred of the Corajoso, their network stretched across the globe, allowing members of this bloodline to coordinate their actions through the mystical ties of blood and their unique expertise in the arts of the Linagem. Being a brood of Lords, however, ensured that there was certainly madness to this method. The bloodline was, after all, formed in order to ensure a legacy for the line’s progenitor.

History and Culture: Throughout the 12th and 13th centuries, Portugal struggled to find stability in its own independence and identity. So, too, did a brood of Kindred spread throughout the regions of Portugal and Galicia (now part of Spain) to the north. The chaos of the tumultuous transitions in Kindred power across Europe combined with the constant bloody conflict with the Moors throughout the southern Iberian Peninsula. A Ventrue named Afanso had solidified a domain that, when combined with the domains of his two childer, encompassed much of northern Portugal and southern Galicia. As the Crusades came to a close, Kindred of Castille and Aragon organized themselves and pressured Afanso to fall in line with their iron-fisted rule. The elders knew his weakness; Afanso held a particularly strong affinity for the tiny nation and its peoples. When he refused to offer tribute, a strategically placed village would suddenly be missing most of its young men, or a fire would strike the home of an important noble. Before long, urged by his childer, Afanso submitted to the myriad of rules, tributes, and other demands placed upon his “sovereignty.”

Brave Origins

Late in the 13th century, Afanso vanished. His childer set adrift without his guidance and his lands open to any Kindred insurgent, he simply disappeared without warning or reason. Many of his superiors and adversaries throughout Castille and Aragon (then beginning to solidify into Spain) assumed that he had been driven into torpor by one of their own. Afanso’s childer tried to lash out at the powerful network of vampires descending upon Portugal, but had no long-term success. Alfonso’s fate was not what everyone assumed, however. During his decade of absence, Afanso had struck deals with mystics among the Moorish Kindred still resisting expulsion to Africa. In return for a future of relative safety in his domain, the strange Kindred among the Moors taught him secrets necessary to put his plans into motion.

After Afanso returned to Portugal, his childer and their handful of childer quickly followed his lead. They did not attempt to regain their lost domains. They found a new purpose and plan for the future. Professing strength in unity, Afanso urged his brood into the arduous process of retaking their homeland — bypassing the traditional methods of influence and prestige. As fate would have it, the royalty of Portugal involved the nation in a series of naval expeditions that pushed Europe into an era of exploring unknown seas and discovering unknown lands. The new techniques of the Vitae Afanso had taught his childer suited this era perfectly. He considered himself blessed — divine, even.

Throughout the following few centuries, the Corajoso thrived. Stowed away in ships’ cargo holds, masquerading as nobles and merchants, and taking on the role of intrepid explorers, the Telepaths spread across the world. They initially focused on the efforts of the Portuguese Empire, but they quickly latched on to the successes and results of other European nations as well. A disproportionate number of this bloodline worked among the Kindred who established new domains. Others sought out vampires of the newly discovered cultures, hoping to broker their secrets to the world (those secrets they did not hoard for themselves). The subtle arts of Linagem assisted them in ways that amazed other Kindred and roused deep suspicions, as well. Indeed, those secrets virtually ensured that the bloodline’s progenitor would indeed receive his legacy… and the consequences of the debt he had failed to fulfill.

Hubris Takes Hold

A bloodline of vampires capable of peering into others’ minds is especially untrustworthy, particularly among Kindred. As the Corajoso elders grew in power, they were faced with the problems of cementing their individual legacies while at the same time keeping their childer (and themselves) from Final Death at the hands of other, understandably fearful, Kindred.

Greed, paranoia and fear motivated the eldest of the Corajoso. Each one of them harbored the terrifying awareness that their record of stealing the carefully hidden histories and secrets of other vampires would return to haunt them. The youngest continued to carry on with personal schemes and goals. However, those who had at one time held a closer connection to their founder turned towards the darker side of Linagem in order to protect themselves. Finding difficulty functioning in the ever-growing courts of Kindred society, they focused on the younger and more easily manipulated descendants of their own blood. With greater skill in the bloodline’s unique talent came an even greater affinity for the Lords’ ability to cloud and control the minds of their own childer, grandchilder, and occasionally those of even more distant blood relations.

At least as vicious and controlling as any other group of elder vampires, Corajoso ancients carefully arranged their pawns and more valuable pieces across the world and nudged them into roles suitable for the various elders’ plans and defenses. The ancillae and neonates geographically closest to their elders (whether those younger Kindred were aware of the fact or not) suffered the most diabolical acts of the bloodline. The masters of Linagem had resorted to using various methods of mind-control upon their younger descendants, forcing them to succumb to the Vinculum. On many occasions, the thralls continued such an existence without any memory of taking the Blood Oath.

Irony Divides

Were it not for the eventual necessity of torpor, this bloodline may have completely devolved into an incestuous breeding stock of withdrawn, paranoid monsters. Over time, however, various elders have been lost to the Fog of Eternity or to other more tangible foes. Some of the younger members of the line found freedom from their invisible chains and once again ventured out on their own voyages of discovery. As part of their intricate systems of control and continued shackling of the younger generations, many of the Corajoso kept a variety of Requiem Diaries, scattered clues, and hidden methods of communicating with other elders in their “secret dynasty.” Irony certainly finds a home in the domains of Kindred. The younger and newly liberated Telepaths now make use of those elders’ relics.

The Corajoso have become a bloodline of two widely varied philosophies. Most of the ancient Kindred of the line hold on to the older values; they use complex schemes of control and manipulation to hide from and defend against the enemies who they have accumulated over the ages. In turn, many of the younger Corajoso have taken the more offensive road. They endeavor to free those who have fallen under the control of their ancestors and scour the world for clues to their own history and their predecessors’ host of enemies.

The Corajoso have found homes in every covenant. Most of the older members of the bloodline hide within and function from positions of power inside the Invictus and, to a lesser extent, the Lancea Sanctum. Tradition, ritual and the relative monotony of those covenants suit the elders’ need to be vigilantly aware of their peers. On the other hand, most of the younger Corajoso turn to the Carthian Movement and occasionally to the Ordo Dracul. Aware of the value of the status quo the elders seemingly require, Telepaths among the Carthians take part in some of the most chaotic factions of the covenant. Modern concepts and tonight’s fluid society tend to be the greatest weapons in freeing others from the elder Corajoso shackles. The rare younger Telepath who does not feel a particular calling or obligation to “fix” the sins of their fathers tends to dive into the mystery of where their unique nature comes from and just why it has evolved into such a potent weapon. The Dragons are commonly the only vehicle suitable for exploring such questions.

Regardless of age or place in Kindred society, the Telepaths’ talents and curses force them into certain roles. Most tend to be loners. Those who insist on taking part in a more crowded floor of the Danse Macabre tend to lead other Kindred through force and intimidation. Typically, individuals are Embraced into the bloodline because of their fearlessness, because they are visionaries of sorts, or due to their specific skills and experience in uncovering the hidden. Survivalists, private investigators and scientific explorers could easily find themselves brought into the ranks by younger Telepaths. Older Corajoso, by contrast, typically came from the strata of the wealthy nobles, influential clergy, and from the ranks of knowledgeable members of specifically useful cultures encountered during initial explorations of the “new” world.

Reputation: Publicly, the Telepaths are widely distrusted. In addition to snippets of real knowledge that some Kindred might know about them, a number of rumors fly about as well. In domains where Corajoso vampires are known to dwell, one might hear tales of mass mind-reading, gained knowledge through diablerie, and insidious bloody rites of divination. Most Kindred in positions of power expel the suspect from the city immediately, but some call for more drastic measures. Telepaths have been tortured and coerced into sharing accumulated knowledge. Others have suffered destruction at the hands of princes demanding information that these Kindred are not omniscient enough to obtain. Especially paranoid princes order any Corajoso vampires within their domains slaughtered.

Individuals, however, are far more curious about the Corajoso. Handfuls of brave Kindred seek out members of this bloodline. Some of these vampires offer a variety of payments in exchange for information the Corajoso might possess or be able to discover about their rivals. Most of the time, the Telepaths tend to shy away from such contracts; digging up a vampire’s secrets usually attracts more trouble than simple payments or favors are worth. On other occasions, Kindred employ one of the Corajoso for finding lost sires or missing members of their coterie. Even this can be dangerous; Kindred do not take kindly to being found if they don’t have the desire to deal with old contacts.

Concepts: Kindred genealogist, charlatan psychic, explorer of the urban jungle, sinister psychologist, dilettante, vampiric profiler, surreptitious blood-bonder, Age of Exploration apologist, stalking horse, werewolf photographer

Dorján has acted as Avus to his brood of Mekhet and their own fledglings, who now act as Regents over their own personal fiefs within Budapest, slowly becoming one with their territories. Curiously, the bloodline is so tied to Blood sympathy that it can be taught only to Kindred within two “relation” steps of the Avus: Dorján was able to teach his childer, whom he sired before creating the bloodline, to change their blood in the proper way, but he cannot teach it to an unrelated Mekhet. As such, the Család are confined to Hungary with the few who have left Budapest making their Fiefs in other cities of the region.

History and Culture:
Limited to the members of one family of Mekhet, the Család organize their overlapping domains as a microcosm of Kindred society with individuals deferring to older members of the bloodline. As an example, the vampire known as Janos holds the territory Dorján once held as Primogen in the “Bloody Meadow” district of Buda, despite that being within both his own sire’s territory and Dorján’s. Feeling crowded, some of the members of the family have made the journey out into Hungary and neighboring countries, where they have come into contact with other bloodlines of the region. Budapest is the largest city in the region, which suits these emigrants fine: in the smaller cities and towns they have only one or two other vampires with whom to contend, and many have entered into mutually-beneficial alliances with the native kindred.

Reputation:
Among the Ordo Dracul, the Család are an afterthought, though a deadly one on their home turf. None have made as much of an impression upon the Covenant as their Avus, so Lithopedia is noted as being “his” Discipline, not “theirs.” The rival Architects of the Monolith bloodline does not have the limitation on creating new members that the Család have, so has taken what it sees as its rightful niche except in Hungary. The bloodline has especially good relations with the Morotrophians, whom it regards as cousins in method.

The fates of vampires and werewolves in Mexico have always been tangled. Whereas, in some lands, the Kindred and the Uratha maintain a cold separation from one another, here they are likely to be allies as enemies. Perhaps nothing represents the centuries of cultural contact between the Forsaken and the Damned better than the Wolves of Blood.

The story of the first so-called Dead Wolf is well known by werewolves and vampires of Mexico. But this story does nothing to explain the metaphysical circumstances of the bloodline’s creation.

According to legend, the first Dead Wolf was a young man named Juan Colmillo, who lived in Northern Mexico around the time of the Mexican-American War (1846–48). Colmillo was born a werewolf, but before his First Change he was Embraced by a Gangrel vampire hunting displaced families in the Texas territory. Just why this Gangrel damned Colmillo varies depending on who’s telling the story — some say Colmillo was planning to take his family to Texas and start new lives as Americans, others say Colmillo’s wife had once been the Gangrel’s wife when he was alive. Most stories agree, though, that Colmillo was made immortal so that he could witness America’s eventual suffering and defeat on its Mexican border.

Heartbroken over Colmillo’s fate, one his werewolf cousins came to him in the night and tried to undo the vampire’s curse. The werewolf bit him, stuck him with silver and even gave Colmillo some of his blood in an effort to rouse his primal rage to overthrow his vampiric blood. Desperate to save his cousin, the werewolf provoked Colmillo into a bestial frenzy in the light of a full moon, hoping that Colmillo’s inner wolf would slay his vampiric Beast. Instead, says the legend, Colmillo killed the werewolf and drank him to dust.

Colmillo was never the same . Though nothing could free him from the damnation of the Requiem, his blood did change to reflect his familial connection to Father Wolf and Mother Moon. The Dead Wolves bloodline was born that night, with the death of one werewolf for the sake of his fallen kin.

What truth there is in this story is questionable. The vampire called Juan Colmillo was destroyed by a French wizard in the 1860s, though even that may just be a continuation of the legend. Some Dead Wolves do remember Juan Colmillo personally, though none can say for sure if that was ever a real name. (Colmillo means, roughly, “canine tooth.”)

The Colmillo legend seems to be a parable illustrating how werewolves should be willing to give their lives for the sake of the Damned and how vampires should be willing to adapt to make peace with their cousins, the Uratha. The legend is also held up by many diplomatic Uratha as a reminder that the Kindred are not necessarily, in their nature, blood-sucking monsters. Many of them were in the midst of other lives when they met with damnation, and many of them did not ask for it. Werewolves should consider each vampire as an individual, not as a breed.

As for the purpose of Colmillo’s damnation, many Indian and mesitzo Forsaken and Kindred maintain that the Gangrel’s prophecy has not yet come to pass. America will suffer ruin along its border with Mexico — a ruination that will benefit the Mexica and their descendants. Juan Colmillo may not have survived to witness that night, but his blood continues on so that one night some Wolf of Blood will do what Colmillo was damned to do: witness the end of Texas.

Nickname: Bloody Wolves, Wolves of Blood, Wolf-Blooded. The confusing similarity between the Wolves of Blood and the wolf-blooded mortal relatives of the Uratha is the subject of jokes, but it’s also meant as a reminder that the Kindred of this bloodline are honoring the spirit of Juan Colmillo, who truly was wolf-blooded.

Covenant: Modern Dead Wolves can be found in virtually any covenant, though few reach meaningful levels of authority in any. Wolves of Blood are more likely to serve a Kindred Prince as Hounds or Heralds, carrying their laws or their words to the Uratha and to rural, unaligned vampires. Because of their animistic beliefs, Dead Wolves often get lumped in with the Circle of the Crone, even though this bloodline’s spiritual beliefs have less to do with any religious philosophy and more to do with nightly business. Sanctified Dead Wolves are not uncommon. When possible, Dead Wolves attach themselves to Kindred society through the de facto hierarchy of the court, rather than picking sides between political covenants. These vampires have enough to balance between their werewolf and vampire allegiances; they don’t need to be dragged into Carthian/Invictus schemes, too.

Appearance: These rustic, rough vampires care little for their appearance to modern mortals. Many are the kinds of wild-haired, long-bearded, howl-at-the-moon madmen that local folks mistake for drunken, delirious lunatics. Most Wolf-Bloods dwell in the dust and dirt of rural, northern Mexico and look like it. They wear worn denim, scarred leather jackets and flannel shirts, except for those Wolf-Bloods who predate such things, and sport simpler clothes that appeal to their dated, fur-trapper sensibilities. Since so many modern vampires in the Wolves of Blood family are also thugs for local Princes, shotguns, axes and mining picks are often in hand.

Haven: Few Dead Wolves maintain havens of any significance. Through the powers of Protean, they dwell in sand and soil, concrete and water. Dead Wolves who maintain tight relationships with a werewolf pack may nest near the pack’s totem or private den, though its unusual for even a Wolf of Blood to sleep under the same roof as an Uratha cohort. Most Dead Wolves do reside within friendly werewolf territory, though, where they can expect a certain amount of informed awareness during daylight hours. Having a ghoul watch your nest in the daytime is one thing, but having a battle-ready werewolf shaman patrolling nearby is a whole other thing.

Background: Dead Wolves come to the bloodline through a connection of some kind to the Uratha, whether that connection was formed before or after the Embrace. Most Dead Wolves are therefore the kinds of people who can relate to werewolf concerns like territoriality, spiritualism and the resonant consequences of everyday actions. It happens to be true that most Dead Wolves are either Nahua or mestizos from central or Northern Mexico, but quite a few white Gangrel from Texas and Arizona have come to the bloodline in the past forty years, too.

Character Creation: Despite their close ties to both Kindred and Forsaken societies, Dead Wolves need to be self-sufficient. The Survival Skill is important, as is Stamina and as many dots in Disciplines as you can muster — it’s often the shared exposure to the world’s frightening strangeness that helps Dead Wolves and werewolves bond. A Wolf of Blood needs to have something to offer to local Uratha if he wants to be more than acquaintances. Uniquely vampiric powers are one option. Contacts, Allies, Resources and valuable Skills are just a few other options.

Organization: As a bloodline, the Wolves of Blood have no real organization of their own. They plug into vampire and werewolf societies rather than create their own. Still, one long-standing tradition persists through Dead Wolf culture. Any Dead Wolf may welcome another vampire into the bloodline if that vampire can get a werewolf to vouch for him three times, on three different nights of a full moon in three different months. Only after a single Uratha has vouched for a petitioner three times will a Dead Wolf welcome the new vampire into the bloodline and vouch for him to other werewolves.

Concepts: Embraced wolf-blooded kin, Envoy to the Lupines, Kindred overseer in the pack, Lupine-hunter, vampire bounty-hunter, would-be Uratha Embraced before the First Change.

The Deucalion bloodline simmers with rage. Interacting with other Kindred, necessary for night-to-night existence and especially important among the Carthian Movement, frustrates and infuriates them.

They are stone while all others are clay. They might not all be perfect, but they are unflawed, as least as far as Kindred go. While all other clans and bloodlines carry some sort of weakness, some imperfection that makes them ugly, stupid or weak, the Deucaliones have only themselves and not their Blood to blame when they fail.

Of course, they usually have to keep these attitudes to themselves. It might be true that the horrific Nosferatu acting as Prince of a domain is worthless, because she cannot even hunt without revealing herself to any mortal who might be watching, but if her Embrace antedates that of the Deucalion’s by a half-century then insults are unwise. The Deucalion bloodline isn’t good at being patient, but it must be. So the Deucaliones save their vitriol for the targets they can afford to attack — younger Kindred, ghouls and mortal pawns. Just as Americans once felt that one black relative was enough to consider a person “black,” the Deucaliones feel that the touch of tainted blood is enough to pass on the weakness.

History of the Deucaliones

The Deucaliones are a young bloodline, formed sometime within the last 50 years. The founder, a Ventrue named Victor Spanos, was Embraced during a period of high immigration in New York. Greek by ancestry but American by birth, he watched as Italians, Irish, Greeks and others tried to mix into the “melting pot” of the city. He decided, though, that the “melting pot” was more a bowl of marbles than anything else. The people didn’t melt, didn’t change and didn’t allow themselves to be changed. They clung to their ways, their foibles and their weaknesses. Victor decided that America, despite her flaws, was superior because she had left behind the weaknesses of the Old Country. Victor, in the years leading up to his Embrace, was a constant force against immigrants’ rights unless they learned American English (without accent), could work in America and didn’t ask for silly things like Catholic or Greek Orthodox holidays. “They have freedom of religion,” he said, “but I shouldn’t lose money because of it.”

Victor’s sire was a member of the Invictus who wanted the fiery young man’s connections to various businesses in the city. After the Embrace, though, Victor threw himself headlong into the Requiem. He severed ties with the mortals who knew him (killing them, in some cases), liquidated his accounts, arranged circumstances so that he was declared dead and began learning all he could about the clans and the covenants. His sire, disgusted, declared Victor’s Embrace a mistake that he would correct, but Victor had already made arrangements. Just under a year after his Embrace, he was on a train heading west.

Where ?

Victor began his unlife in New York and from there headed west — and that’s about as specific as it’s going to get. The Deucalion bloodline is prevalent in several American cities, but it’s not really necessary to nail down which ones here. (In your chronicle, of course, one of those cities can be the one your coterie resides in and the surrounding ones, if you wish to incorporate the bloodline.)

Nothing says that Victor necessarily needed to start in New York, of course. London has its own issues with immigration, and Victor could easily have fled to mainland Europe. Use whatever locales work for your chronicle, and tweak the bloodline’s particulars as necessary.

Impurity

Victor had been an avid student of vampirism since the first night of his Embrace. Although not particularly interested in mythology or esoteric lore in life, the notion that vampires had hunted humanity for centuries intrigued him, and he dug into the history of his former people with vigor, trying to find the “cracks” in the Masquerade. History, he found, wasn’t a good source, because so much of it had been sanitized and rewritten to match expectations, one of which was that vampires didn’t exist. Victor turned instead to mythology, focusing on the rich lore of ancient Greece.

At the same time, he was trying to find his feet among the Kindred. He had no real interest in joining the Invictus, and the two religious covenants conflicted with his secular view of the world. The Ordo Dracul seemed like a natural fit, and when he arrived in his new home he immediately petitioned to join these scholars. He never gained much status, however, because, whereas most Dragons were interested in studying the occult to further their own understanding of the Coils of the Dragon, Victor was interested in knowledge for his own sake and had no particular desire to “transcend” anything. What’s more, as he researched mythology and observed the Kindred around him, he came to a very familiar (for him) conclusion: certain types of vampires were weaker by nature, whereas he and vampires like him were without this inherent weakness.

The Ventrue, he decided, were without intrinsic flaws. The Nosferatu were obvious monsters — fine if one wished to terrorize fairy-tale children, but not conducive to a modern Requiem. The Gangrel could not think rationally, at least not predictably, and this kind of chaotic thought process made them dangerous to rely upon. The Daeva were slaves to their base impulses, and Victor saw that this led to the Daeva either degenerating into madness or becoming mentally exhausted in short order. The Mekhet, of course, had even less tolerance for light than most Kindred. (Victor considered the Mekhet the least of the Kindred, but his disdain was tempered with fear and jealousy over their ability to read minds.)

Above all the clans, though, stood the Ventrue. Victor perceived talk of the Lords being predisposed toward madness as motivated by jealousy and speculation — any vampire might go mad with the weight of years and sin, after all. In his mythological studies, Victor came across the story of Deucalion, the descendant of Prometheus who was one of the last survivors after Zeus flooded the world. Deucalion consulted the Oracle of Themis for advice on how to repopulate the Earth, and was told to throw stones over his shoulder. A race of people sprang up behind him, made from stone (rather than the original inhabitants of the world, who had been made from clay and were thus not strong enough to withstand the sins released from Pandora’s box).

This fable sparked something in Victor. He believed that he had found a representation of the Ventrue in the myth. The other clans were made from clay, but his clan was of stone, strong enough to resist sunlight, fire and sin and rise above all other Kindred. Other vampires were impure, by no one’s fault but the blood they bore. Victor wrote up a long, accusatory treatise “proving” that the Ventrue should hold power in every city, though other, “impure” clans would be allowed to hold offices at the Ventrue’s sufferance. He presented this treatise to his superiors in the Order, sure that it would finally be his ticket out of the lower ranks. He wasn’t entirely prepared for the result.

The Carthian Movement

The Dragons in Victor’s new city read his proposal and immediately expelled him. “What you should, but probably won’t, understand, Slave Victor,” one of them wrote to him, “is that we are not expelling you from the Order because you are wrong, though you most assuredly are. We are expelling you because you are a failure as a scientist, because you see only what confirms what you have always believed. There are other covenants for Kindred like you, Kindred who refuse to let the world change them.”

Victor read the comments to his treatise and came to the conclusion that he had been wrong to show it to them. Not because he was mistaken, of course, but simply because he couldn’t expect them to accept it. Would old and powerful Kindred acknowledge the truths that he had realized? Of course not, for Victor was not far from his Embrace. He was fighting a battle that would not only prove unpopular with four-fifths of the Kindred in existence, but that also required elders to take the word of a neonate. He therefore decided that his former superior’s suggestion of seeking a covenant better suited to his temperament was a good idea, but he needed a covenant that would listen to the words of a young vampire. In the Carthian Movement, he found a home.

Mission and Position: Deucaliones

Victor evangelized his “Deucalion” mission immediately upon joining the Carthian Movement. Of course, most of the Carthians in the city promptly refused to speak to him again. Some, though (mostly, though not entirely, Ventrue), found his notions intriguing.

Victor’s position, simply put, was that clan Ventrue was inherently unflawed, but that individual members of the clan still made mistakes and possessed character and moral failings. (Victor himself magnanimously admitted to being somewhat conceited, in perhaps the greatest understatement the city’s Kindred had ever heard.) Other clans were inherently flawed, but could aspire to great accomplishments and virtue. They merely had more to overcome.

Most of the city’s Kindred recognized this position as the condescending pap that it was, but enough of the Carthians in the area responded favorably the Victor was able to build up a small power base. He made it his mission to help the Ventrue remain pure and make the most of their special status, and to help the members of the other clans rise above the impurities of their blood. Over time, strangely enough, he started to do just that. He developed strategies for Gangrel to cope with the lack of cognitive faculty that their particular weakness brought. He helped the Succubi find ways to avoid being put in positions where they had to either abstain or indulge, and he encouraged the Nosferatu to hone their abilities in stealth rather than in engendering fear. (“It’s a useful trick,” he’d say, “but it’s a holdover from centuries past. You want to scare someone nowadays, pull a gun.”) He had nothing to offer the Mekhet, however, claiming that they were a “mud clan” among the Kindred that had somehow managed to survive despite their obvious inferiority. Again, though, he didn’t blame individual Mekhet for being Mekhet, since no Kindred chooses her clan. He simply stated that he couldn’t help them, and advised them to move as far north as possible where the nights lasted longer. When he found that Mekhet in the city had Embraced, however, he became incensed and railed at them whenever he saw them. Being Cursed was something no vampire could help. Passing on that Curse was unforgivable.

This state of affairs continued for several decades, and Victor gained a kind of cult of personality in his city and those nearby. Many Kindred hated him, but those who had actually met him found him agreeable, if a little patronizing. A number of vampires admitted that he had some good ideas for avoiding the bloodborne curses, though they chortled that he had also come across the best way to cope with his own: deny it.

Then, one winter night, a visitor arrived in the city who would send the Deucalion mission in a new direction, and ultimately lead to its status as a bloodline.

A New Wrinkle

Like many vampires, Victor had operated under the assumption that only five clans existed. He had heard rumors that “other clans” existed in other countries, but he didn’t spare them much of a thought.

But one night in February, Victor was taking a meeting with a particularly volatile Gangrel, trying to teach her to keep her mind uncluttered even in the face of myriad distractions. He was making progress, he thought, when he heard a knock at the door. When he answered it, standing there was a truly patheticlooking vampire. She was so thin that her ribs were plainly visible under her shirt. Her hair had fallen out in patches, and although she had not masked her Beast, the Predator’s Taint barely flickered in Victor’s soul. His own Beast saw her as a worm, a parasite not worth the trouble of killing. Victor at first thought she was a Nosferatu, and invited her in, but after some discussion she claimed to be a member of a minor line consisting only of herself and her sire. Intrigued, Victor listened as she spoke at length of changing her blood, watching in horror as her body changed, losing her facility for strengthening her flesh but gaining the power to flawlessly track other Kindred, even if she knew only a name.

Eventually, Victor asked her what clan she had been Embraced into, assuming it to be Gangrel. He was not prepared for her answer: “Ventrue.” Victor flew into frenzy and attacked her, draining her dry and consuming her soul.

Horrified at what he had done (in part because he was afraid he had absorbed her weakness), he contacted every Kindred who would speak to him and asked about these strange “sub-clans.” Few knew anything, but a small number confirmed what the unfortunate waif had told him: it was possible for bloodlines to form from the clans.

Victor was sickened at this news. He had held up the Ventrue as the pinnacle of vampiric achievement for so long, but now it was clear that their position wasn’t by any means secure. He entered torpor for over a year, and emerged with a renewed determination and a slightly altered mission. It was possible, he conceded, for Ventrue to lose their purity, but he was convinced that a vampire could not alter his blood by accident. Therefore, the choice to join a bloodline was still a choice, and any fallibility among the Lords came from a particular vampire’s foibles, not from the Blood. His mission, then, was to determine whether it was possible for other clans to become pure, losing their weaknesses and joining the Ventrue as unflawed Kindred. To that end, he informed his few fellow Deucaliones to begin research, interviews and legwork to find and catalog as many deviations from the five clans as they could.

So How Many Are there?

What did the Deucaliones find? How many bloodlines have they unearthed? That’s really a matter for the Storyteller and the players to decide. If you want to keep the number of bloodlines low, maybe the Deucaliones have only discovered one or two (and maybe they’re just a faction of Kindred rather than a bloodline themselves). If you like the notion of Kindred blood being mutable, then the Deucaliones might have discovered any or all of the bloodlines mentioned in Vampire: The Requiem and any of the other books that include new lineages (including Bloodlines: The Hidden and Bloodlines: The Legendary).

What Victor wasn’t telling his followers, of course, was that he had plans beyond simple categorization. He wanted to begin his own bloodline. He just needed to know how to do it.

The Bloodline of the Unflawed

Over the course of next few decades, Victor established a network of information about the various bloodlines. He managed to find members of several who were willing to aid him in his research, and he discovered the arcane process of altering his blood. Reportedly, he even entertained offers from more than one would-be Avus, but he declined these in favor of refining his blood to the point that he could begin his own line. How he managed such potent blood in a short span of time, he has never said, but he undoubtedly committed diablerie more than once during his studies. As the 20th century drew to a close, Victor decided he was ready.

He once again entered torpor, with the intention of emerging with new strength and purity. This time, he remained in slumber much longer — a side effect of his murderous habits over the preceding years. He emerged from his state nearly a decade later, claiming to have seen how to alter his blood in the fevered dreams of the torpid state. “Like clay,” he whispered, trembling. “My blood was clay, and when I touched it, it became stone. I am Deucalion, and any who choose to follow me are my children.”

Victor immediately set to work on honing his skills, and discovered, to his delight, that he had been given dominion over all Kindred weakness. With a glance or a gentle touch, he could inflict the weaknesses of the lesser clans upon other Kindred. And, he noted with some satisfaction, only the weaknesses of the four flawed clans were within his power. This proved (to him) what he had believed all along — the Ventrue were without blemish.

He invited any Ventrue who had followed him to join his bloodline, and soon thereafter opened that invitation to any Lord who wished to “wash away the stains of the world, and face the Requiem with the fortitude of stone.” He received few takers, but those who did join him agreed with his assessment: by becoming Deucaliones, they absolved themselves of whatever foolishness they had committed before that point.

Victor, however, had made enemies, and they did not wish to see him or his bloodline come to power. Within a year of rising from torpor and declaring the Deucaliones a bloodline as well as an ideological faction, Victor Spanos found that someone had put a price on his head. In order to minimize the risk to his bloodline’s members, he disappeared, staying in contact only by letters and online transmissions.

Deucaliones Tonight

The Deucalion bloodline thrives only in a few proximate cities, and its members know and aid each other (the bloodline numbers only a score or so). Despite their exclusionary propaganda, they actively court new members, and are rumored to provide interested Ventrue with the means to quickly strengthen their blood to the point that they can join the bloodline (that is, diablerie). Deucaliones hold positions of moderate power in several cities, but rarely gain enough support to take a title such as Prince or Prefect.

Deucaliones normally have one of three main positions, all inherited from their founder. The first is superiority: the Deucalion works toward the acknowledged superiority of clan Ventrue and the Deucalion philosophy.

The second position is knowledge: the Deucalion searches for knowledge of bloodlines. Interviews with bloodline members are especially prized, as are confirmed reports of strange Disciplines and weaknesses. Some Deucaliones hope to find Kindred who have transcended their parent clan’s weakness; other Deucaliones desperately hope that no such bloodline exists, because it would challenge the notion of Ventrue superiority.

The third position is instruction: the Deucalion endeavors to help non–Ventrue Kindred cope with their inborn failings. If potential students can learn to ignore the blinding condescension inherent in this attitude, they can actually learn some useful tricks from the Deucaliones. As mentioned, many Kindred find it ironic that the Deucaliones are so expert in helping other clans manage their problems while never even acknowledging their own.

As his bloodline expands, Victor waits. Rumor has it he somehow changed his face and took the position of Hound or Sheriff in a nearby domain, lurking until he can find out who put the price on his unlife and slay him. Other rumors state that he has already died, and that all of the letters and communications from his bloodline don’t go to him but to another interested party, probably the same one who called in the hit. The Ordo Dracul is the most commonly named conspirator, but Victor’s sire is another contender.

Coping With Weaknesses

No, there are no game systems specifically geared toward dodging the clan weaknesses of the Gangrel, Nosferatu, Mekhet and Daeva. The coping mechanisms that the Deucaliones teach are entirely story-based, and any game effects that they have are up to the Storyteller. Here are some examples, though of the sorts of things that the Skinheads might recommend.

• Daeva: The Deucaliones teach the Succubi avoidance. Since indulging in Vice is dangerous on a spiritual level and ignoring Vice is dangerous on a psychological level, the lesson is to avoid being in a position in which indulging is too morally shaky. Deucaliones teach Succubi to enjoy their lascivious (or gluttonous or slothful) habits outside of unlife-or-death situations, and to feed slowly so that accidentally killing a vessel isn’t as easy.
• Gangrel: The Gangrel suffer from something resembling senile dementia. Since this problem seems inborn and insurmountable, Deucaliones teach the Gangrel how to cope. Note-taking, patience, anger-avoidance techniques and mnemonics are all possibilities.
• Nosferatu: What advice a Deucalion can give a Haunt depends greatly on that Haunt’s particular problem. Some Nosferatu are simply hideous, and for that there is no immediate solution; all the Deucalion can do is advise honing one’s skills at remaining hidden and hope for the best. If the Nosferatu has a more subtle manifestation of her curse, the Deucalion often teaches the same techniques taught to method actors — inventing a persona that can cope with other people and adopting that persona’s mindset.
• Mekhet: Many Deucaliones are contemptuous of the Mekhet, and the Deucaliones’ advice often ends at “stay out of the sun.” Some Skinheads attempt to teach the Shadows methods of telling time without clocks (lengths of shadows, position of the moon and so on), but, for the most part, Victor’s biases creep through.

Nickname: Skinheads, though they call themselves the “Unflawed”

Covenant: The Deucaliones are largely a Carthian bloodline, but are sometimes accepted by other covenants, normally the Invictus or the Ordo Dracul. Some Deucaliones act as spies or double agents for the Carthian Movement, but such Deucaliones don’t tend to remain secret for very long, as their natural temperament betrays them. Deucaliones who don’t belong to any of these covenants tend to be unaligned or founders of their own proto-covenants that they feel sure will one night overthrow the existing Kindred power structure. The Lancea Sanctum and the Circle of the Crone don’t appeal to the Skinheads as a rule; those convenants’ dogma repels the Deucaliones.

Appearance: Despite the nickname, not all Deucaliones were Skinheads or even racial supremacists in life. Many were normal members of whatever society they descended from, and retain that normalcy as vampires. Most Deucaliones look healthy and fit, but in terms of clothing run the gamut from the height of fashion to last decade’s work clothes.

Haven: Deucaliones stick close to their sires or Avuses initially. After Deucaliones are “turned loose,” they often try to build up a small, tight-knit group of like-minded Kindred, and often establish a communal haven. Failing that, they usually choose one haven and fortify it beyond all reason. Many Deucalion havens have a “kill switch” that sets the place ablaze or blows it up should escape ever prove impossible.

Background: Not all Deucaliones are recruited from supremacist groups, but most have some sort of exclusionary background in life. Fundamentalist churches, old boy’s clubs, neighborhood associations and, of course, racist groups all provide the right kind of mindset, namely, “We are the strong, others are weak by nature.” The trick, of course, is making a neonate understand that because a person is black does not make him weak (for instance), because among Kindred, clan is the sole trait that matters. This deprogramming is one reason that young Skinheads remain close to their sires for a time after the Embrace. Letting a neonate Deucalion who was, for instance, a member of the Aryan Brotherhood until his Embrace run wild in Kindred society is a good way to lose a perfectly good childe, if he goes mouthing off to the wrong vampires.

Organization: Deucaliones like to keep to their own, especially since they are taught from their Embraces that the only Kindred to be trusted are Ventrue and other Deucaliones. After having been released from their sires’ care for a while, though, Deucaliones function much as other Kindred, but Deucaliones always give the Lords the benefit of the doubt. Deucaliones are expected to check in with their sires or (more often) Avuses once a month or so (phone or email is acceptable if they dwell in different cities) and keep them abreast of the news of the area and any discoveries they have made. The sires, in turn, pass this information along to their sires, and so on. In theory, Victor Spanos, wherever he is, receives information from every Deucalion in the world each month.

Concepts: Biased peacekeeper, Kindred genealogist, occult archivist, Ordo Dracul reject, psychologist, rabble-rouser, racist slime, radical leader, rich patron, vampire assassin, vampire-behaviorist

The Dragolescu bloodline was very important within the Ordo Dracul for a brief time. It emerged as a line of modern nobility, intelligent, forthright and bold. The advances of their founder into the realms of the dead and his ability to communicate with and make use of human ghosts provided the basis for much of what the covenant knows about modern haunts and Wyrm’s Nests associated with death. But the bloodline fell from grace in the middle of the 20th century, and now the name Dragolescu has come to be synonymous with sycophancy, name-dropping and the unforgivable sin of self-enslavement to otherworldly spirits.

A Traveler from the East
Ioan Dragolescu, the bloodline’s founder, changed his name to John T. Darlington when he arrived in London in 1884. The story of his Embrace is strange. Ioan was a Romanian doctor fleeing his native lands for reasons he has never fully explained (but given that his interest in communing with and enslaving the dead by his own admission before his Embrace, that might have had something to do with it). While on the ship, Ioan met a vampire of Clan Ventrue who had once been a member of the Ordo Dracul, and was, like Ioan, fleeing from retribution. A storm blew the ship off course and the two of them commiserated and found common ground on a number of points, not the least of which was “modern” medicine as applied to theosophical and metaphysical problems.

Ioan’s sire, whom he swore never to name, decided that while he himself was a poor fit for the Ordo Dracul, this young physician would be perfect. Since the Ventrue had left his old life behind, he suggested that Ioan undergo the Embrace and begin his unlife in London. Ioan agreed, and rose the following night as one of the Kindred.

With his sire’s help, Ioan Dragolescu, now John Darlington, sought out the Dragons of London and easily passed their tests of membership. He particularly excelled in the Coil of Blood, learning all three tiers within a decade. In 1895, Sigmund Freud’s work inspired him to rethink the way the Ordo had been approaching their methods of teaching, and Darlington became one of the first Dragons to incorporate psychoanalysis into preparations for chrysalises.

His experiments with these methods didn’t last long, however (although his psychological work did receive a number of followers, and the “Darlington Methods” of preparing for learning the Coil of the Soul is still popular tonight). In 1897, the publication of Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula threw the covenant and Kindred society in general, particularly in England, into an uproar. John Darlington was known to London’s Kindred as a wealthy Ventrue who chose research and scholarly pursuits over covenant issues, — for at the time, the Ordo Dracul was more a secret society than a covenant. Following publication of Stoker’s novel, however, the Ordo Dracul was revealed for what it was and any “unaligned” Kindred came under close scrutiny. Darlington decided that the direct approach was safest, and announced to the vampiric community that he was a Dragon.

The Ordo Dracul’s leadership in London had mixed feelings about this admission. On the one hand, Darlington was a respected membership of the undead community and a promising student. On the other, he was cocky and bold, and worse, he was a neonate (if a talented one). Gossip in London seemed to indicate that Darlington was either going to greet a sunrise soon or was going to receive a promotion within the Ordo Dracul. His next announcement clinched the decision.

Blood of My Blood
“Over the last few years, I have carefully researched my own mortal lineage,” explained Darlington in letters sent to key members of the Ordo Dracul and the Invictus in London. “As some of you know, I am not born of England, much though I have come to love her in my time here. My native land is that of Stoker’s whimsical fable, and indeed, in my living veins ran the blood of Vlad Dracula himself. I am a direct descendant of his line, and I am proud to claim membership in both his family and the covenant that he founded. The name I was born to is Ioan Dragolescu, and that is the name I shall use in Kindred circles henceforth.”

Darlington wisely went underground for a short period of time following this announcement, to avoid any hasty action on any other vampire’s part. The Ordo Dracul and the Invictus both researched his claim and found that he was, in fact, correct. The Dragolescu family was descended from a peasant family that Dracula had elevated to noble status in 1457 after fathering a bastard with one of their daughters. The blood claim was weak, but true, and this left the Ordo Dracul wondering again what to do about John Darlington/Ioan Dragolescu.

WHY INVICTUS?
Historians sometimes wonder why Darlington sent his letter to the Invictus as well as his own covenant. The Invictus, after all, was probably the most powerful covenant in London, and could easily have covered up the information in the letter and slain Darlington. The simple answer is that he wanted two opposing factions (the Ordo Dracul and the First Estate) to see his claims — but then why not involve the Lancea Sanctum or the Circle of the Crone?

The answer is that Darlington knew of the Invictus’ penchant for placing importance on blood ties. While normally their interest rests largely with vampiric rather than mortal lineage, a claim of kinship with Dracula (who, remember, was much on the minds of Kindred at the time) was a claim the Invictus had to investigate, both as governors and as aristocrats. The remarkable thing about Darlington’s decision wasn’t that he chose to involve the First Estate, but that he trusted Invictus genealogists to tell the truth about their findings.

The Restless Dead
In 1901, a few nights after Queen Victoria died, Ioan Dragolescu came out of hiding and reentered vampire society. Apart from using his real name among vampires (though he kept his “John Darlington” handle for use when dealing with mortals), very little about him seemed to have changed. Upon returning to London, he immediately gathered a coterie of Kindred familiar with the spirits of the dead and began research into the mysteries of ghosts.

Why the sudden interest in spirits? In actuality, it wasn’t sudden. Dragolescu had always found ghosts fascinating, but, like most Kindred, he possessed little facility for dealing with them himself. After the whirlwind of activity surrounding his lineage and the exposure of the Ordo Dracul had died down somewhat, however, he made these spirits his primary focus. During his time in hiding (which he claimed was spent in Ireland), he received a visit from a ghost of a vampire victim. Fascinated by the notion that Kindred the world over had been creating ghosts for time immemorial, he decided that these restless shades might carry information crucial to the transcendence of the undead.

The Kindred he assembled were of various ages and covenants, but all shared some experience and knowledge about ghosts. On the night of their first meeting, Dragolescu put forth his notion that the departed could act as teachers and perhaps servants to the undead, a notion that at least one of the Kindred present (a Daeva belonging to the Lancea Sanctum) found offensive. As she turned to leave, a disembodied hand, glowing a luminous shade of blue, appeared in the air and gestured for her to return to her seat. Unnerved yet inspired by this event, the Kindred took the name “the Blue Hand Coterie” thereafter.

During the years following, the Blue Hand participated in séances and exorcisms as often as it could. It was during this period that Dragolescu put forth his theories of Essentiaphagia or “soul eating,” which would later evolve into a Discipline of the same name. The Blue Hand investigated hauntings all over the British Isles and sometimes even ventured to mainland Europe, but for the most part remained focused on London. Members left, fell into torpor or met Final Death, of course, but others joined as well, including Dragolescu’s first childe, an Irish medium named Bridget Derry. The coterie reached 16 members in December of 1913, and on the winter solstice that year, Ioan Dragolescu once again shocked the Kindred world.

The Blue Hand Massacre
Sixteen Kindred and five mortals entered Dragolescu’s home outside of London on the night of December 21, 1913. Included among the Kindred were the two remaining original members of the Blue Hand (one of whom was the Daeva who had triggered the appearance of the hand), Dragolescu himself and Bridget Derry. The other 12 Kindred were mostly neonates, some of the Ordo Dracul and some of other covenants, but all of whom had aided Dragolescu in finding and cataloging ghosts. The mortals were “sensitives” and mediums, and all were there under duress.

Over the course of the night, Dragolescu used methods of torture and execution designed and perfected by his infamous ancestor to murder the five mortals. Two of the five remained as ghosts. Dragolescu then used a heretofore-unseen Discipline to control and draw power from these shades and immobilize the non-Ventrue Kindred present (six of those present were Lords). These Ventrue then committed diablerie upon their prisoners, each one consuming the souls of two of the helpless captives. Dragolescu himself committed the foul crime three times in one night.

Not all of the Ventrue present that night came through intact, of course. Two of them went mad, and were destroyed the following dawn. The others, though, pledged themselves to Dragolescu and became part of his new bloodline. “The dead shall bow before us, nourish us, guide us and provide for us,” Dragolescu reportedly said before falling into slumber that morning. “The Coils of the Dragon begin with flesh, progress to blood and end with souls.”

Needless to say, there were repercussions.

The Madness of the Dragolescu
Diablerie is a violation of the Traditions and invites retribution from several quarters, but Dragolescu and his conspirators had thought ahead on that point. The Kindred whom they chose to diablerize had no childer and their sires were either dead or hadn’t been heard from in decades. Dragolescu knew that he couldn’t get away with his crimes forever, but hoped to forestall the consequences until he and his bloodline had the support of the Ordo Dracul. In that he was successful. The more important cost of his action was to his mind and soul.

The Ventrue are no stranger to madness. Dragolescu, by the time of the Blue Hand Massacre, was already suffering from delusions of grandeur and mild paranoia. His triple diablerie made his blood powerful and granted him facility in Disciplines he had previously never known, but it also worsened his already wavering sanity. Following the Massacre, Dragolescu began referring to himself in plural. At first, other Kindred thought this to be a form of royal “we,” but it soon became clear that Dragolescu actually believed that he was more than one being. Members of his bloodline adopted this quirk as well, but only after they had achieved some proficiency in Dragolescu’s new Discipline.

Worse still, the Dragolescu discovered that their minds were never at rest. Plagued by knowledge of the afterlife and (for those who emerged from the Blue Hand Massacre) by the remnants of the souls they had consumed, they could not take solace from a day of sleep or even a sense of achieving a goal. Ad infinitum became the bloodline’s watchwords, and no accomplishment, no victory, no discovery would ever satisfy them again. It was this attitude that earned the bloodline the nickname of “the Restless.”

The new bloodline’s members spent several weeks after the Massacre consolidating their forces and continuing their research. One of them, though records are unclear as to which one, sired a childe during this time as well. The childe fled London in a panic after an “incident” at a haunt, and nothing more is known of her, including whether or not her Dragolescu heritage ever came to the fore.

The Ordo Dracul Accepts the Restless
Dragolescu met with London’s Kogaion, and the two of them spent four full nights in conversation. When they emerged, that Kogaion met with members of the Sworn of all three Orders, and after much deliberation (during which Dragolescu and his followers were kept under “house arrest,” probably to protect them), decided that Dragolescu’s previous and ongoing contributions to the Ordo Dracul were enough to balance the crimes he and his followers had committed. The covenant provided protection to the Restless, in some cases promising the rest of Kindred society that they would handle punishment internally. The First World War, of course, probably acted to distract Kindred in England from the matter of Dragolescu, and some have even postulated that he might have somehow sensed the turmoil to come and chosen the date for the Blue Hand Massacre based upon that sense.

Had Dragolescu made public appearances after that point, he probably wouldn’t have survived. By his own admission, though, he was finished with playing the political games of Kindred society, stating that they could never be resolved and their players would learn nothing. He and his bloodline had other concerns.

During the 1920s and 1930s, the Dragolescu bloodline made great advances in the Ordo Dracul’s understanding of ghosts and haunts. The Restless corresponded with Kogaions and Kindred scholars across Europe and in the United States. Dragolescu stayed in London, but wrote frequent letters to members of his bloodline in his native Romania. Some of those letters survive, and express a deep-seated longing to return:

”We dream again of Romania, of our home and our mortal family. Decades since we died, and yet we are still only ancilla in the eyes of the Kindred. The other Kindred can rest, but they are single beings, one body and one soul. We are many…

”Is it possible to return? Does anything exist outside of London, outside our adopted country? Does the Thames lead anywhere, do the ships that leave port ever arrive at their destinations?

”Is Romania, then, our home? Or have we always been here? No, Romania exists and is our home, for we are descended from Him, from Vlad the Impaler. Such ghosts he must have created. Such restlessness there in the land of our birth.”

The Beginning of the End
No matter what his feelings about his homeland, Dragolescu did not leave England. In 1933, Dragolescu received a number of guests, most of them members of the Ordo Dracul, at his home in London. It was the first time since the Blue Hand Massacre that he had allowed Kindred other than those of his bloodline into his house, and certainly those present felt a great deal of trepidation. Rumors about a repeat of the Massacre flew, but Dragolescu made his plans very public, assuring the Kindred in power that he had no intention of harming any of his guests.

Whether or not that was true will never be known. Over the course of the night, Dragolescu claims, the voices of the spirits around him grew in volume until he could no longer hear those physically present. He called upon his fellow Restless to enact rituals to rid the area of spirits so that he could think straight, and then explained what he had seen. He claimed that the Dragon was rising, and that as before, he would lay waste to his country and slay a multitude. This time, however, he would use the “breath of the Dragon,” rather than his claws. None of the assembled Kindred had any idea what this could mean, including Dragolescu himself. As the decade wore on, however, the meaning became horribly clear.

The Second World War was hard on England’s Kindred. With so many of England’s mortal sons fighting, the vampires of the Isles had trouble feeding. Many Kindred sank into torpor rather than take the chance of being bombed or starved. Dragolescu, however, was more alert than he had been in ages. He followed Germany’s progress doggedly, and actually had to be discouraged from traveling east to visit the country himself. (His bloodline felt that his desire to do so wasn’t entirely rational and would end in disaster.) As the war progressed, Dragolescu’s dreams became filled with images of poison, starvation and death, and he quietly supposed that Hitler was the rebirth of Dracula and that all other nations would fall before the Reich.

Needless to say, this attitude wasn’t popular among the Kindred of England. His own covenant warned him to keep his opinions about Hitler to himself. Expressing support for Hitler was insane enough, but any statement that could link the Nazis with the Ordo Dracul on an ideological level invited reprisals from other covenants and mystic societies, and the Dragons themselves. Dragolescu protested that he was not a Nazi and, in fact, didn’t care one way or another about Hitler’s racial or political propaganda. He was only concerned with the effect Hitler’s actions would have on the ghostly population of the world; for much as Dracula had done in the 15th century, Hitler was on the verge of wiping out a significant percentage of his country’s citizens. In the end, however, Dragolescu agreed to keep quiet, stating that “the end will come to pass no matter if we are silenced, and the unquiet spirits will serve us as we strive towards infinity.” By then, though, several of the influential Kindred of London, and of England as a whole, knew the name of Ioan Dragolescu, and equated it both with the Ordo Dracul and with the fascism of Nazi Germany.

The Sworn of Mysteries and the Sworn of the Axe noticed this, and began keeping a very close eye on Dragolescu.

The Dragon Falls
In April of 1945, Adolf Hitler committed suicide. A week later, Germany surrendered. Dragolescu, listening as his adopted country celebrated the demise of his hero, lost the few remaining shreds of humanity and sanity that he possessed.

A month later, Dragolescu began a ritual designed to make his undead body the conduit for every ghost murdered during Hitler’s regime. He felt that with that much spiritual power at his command, he could give some new purpose to the millions of dead, salvage some new power from the ashes of Europe and, in the process, become what Hitler could not. Whether or not it would have worked is unknown. Kindred of the Ordo Dracul swooped down upon Dragolescu’s home as the ritual built in power, razing the building and destroying his notes.

Dragolescu faced a trial by the Sworn of Mysteries. His crime was subjugating himself to the spirits, which carried a penalty of destruction. During the trial it became clear to Dragolescu that he had no way of successfully fighting the charge. He had made his bloodline a scapegoat, and for all he had contributed, the Ordo Dracul would never trust the Dragolescu bloodline again. Dragolescu issued a prediction to the court on August 7, 1945. He stated that a member of his bloodline would one night arise to complete the ritual he had begun, and become the unliving embodiment of all of world’s unquiet dead. That day, awaiting sentencing, Dragolescu somehow immolated himself, possibly with the help of one or more ghosts.

The Dragolescu Tonight
The Dragolescu bloodline, however, was too valuable to the Ordo Dracul to exterminate. Their facility with ghosts and haunts makes them superb “bloodhounds,” and members of the bloodline tend to be sent to cities with large numbers of reported hauntings. The stigma of their founder’s madness and devotion to Hitler’s Germany has stuck with the bloodline, however. While Kindred outside of the Ordo Dracul have rarely even heard of the Dragolescu, those inside the covenant call them “Pretenders,” and usually claim that their Essentiaphagia Discipline is nothing more than a specialized form of Auspex that allows communication with ghosts. This misconception suits the Dragolescu just fine, as they are still trying to live down their founder’s actions.

The Dragolescu are ambitious and driven, but, like Ioan himself, most of them are overly focused on the spiritual and ignore temporal realities as much as possible. As such, the Ordo Dracul finds them useful when dealing with spirits, but almost never includes them in diplomatic coteries. Modern Dragolescu sometimes feel cheated by Ioan’s actions, and many search for a way to redeem their line in the eyes of their covenant. Despite all that has happened, the Dragolescu are extremely loyal to the Dragons, and still take extreme pride in their founder’s relationship to Dracula.

Covenant: Despite their travails, the Dragolescu are for the most part still loyal the Ordo Dracul. What few remain usually become spiritual bloodhounds for the covenant, seeking out haunts and ghosts — under strict supervision, of course. Occasionally, a Ventrue from another covenant, usually the Circle of the Crone, joins the bloodline. The Invictus of some domains welcomes members of this bloodline, if they can verify their lineage back to Ioan Dragolescu. Why the First Estate is willing to accept the Pretenders is unknown.

Appearance: The Dragolescu are born of nobility, and, being a Ventrue bloodline, many of them are acquainted with high society. Their attire tends to be slightly dressier than appropriate for most occasions, and is often somewhat outdated, in favor of fashions from the 1940s and 1950s. Since Dragolescu are so often in motion, they tend to favor clothing that holds up to travel and activity well — something they can wear while kneeling in soot.

Very few non-Caucasian Pretenders exist, but this is more a result of the bloodline’s European location of origin than of any racial preference. Non-Caucasian Dragolescu are still likely to be English or otherwise European.

Haven: Unlike some Ventrue, the Dragolescu don’t tend toward lavish havens. Spacious, yes, especially if the Pretender in question is in the habit of creating ghosts rather than simply using them. But since the Dragolescu don’t rest easily, they don’t spend much time actually in their havens (again, unless engaged in research). A Pretender’s haven is likely to be sparsely furnished but overflowing with books, notes and spiritualism paraphernalia, and might either be meticulously ordered or so cluttered that only the owner could possibly make sense of it.

Background: The Dragolescu Embrace almost exclusively from the ranks of mortals who have some affinity for sensing, communicating with or even controlling ghosts. The Essentiaphagia Discipline is much easier to master if the practitioner instinctively understands some of the truths about spirits, after all. The Pretenders aren’t as particular as their parent clan about Embracing from high society, but they do prefer people educated in classics, literature, folklore, history and the occult, which aren’t exactly blue-collar pursuits.

Ventrue outside of the bloodline may join, but the Ordo Dracul regulates this very carefully. Only those Ventrue who are judged to be strong enough to handle the restlessness and mental rigor of the bloodline are allowed to become Dragolescu. Ventrue who do often take “Darlington” as a middle name as a nod of respect to their new family.

Character Creation: Mental Attributes are usually primary, but Physical or Social might be secondary, depending on the approach of a given Pretender. Skills depend on the background of the Kindred in question, but every Dragolescu has some rating in Academics, Investigation and Occult (thus Mental Skills are usually primary). Mental Merits are appropriate, though Social Merits tend to dry up quickly, given the bloodline’s reputation in the Ordo Dracul. Remember that a second dot of Blood Potency is necessary to be a member of any bloodline.

Organization: The seat of Dragolescu power, such as it is, still rests in London. Despite the fact that the bloodline founder was Romanian by birth, the bloodline thinks of itself as undeniably English. Beyond that, a city with a Dragolescu presence typically also has a greater-than-average number of haunts. The Ordo Dracul keeps very close track of the Pretenders, however, never sure if or when Ioan Dragolescu’s last prediction will come to pass.

Concepts: Blue Hand apologist, detective, disgraced Ventrue scion, genealogist, ghost hunter, ghost wrangler, haunt architect, horror writer, medium, prophet, student to the Kogaion.

In tales, vampires are often depicted as rapacious creatures of unmatched appetite. They appear from the shadows, turning the lives of hapless mortals into waking nightmares of blood and sorrow. Often, stories of decadent aristocracy parallel these portrayals of the undead. Bored nobility charm some naïve peasant, inviting him into the world of the languid halls of power, only to turn the poor worker’s life into a game. In the languorous Duchagne bloodline, the two images have merged, spawning a creature driven as much by a never-ending hunger as by a deep-seated need for new sensations.

Among the bourgeoisie of 1765 France, few could hold the fickle attention of indolent aristocracy such as the Vicomte and Vicomtesse du Chagne. Though not land-owners, the du Chagne were competent merchants and excellent manipulators. Their lavish parties consistently pushed the boundaries between risqué and obscene, delighting the court of King Louis XV and his successor.

The Vicomte, Albaric, and his wife, Eglatina, had voracious appetites that would have put even Caligula to shame. The parties they held were always scandalous affairs: they often brought in prostitutes from nearby cities, each paid handsomely for her service and silence. There, they suffered the sadistic vices of the Vicomte, Vicomtesse and their guests. When not playing hosts to debauchery, the du Chagnes toyed with the affections of naïve youths in the Court, tempting them with deviant pleasures and empty promises of power and wealth. For husband and wife, the hunt was the only interest; the outcome unimportant.

A Daeva, attracted to their folly, found most of these games less than innovative in comparison to those of the Kindred. But the depraved couple themselves were fascinating to him, and he believed they had great potential. He decided he would sculpt the two into social predators worthy of Kindred society. In the midst of an arranged party for his friends, the Daeva took the pair and introduced them to their Requiems. The two reveled in the Danse Macabre, diving into the courtly intrigues as though born to it.

Their sire instructed them in the les arts licencieux, showing them how to use the Vitae to alter the emotions of their victims. The trio was inseparable, holding grand masques for mortal and Kindred guests alike. As the pair’s newfound abilities grew, the parties became lavish spectacles, often escalating into chaotic orgies of blood and pain. This unmitigated lust for sensation, however, led to their downfall. The three were so consumed in their own games of manipulation and self-gratification that they lost track of the troubles brewing around them.

The three remained blissfully ignorant for several decades as problems plagued the social structure of France. As insurgents assaulted the Tuileries, the Vicomte and his wife held a masque. When the Assembly suspended the monarchy with the support of the Jacobins, the three dallied with a family of the nouveaux riches. Then, as the sun was low in the Parisian sky, the revolution came with violence and voices raised in anger. Weakened from the sleep of the day, the vampires were no match for the mob. The Vicomte and his sire met Final Death, while only Eglatina survived, though barely. Wounded and in shock as her lavish world crumbled into ash, the Vicomtesse retreated into the numbing grasp of torpor.

Several decades later, she emerged from the death-like sleep and sought relief from the nightmares of torpor that plagued her. She took in several mortal retainers, hoping to use them to satisfy her debased appetites and to salve her grief. Strangely, the old methods failed to elicit any joy in her dead heart. Even more bizarrely, the loss of the Vicomte and her sire twisted her ministrations, forcing the protégées (as she preferred to call her subjects) to share her sadness and regret, feeling it as their own. Most broke under the mixture of physical and psychological torment, but a small handful flourished. No matter what she levied against their flesh and minds, these servants begged for more. Impressed, she eventually Embraced them, training them in the ways of the Vitae as she had been trained. These protégées took on the title of Les Élèves du Chagne, or more simply, the Duchagne.

Or so goes the story as told by Eglatina. Many of her descendants, however, suspect that either purposeful deception or torpor-twisted memories have altered the truth. In the carefully manicured salons of the Duchagne, broodmates exchange whispered speculation. Some believe that the unnamed sire was the true origin of the bloodline’s prized ability to manipulate the senses of others. They claim that Eglatina killed her own sire and husband out of a selfish desire to be in total control.

Others believe that Albaric was actually killed prior to the Vicomtesse’s Embrace, and that her own desire twisted her mind in torpor, creating false memories of a fantasy life. The bloodline’s ability to twist perception, they say, is a direct extension of Eglatina’s wishful desire to change the truth. And what of the mysterious Daeva who sired her? Why has she never spoken his name? Has she forgotten, or does she merely choose not to remember?

Over the last couple of centuries, members of the bloodline have changed little from the sybaritic lifestyle of the du Chagne, even if they are a bit more adapted to modern lifestyles. It is also worth noting that the majority have taken a far more active role in Kindred society, adding their unique talents as marketable skills to their covenant of choice.

Because of the power wielded by members of this bloodline, outsiders are often leery of interaction. Rumors abound about just what the Bacchantes are capable of doing, and few wish to find out from personal experience. Indeed, the grand balls held by the bloodline on special occasions are often more than most care to see. These gatherings are used by members to parade their latest protégées, or to display particularly clever uses of the bloodline’s ability to manipulate the senses. These parties can be as formal as the standard high school prom or as surreal as the most twisted carnival.

However, in spite of their shared induction experiences, there is little that truly unifies members of the bloodline any more. Often it is only their rapid loss of empathy for others that connects two Duchagne. Sensations are quick to please, and discarded even more quickly. Within a few short years, a Duchagne vampire finds that it takes more and more depraved acts to stir any sense of pleasure in her existence, until only the most base and cruel indulgence manages to bring a weary smile to her pallid face. The reason for this desensitizing is as much grist for the rumor mill of the bloodline as their origin.

Covenant: Most Duchagne find a place in the hallowed halls of the First Estate. The Duchagne’s manipulative gifts allow them to excel at negotiation and interrogation in equal measures, as well as general interaction with kine and Kindred. Duchagne vampires make excellent Advocates, Speakers and Interpreters. Some use their power to rocket up through the ranks of the Invictus, applying it viciously to their competition. Many Kindred fear the subversive talents of the Duchagne, but few give voice to those fears, knowing full well that they risk becoming targets of the Bacchantes’ attention.

The Circle of the Crone holds the second largest number of this bloodline. The concept of growth and tribulation appeals to the Bacchantes’ nature, and through pain the bloody rites of Cr˙ac hold a certain (some would say unhealthy) amount of fascination.

A Duchagne Acolyte is likely to build a cult of personality around herself, using her ability to alter the senses of her followers to convince them of her own divinity. Often these mortal cults enthusiastically deify the vampire, bringing willing, and not so willing, prey to sate her bloodlust. Many of the Bacchantes who take this route burn out quickly though, often buying into their own rhetoric and pushing themselves to wilder and wilder excess in the name of misbegotten self-worship.

Other, less self-serving Duchagne see the Crone’s faith in growth through tribulation as a natural path to enlightenment, and consider their own initiation into undeath part of the process. To these ends, they begin to revere pain and torment. The members of these bloody factions are scar-covered, callous thugs who attempt to spread their own pain into the lives of all around them, believing that the anguish will ease their souls toward enlightenment.

Those few Duchagne who join the ranks of the Lancea Sanctum often disapprove of the decadence and self-indulgence their brothers and sisters wallow in. To these Sanctified, les arts licencieux are better put to the use of hounding the heretical and tormenting the wicked. Moreover, members of this covenant eschew many of the hedonistic indulgences of their brethren, choosing to indulge few pleasures of their own outside of the completion of their duty.

The Carthian Movement holds little appeal for the Duchagne. Eglatina has commented often to her childer and grandchilder of the Movement’s similarities to the revolution that took her sire and husband from her, and these teachings have filtered down the ranks of the bloodline, tainting members’ attitudes toward the covenant.

There are, to date, no members of the Duchagne within the ranks of the Ordo Dracul. Though certain ideals espoused by the Dragons pique the occasional interest of a lone Bacchante, the Duchagne’s inability to stay interested in repetitious work tends to diminish her ability to take the covenant’s philosophies seriously.

Appearance:
Though Albaric and Eglatina were noble in title alone, the two still maintained the appearance of those born to the aristocracy. And while protégées are taken from generally all areas and cultures of life, there is a certain standard to which members are held when it comes to appearances. Two members of the same brood may be as differing in tastes as night and day, but whatever it is they choose to wear, one can be assured it is the finest, and most fashionable and most expensive.

Yet, there is always a certain antiseptic look and scent about members of the Duchagne, like someone who has been working in a hospital or with chemical cleaners. Everything is too carefully arranged, too perfect. One would almost believe that their clothes are worn once, and never again.

Haven:
The members of the bloodline are all about keeping up appearances, and few other places allow for such an intimate look at the soul as the hearth and home. The havens of the Duchagne are palettes and tools with which the vampires use to create their masterpieces upon the blank canvases of their protégées. As such, functionality is as important as style.

Where one might maintain a spartan dwelling filled with easily cleaned faux leather furniture, another exists in a lavish home in a cocoon of rich textures and color. Both, havens, however, would be set up for quick rearranging and cleaning. The two would also have ‘accommodations’ secreted away for future protégées. The maintaining of these hidden (and sometimes not-so-hidden) rooms often leaves behind a strong scent of antiseptic solutions, which clings to the bodies and clothing of residents. It is perhaps this scent that others commonly associate with the bloodline.

Background: The predominant number of Duchagne originated from the ranks of protégées with which the members surround themselves. Prospects are often watched for months before being taken. A few never even enter their possible sire’s haven, but are tested from a distance, their every action judged. There is no true measure to gauge a protégée’s worth as a member save that which the vampire decides. Those who survive their patron’s perverse affections and manage to show an enthusiasm for said treatment are desirable candidates for the Embrace. Those who fail remain the target of the Duchagne’s attentions. That is, until the vampire tires of them, and tire the Duchagne quickly do. Duchagne rarely use the Blood Oath, certainly not on a protégée. The student’s mind must be clear of foreign influences. Never does a protégée come from the blood addicted.

Induction of Daeva into the bloodline has rarely occurred. Indeed, the majority of this bloodline has never known anything other than the intimate relationship between sire and childe, and few even realize that they are anything but Duchagne. If a Bacchante found a Daeva with great promise, that Daeva might be taken into the bloodline, but the Daeva would have to be willing to undergo the same treatment that mortal protégées do.

Character Creation:
Protégées are chosen from a wide variety of mortals, but those who excel in social or mental practice tend to be Embraced more often then those who are more physically inclined. Manipulation, Composure and Resolve are highly favored Attributes, although, after the physical trauma many protégées endure prior to the Embrace, a high Stamina is quite justified.

Social and Mental Skills are coveted by the members of this bloodline. Crafts, Intimidation and Subterfuge are all useful, as are Medicine and Socialize. Herd and Haven are highly prized Merits, as well as connections to mortal police and criminal organizations.

Organization:
The sire/childe connection continues to be the primary source of order within the Duchagne, with Eglatina sitting as the Matriarch above all. Typically, the sire, termed the esclavagiste, inducts a mortal possessing qualities the sire finds favorable. This mortal is referred to as the protégée, and remains such until released into Kindred society. Protégées possess little-to-no rights, save those their esclavagiste grant them, and are little more than slaves. Duchagne rarely trade protégées, but it might happen in instances of truly stubborn inductees.

Upon release into Kindred society, the protégée is referred to as being sans entrave, or unchained. Typically, a grand ball is held in the Duchagne’s honor. Such parties are not restricted by covenant politics, or even blood ties. Indeed, grand balls tend to be showcases of the bloodline’s collective talents.

Concepts: Lothario, Prince’s interrogator, drug lord, bondage freak, con artist, power behind the throne, bored aristocrat, purveyor of the flesh, vengeful zealot.

Hecate’s daughters, chosen from the children raised in her cult, are, almost to a one, the most zealous believers in their “mother.”

History and Culture: Empusae make up the entire vampiric population of Hecate’s territory. They all live in the underground warrens and abandoned homes that have been claimed by the Queen of Ghosts. The covens that have spread to nearby cities tend to stick together in communal havens, for protective as well as religious reasons.

All Hecate’s daughters share a common animal feature— the legs of a goat—when they are in their true form. Beyond that, Hecate and her childer prefer young women who have experienced the oppression of men and are stronger for it. There is a certain tension in the set of their jaws, a hardness in their eyes, that melts when they go in for the kill.

Almost every Empusa belongs to Prytania’s flavor of the Circle of the Crone. Whether this is due to loyalty to their progenitor or simple sheltering is up for debate. Certainly the covens that have spread out to more urban environs will become more cosmopolitan, with unaligned members and even those who join the Ordo Dracul. Even still, the Circle will remain the most prominent Covenant among the bloodline, and those who turn their back on Prytania’s faith are often persuaded to return, or ostracized by their siblings.

Those of Hecate’s childer who have remained near her act as high priestesses of her cult. They oversee the education and rearing of Hecate’s favored stolen children and answer to Mother. The prodigal covens each have a high priestess in charge, and a number of initiates. A region’s Empusae gather once a month on the full moon for religious observance and feast. If a coven has grown too large—above thirteen members—then the high priestess will choose a second high priestess from her followers and split the coven in two. The new coven must then move to the next city, spreading the faith and the bloodline outward.

The ways in which Empusae doctrine mirrors Kindred society, from their odd little denomination of the Circle of the Crone to their observance of the Masquerade, are coincidental. Prytania Hecate and her children have never encountered another vampire. They do not understand vampiric slang or the feudal class system of mainstream Kindred society. They are ignorant of the etiquette required when a vampire enters another’s domain, or of the power of the Prince or Primogen. The do not even know they are descended from the Gangrel.

Members of the En bloodline seek power above all else, and will stop at nothing to obtain it. They hail from royal blood, and believe themselves worthy and entirely deserving of unquestioning loyalty from their lessers. Emperors are self-made and self-proclaimed leaders, and often seek positions of political, financial or even military power. En are not known for their patience, however, and many gain their power though corrupt means, rather than through work and hard-won support of others. While many of the Damned have a thirst for power, the En bloodline is, perhaps, more capable than most to achieve greatness. Members of the bloodline are host to symbiotic demons, called alu, that grant the En potent abilities and assist them in their rise to power. An En must always remind himself of who he was before his union with the demon, however, lest he lose himself entirely on the path to greatness.

History and Culture: The En bloodline takes its name from the Sumerian word meaning “lord” or “god” which was also the title given to the Kindred ruler of the shadow empire of ancient Babylonia. The En bloodline traces its roots back to a singularly puissant En, Isiratuu, who held regency over much of Babylonia for twelve thousand years. It is said that the founder of the bloodline gained a “great and terrible gift” from a dark stranger in a dream. It was this gift that gave him the strength and the right to rule over all. Kindred descending from the En are said to have similar experiences involving a shadowy being of some kind.

Members of the bloodline are born leaders, and, as most En would say, were obviously meant to reign due to their royal lineage. Many Emperors feel utterly justified in unceremoniously claiming positions of authority, and they expect nothing less than the utmost respect when they do so. Members of the En bloodline do not tolerate objection to their inherited supremacy, and, when it will not hinder his advancement, an En uses brutal means to make certain that contesting vampires are aware of that fact.

A Daeva is recognized as a member of the bloodline when he is chosen by a “Dark Stranger” — a symbiotic demon called an alu. Alu feed off of the corrupt power of their Kindred host, and, in return, they assist those of the bloodline in their rise to greatness by granting them certain abilities known as the Gifts of the Alu.

An alu seeks out a Kindred host and offers a partnership. While any Daeva might be suitable, Alu tend to prefer Kindred descended from En Isiratuu, perhaps drawn to the lust for power passed on through the progenitor’s blood. If the vampire accepts the demon’s offer, he becomes a full-fledged member of the bloodline. The alu merges with the new Emperor, becoming one with his blood. As the demon feeds off of its host it increases in power, and the abilities it bestows upon the vampire become more formidable. The powers granted by an alu should be used carefully, however, as the En runs the risk of losing himself entirely by consorting with the demon (see Gifts of the Alu, below).

En Embrace often, but are relatively few in number because they typically do so purely to build up a support system of loyal followers. They are not fond of competition, and as such, En typically try to Embrace from mortals who others easily manipulated in life. However, because members of the bloodline are so focused upon their own advancement, they tend to frequently misjudge the strength and potential of their children. True En arise from these errors in judgment, as an alu can recognize innate potential for power even if an Emperor cannot.

New En surpass their sires to repeat the vicious cycle with each new generation.

Reputation: En have a reputation for using corrupt methods to quickly rise to power, making them unpopular to all but their most devoted subjects. Diablerie is common among the En bloodline, and Emperors do not suffer the same detriments that other vampires would by committing such an act. Perhaps because of this, Kindred who know of the En greatly fear the bloodline.

Some vampires, however, are more than willing to follow an En, as power often trickles down to those beneath. An Emperor can be most generous to those who serve him devotedly and acknowledge his superiority, granting favors and portioning authority among his supporters.

Concepts: Corrupt politician, rising starlet, demanding father-figure, brash drug lord, deluded serial killer, condescending magistrate, cult leader, callous CEO, mob boss, arrogant aristocrat

The Erzsébet long to walk in the light. Not to commit suicide. Not to be mortal again. The Erzsébet exalt in their undeath, singing Requiems that might be hymns of praise. They long to walk in the sun because it’s the only thing they haven’t done yet. Members of the Erzsébet know that, while eternity is within their reach, it cannot go uninterrupted. As age creeps in and poisons their blood, they are reminded that nothing can stave off torpor forever. They enjoy their unlives to the fullest, so that they may sail into the ages without regret.

Nickname: Cavaliers (contemporary), the Withered (derogatory). They also go by many family names, including Moretti, Syska and Rózsa.

History and Culture: The Erzsébet have very little history as a bloodline, but quite a bit as immediate families and individuals. They owe this to the peculiar circumstances of their line’s recorded appearances in Europe. In the late 17th century, a woman calling herself Syska appeared at several courts in northern Italy.

Travel in the Mediterranean region was unusually easy in that period, thanks to many active trade routes and Kindred financing thereof. The Mediterranean Kindred were undergoing something of a Renaissance of their own, reveling in widespread cooperation between independent Ventrue rulers; at the time, the Ventrue were popularly aligning themselves as the founders of the Invictus and the truest heirs to Rome. At the same time, the Lancea Sanctum was enjoying a spiritual resurgence led by glorious churches and the revival of pilgrimages. These traditions were bolstered by the availability of skilled mortal labor-for-hire and the awakening of large numbers of crusader Kindred.

Cooperation between Princes was common, if always from a distance, and Syska made herself useful as a messenger. Due to her varying age and long disappearances, she was widely believed to be a brood of several different Daeva, perhaps Embraced from the same mortal stock. In fact, Syska was a single vampire, afflicted with the aging common to her bloodline. Syska is the earliest known Erzsébet, and was believed to be Polish by the Kindred she dealt with in Italy. Later claims that either her mortal or vampiric line were Hungarian are difficult to verify. In 1657, Syska appeared before the Court of Milan for the last time. She became embroiled in an argument over whether she had been using her nomadic existence to Embrace promiscuously, and murdered her accuser. She was sentenced to torpor, but escaped.

In 1751, a young-looking elder named Rózsa appeared in Vienna. Recently-published histories had made a folk-heroine out of Elizabeth Bathory, the so-called Blood Countess. While mortal culture wouldn’t identify Bathory with vampirism for several centuries, the Kindred of Vienna celebrated the murderess almost as one of their own. The myth of a mortal who understood why life must be stolen gripped the Kindred imagination in Vienna. Parties were held reenacting and exaggerating Lady Bathory’s crimes. The sins of the mortal became heroism to the damned. The Kindred have often indulged excess, and the growing Bathory legends provided a theme for this prediliction, connecting it to the humanity that the stuffy Lancea Sanctum urged secular vampires to abandon.

Rózsa emerged into this social scene claiming not only to be Hungarian… but to be the childe of Elizabeth Bathory herself! Her stories were met both with applause (for their daring) and skepticism (for their general implausibility). Rózsa built a cult of personality around her mother and herself. She claimed that, like Dracula, Elizabeth Bathory had been cursed by God, and that her alleged death was only torpor, the result of being deprived of the blood she required. Bathory, said Rózsa, had been buried in unmarked and unhallowed ground, her monument inscribed with a false name.

Rózsa threw herself into the parties and asked for nothing but invitations… yet, sometimes she lamented that her fortunes had declined, that she could not return to her mother’s tomb and raise the Blood Countess from the dead. She began to age, gradually, lending more credence to her claim that her unique line suffered a unique curse. Bathing in blood, she said, was her mother’s means of comfort, not a true ward against the curse’s power. Other Kindred gave her small sums of money, fortunes that might enable her to locate her mother’s resting place and wake the heroine, and Rózsa cached them throughout the region. When it became clear that she had no intent to mount the search or even return to Hungary, Rózsa and her childe fled Vienna
for the shores of England, where she reinvented herself as one Mariza Moretti.

Auctors and other nomadic mercenaries were dispatched to follow her. Over time, small donations had become large fortunes, and the Kindred of Vienna wanted them back. They offered substantial rewards for the capture of any “Erzsébet,” rewards worth risking the roads and sun for. Mariza became Marisa, and spawned several broods, at least one of which came with her when she relocated to the Americas.

Tonight, the American Erzsébet are largely known as the Moretti. They generally present themselves as a line of Daeva with a unique and unexplained curse. The Erzsébet understand their aging as a growing poison in the Blood, and often believe it as a consequence of growing in potency rather than age. Some modern cousins of the bloodline refer to it as if it were a virus somehow unique to vampires within their family. Nonetheless, most know that it cannot be transmitted. Some have tried to cure it by making pacts with spirits. Others join the Order of the Dragon and perform obscene experiments upon themselves. A few even approach mortal doctors, wondering if the problem is a conflict between humanity and undeath rather than a true weakness in their Vitae.

Erzsébet often feel more kinship with their ghouls than Kindred outside their bloodline, and certainly more than those out- side their clan. Ghouls, too, are afforded an altered mortality instead of true agelessness. Where they can suppress passion and impatience, they often groom ghouls over decades to prime them as new members of the family. When Marisa herself traveled to the New World, as many of her brood were ghouls as were childer. Even before the modern day, Erzsébet tended to keep in touch with her progeny. A few hunters still chase them on behalf of European Kindred.

Most Erzsébet qualify for the Close Family Merit, and several have independently invented the Night Life Devotion. Their Auspex enables them to avoid the bounty hunters who still occasionally pursue them, and to enjoy every pleasure of unlife just a little more. The one true family creed of the Erzsébet is this: enjoy youth and vigor while they last, because soon they will give way to sleep under the sun.

Altogether, there are only seven official Eupraxus vampires. Of the seven, three of them are in torpor, and have been for centuries. The remaining four are split between Europe and North America, one being the Prince of Nice, France, his childe being the leader of the Amsterdam Harpy’s Guild, with Herbert and Emily Washington being the American installment. The Old World Eupraxus are deeply traditional, to say the least, while the two New World Eupraxus are rapidly becoming the new, fresh face of an old and tired Covenant.

The truth is the regional Invictus need the Eupraxus. Like any nobility, it looks as if they don’t do much at all, and leech off the work of those around them. Certainly, that’s the Carthian impression of them. The reality is that the Eupraxus lend respectability and tradition to the admittedly underhanded, if not evil, activities of the First Estate. Sure you kill babies and grind their bones up into ink for your twisted magical documents, but you’ve got vampires like these who give your activities a glamorous gloss. Even better, when you’re not trying to act exactly like them, you can look and sound cool by saying you’re not like them. It’s a win-win situation for the Invictus: the Eupraxus lead easy lives and the Invictus get to use them as trophies. Much like the Crown Jewels of England or the Imperial Regalia of Japan, the Eupraxus are the core around which the rest of the treasury is piled.

History and Culture:
Different Eupraxus make wildly divergent claims about the line’s founder. Who he was isn’t all that important… the real secret to the success of the Eupraxus family name is that it exploits the Invictus’s pyramidal hierarchy. Every Invictus is sworn to another Invictus in what appears from the outside to be a ludicrous Ponzi scheme wherein the unholy walking corpses of pretty people in suits participate. And, like any Ponzi scheme, the process has to continue endlessly, both at the top and at the bottom. Since the Invictus elders and elites don’t really like being sworn to somebody anymore more than the Invictus at the bottom, a Eupraxus offers a convenient solution. Being sworn to the Eupraxus is being sworn to a family that won’t ever ask anything of you other than what you can already easily provide. Since there are so few Eupraxus, their cultural cache is undiluted, and it is by swearing to the Eupraxus that an Invictus mucky-muck can still claim to be sworn to somebody without having to swear to somebody who will actually ask something of them.

For the Invictus of the New World who still have connections to the Old, the Eupraxus are like a visit from missed relatives. Their impeccable manners and taste are the ideal of what the First Estate should be about, even if Emily looks a little, well, “different.” Being able to admit that the Invictus can be of any race or gender is terribly important in North America, especially if they are competing for turf with the far more inclusive Carthian Movement.

As for the Invictus on the bottom, the Eupraxus gives a special incentive to work hard. The name “Eupraxus” means “Doer of Good Deeds,” and neither Herbert nor Emily Eupraxus forget any favor. While they themselves are rarely in the position to repay a favor directly, all they need to do is point the correct elder in the correct direction and the reward is swiftly produced. And that’s assuming anything more than a bag of cash is required.

Since Herbert and Emily make “Progresses” around their region several times a year, word gets around. The Eupraxus never try to rally troops or make threats, but are generous with money and gossip. Combined with good manners, this buys them the rare privilege of travel throughout a half dozen cities.

As for joining the bloodline, one doesn’t “join.” Each Eupraxus is allowed one heir, and bastards are frowned upon, although common. Since bastards rarely know who they are, they rarely recognize the bloodline, even if they do manifest it. Allegedly, this has occurred only a handful of times in the two-millennia history of the family. Because of the system of direct lineage, the entire bloodline could be wiped out fairly easily, or, even worse, supposing one of those bastards did realize what he was, the lineage could be debased with undeserving nobodies. It’s not worth anybody’s time to make that happen right now, but the gossip would be fantastic.

Reputation:
Reputation is all the Eupraxus need. It’s also most of what they have. They have money, sure, they have connections and servants and several houses throughout upper New England. But it’s their reputation, the stories of vast rewards for aiding them, that keeps them in demand.

The Lancea Sanctum, which fancies itself the Second Estate, reacts to “Kindred nobility” the same way medieval clergy reacted to the aristocracy. They’re eager to be on hand to “bless” the proceedings when Emily and Herbert are around. The Circle of the Crone and the Ordo Dracul generally show up out of curiosity more than anything. As for the Carthian Movement, opinion is torn. Emily, as an Asian-American born of the twentieth century, has the same appeal as did Princess Diana to Americans of the 1980s. While they disagree (in theory) with the pomp and circumstance of the bent-over-backwards Invictus socialites, they can see she represents change in even a small way.

Vitae contains undeniable power. Each drop offers new potential. The Kindred understand some of this potential — it feeds them, stirs their spiritless limbs and gives life to dead magic. That’s only a fraction of the possibility, though — the Vitae channeled through a Damned vessel offers a world of secret, untapped strength for those desperate enough.

The Galloi know this. These vampires believe themselves to be prime examples of what the Blood can truly do. The Kindred of this bloodline come from the Nosferatu, those monstrous creatures fearsome in flesh and spirit. The Galloi believe that the Blood has reversed this curse. They claim that Vitae not only feeds them and empowers them but has also literally made the fiendish beautiful once again, if only for a time. To re-form his gruesome carcass, the Galloi bathes in blood, immersing himself completely within it. Once he withdraws from his bath, his monstrous flesh is replaced with an eerily perfect figure. Others call this bloodline the “Pretties,” a bitter sobriquet illustrating the alarmingly unnatural beauty of these monsters. The Galloi do not discourage the epithet.

The bloodline has carried the knowledge of the ritual bloodbath since the primeval nights before Rome’s birth. The Pretties do not question from whence the power or wisdom comes. Revering the goddess Cybele, these blood-smeared cultists act as her voice among the Acolytes of the Circle of the Crone. The goddess’ worshippers long ago bathed in blood and gore to gain her favor, and her children (both Kindred and kine) do the same tonight. Those who do not know her wisdom — even those within the Circle itself — can be made to understand. It’s easy to show them the way, to reveal her veiled power through the offers of blood. The Pretties can grant Cybele’s favor to others, for a time. Of course, there is always a price.

Covenant:
With few exceptions, the Galloi belong to the Circle of the Crone. Moreover, many Galloi make particularly zealous Acolytes. A small minority of this bloodline makes their homes among the Invictus or the Carthians, eschewing any kind of spirituality and enjoying cosmopolitan Requiems of politics and power. Only the most marginal Galloi ever end up in the ranks of the Ordo Dracul or the Lancea Sanctum, however. Those Galloi who end up in the Order do so to understand (or exploit) their own mystic proclivities. The rare Galloi who becomes Sanctified generally does so to rebuke his own “heathen sins” and to find a new Requiem as one of God’s cursed children.

Appearance:
A Pretty’s appearance is dictated in part by his weakness (see below). When freshly bathed in blood, the vampire appears eerily beautiful, his form almost unearthly: skin like virgin porcelain, lips the color of fresh blood, long, delicate limbs and wide, bright eyes. Perhaps more importantly, the vampire appears androgynous. The creature appears not so much without gender as possessing both male and female aspects — roundness of breasts, a subtle musculature, an Adam’s apple upon a wine-stem neck. Many Galloi accentuate this gender ambiguity through fashion, wearing severe suits or overt configurations of haute couture. Some wear clothing that shows a surprising amount of skin, thus confusing the issue more. Others sport hairless bodies, shaving themselves bald or wearing wigs and penciling in their eyebrows.

When the vampire has suffered time away from his bloodbaths, however, he looks truly monstrous, like a skeleton swathed in rotten cloth. His skin becomes etched in deep wrinkles, and, sometimes, bones poke through frail flesh. At this point, the gender-ambiguous appearance also fades – the vampire’s original masculinity or femininity becomes more obvious beneath the monstrosity.

Haven:
Most Galloi favor modern (even minimalist) havens located in places of desperation. The Galloi realize that they have much to offer the hopeless. The Galloi can bring youth, beauty and other advantages to those who need them most, and that puts the Galloi in a position of power. Therefore, many Galloi establish havens near artist communities, within seedy neighborhoods, even among the struggling middle class. The Galloi obviously prefer to dwell within the cities, with the rest of the Kindred, though some Galloi enjoy the comforts and opportunity of more remote existence.

Some Pretties choose to dedicate their havens as shrines to the goddess Cybele. Cybele’s temples used to be underground; such subterranean sanctuaries represented the dark and earthy womb. In homage, particularly ardent Galloi choose havens beneath the ground, such as abandoned chambers off abandoned subway tunnels, the cellars of old houses or neglected bomb shelters. Even these subterranean dwellings tend to show off the vampires’ bizarre tastes in fashion, art and décor.

Background:
Potential Galloi often hail from desperate situations. The desperate seek answers and control, whether they realize it or not. The Pretties offer answers and control. Sires drag their childer into new misery and give them new perspectives on suffering from within the bloodline. Simultaneously, though, Galloi give hope where none existed before. They grant beauty where only ugliness thrived. They present a different reality in which fleeting solace lies in the shadows, proffered by secret gods, and where Blood is the key to all doors. The Circle of the Crone, and Cybele in particular, has the answers to life, death and everything in between. When the Galloi find a wretched-enough soul deserving of truth, they may groom him for the bloodline and eventually Embrace him or act as his Avus to allow him entry into this primeval lineage.

Character Creation:
Some Pretties value sharpness of mind, whereas others rely upon keen social wiles. Thus, individual Galloi tend to be particularly dominant in either the Social or Mental categories (both Attributes and Skills). Few Galloi devote any attention at all to the Physical, and, as a result, many vampires of this bloodline appear winnowed or gaunt. Favored Skills include Intimidation, Investigation, Occult, Persuasion and Socialize, the better with which to ply the Pretties’ cultic trades. Galloi often favor Social Merits, as well, and often have high Allies and Contacts, with Herd coming in a close third.

Organization:
The Galloi bloodline doesn’t have much in the way of formal organization. This bloodline’s hierarchy is that of the Circle as a whole, and many among the Pretties aspire to leadership roles among the Acolytes. The Galloi tend to feel that they are more dearly committed to the precepts of the covenant than the hoi polloi, and, therefore, consider themselves deserving of authority. (Those who don’t respect the hard-earned accolades of Galloi among the hierarchy will, at the very least, intimately learn the tenet that “tribulation brings enlightenment.”) Ambitious individual Pretties often seek to become Hierophants of the local covenant. The key advantage of this is that the Hierophant essentially sets the local focus of the Circle’s worship. In this way, the Pretties can establish Cybele as the core divinity of the Circle’s veneration. The Galloi grant Cybele favor (and in return, purportedly gain advantage themselves) by “enlightening” others with regard to her celestial power and dominance.

Individual Galloi broods occasionally follow minor rules of organization, some spoken, some not. Unspoken is the fact that Galloi do not operate alone. They almost universally support one another in discrete domains (braving a temporary itinerancy when necessary), for such a collective helps them establish ascendancy within the local Circle. The bloodline also celebrates holidays specific to Cybele. The Galloi tend to celebrate in these festivals and revelries only with each other. Other Acolytes participate in these venerations only by invitation, which can be either easy to obtain or hard to come by depending upon the Pretties’ political or religious agenda. The vampire who orchestrates these ritual celebrations is generally the eldest Galloi in the region, though not always and is called the archigallus. Occasionally the archigallus is simply the Kindred who has carried that responsibility for the longest time, whether new elders have graced the domain or otherwise.

Concepts: Art dealer, burn victim, club owner, dominatrix, Harpy, makeup artist, pawn broker or fence, pimp or madam, public eccentric, record producer, transsexual

Risen from the twisted households of the Austrian aristocracy, the Geheim seem to outsiders equal parts depraved extended family, bizarre esoteric society and cunning aristocrats. Never particularly trusted or popular, the Geheim suffered a public relations fiasco in the 20th century when it (its detractors claim) became involved in the Nazi Party. Tonight the family retains positions of prominence throughout Central Europe, spreading beyond the borders of former Habsburg holdings and bringing their syncretic combination of hedonism and alchemy to the rest of the world.

History and Culture: Scattered throughout the ruling class of the Holy Roman Empire, the rise and fall of the lineage’s fortunes have largely mirrored those of the Habsburg family. Dilettantes claim that the founder of their bloodline, a Kindred known to his contemporaries as Count Geheim of Graz, was Embraced from among the sprawling Habsburg family. While the assertion has proven difficult for members of the line to substantiate, there’s little doubt that Geheim of Graz moved in the same social circles as the Habsburgs, as early as 1480. Personal correspondences among the Habsburgs across the centuries often mention a shadowy teacher or similar figure who matches the accepted description of Geheim. (The fact that these letters and diaries occasionally fawn over Geheim has been interpreted as evidence that he kept some of the writers under the bonds of Vinculum.)

In a ceremony documented by Invictus, Sanctified and Ordo Dracul records of 1577, Geheim and two childer, Cecilia and Volker, formally announced the formation of their bloodline, making a number of claims of entitlement regarding domains within Vienna and Switzerland — claims which they were apparently able to back up, despite the difficulty of travel during the period. Modern detractors point out that several of the locations claimed by the lineage boasted fewer than 1,000 mortals, making them poor possessions for any vampire.

Geheim and his childer had already garnered a reputation for hedonism and excess, having hosted lavish parties for even the most lowly of visiting functionaries. While reports of baths of blood and bodies hanged from rafters are probably exaggerations, few scholars doubt the tales of woozy, blood-drained nobles stumbling to their waiting carriages after a night of debauched intemperance. The bloodline’s status as esoteric dabblers only began to grow after their official declaration in 1577. After acquiring territory in Vienna and Prague, they began hosting salons for the discussion of unusual and esoteric texts. These gatherings, which usually lacked the depraved self-indulgence of their parties, were not limited to attendance by Kindred, and numerous mortals of learning came to be regulars at Geheim soirees. Some Kindred even suspect that a few of the bloodline’s consorts were mages or creatures stranger yet. The lineage prospered, even through the anarchs’ war, somehow gaining new members and territories even as the rest of Kindred society collapsed about them. They became early and energetic advocates of the studies of the Ordo Dracul, assisting that covenant in its mission to find recruits from among the erudite and open-minded members of the Invictus and Lancea Sanctum.

After the Thirty Years’ War however, the Habsburg House entered a centuries-long decline. The Geheim, once one of the most expansive Kindred families in Central Europe, with close ties to a royal line that held much of Europe at its height, found itself deteriorating in influence. The line continued to grow, but the power it had to share among its membership decayed. The esoteric work of the Geheim, once lauded as ground-breaking, became old hat, and while the ability to turn blood into gold kept the bloodline’s coffers fat, their tricks provided them little other help in the Danse Macabre. The group attempted to cope by infiltrating and creating numerous secret societies (a fact that furthered its reputation for witchcraft and infernalism among the Sanctified), utilizing their bloodline Discipline to gain high standing among the mortal adherents to the esoteric.

The most infamous of these organizations was called the Thule Society, created by a group of Germans in the early twentieth century. The group’s focus, the mythological pure race called the Aryans, drew the attention of the Geheim, who felt that exploration into the lost civilization of Thule might provide new sources of mystical strength. The Geheim had little chance to influence the Society before two of its members formed the political group that would grow to become the Nazi Party. While the Nazis renounced and disbanded the Thule Society, rumors of the connection between the Geheim and the Nazis quickly spread through Kindred society. The bloodline found itself less trusted and more loathed than ever before.

Tonight the bloodline still reels from its greatest political blunder, which occurred only recently as some European Kindred reckon history. Its three founding figures have all entered torpor, (though members of the line seem to be preparing to ease the return of Count Geheim himself in the near future) leaving the lineage to flounder listlessly without direction. While many of the eldest cleave to the ideals of the bloodline’s past, continuing studies into the unknown and infiltrating and manipulating the highest strata of mortal society, the youth of the line indulge themselves with an almost apocalyptic fervor. The fall of the traditional aristocracy has resulted in the bloodline becoming more closely associated with organized crime and corporate culture, and some of the line’s newest recruits have been garnered from the ranks of those groups.

Reputation: As their sobriquet suggests, the Geheim have garnered a reputation for failing to fully devote their unlives to any cause. The lineage contains its fair share of spoiled, wealthy Ventrue, many of whom take the bloodline’s philosophy as an excuse to wallow in whatever excesses can hold their attention. The lineage’s deep connections to the aristocracy of Europe garner them only slight esteem and no small amount of derision; the Carthians object to such outdated social structures on principle (plus there’s the whole Nazi thing), while many Invictus feel that the Geheim simply don’t take full advantage of the benefits they are handed. Their love affair with organized crime infuriates the Sanctified (not to mention their study of alchemy, which the Lancea Sanctum generally labels as witchcraft).

Even the Ordo Dracul, the bloodline’s chosen patrons, keep the lineage at arm’s length, viewing their discoveries with no small amount of skepticism. Thus far no one outside of the bloodline has been able to precisely reproduce the Geheim’s results. Most Dragons consider that evidence that the Geheim’s procedures reflect some strange quirk of their blood rather than verifiable scientific or occult principles.

The Geheim tend to join the Ordo Dracul with greater frequency than any other covenant. Not only do the Dragons value the bloodline’s abilities, but their position in the covenant’s history grants them a bit of freedom from the derision they almost universally face from other Kindred. Those who aren’t cut out for the Order’s psychological exercises and bizarre rites often end up with the Invictus, turning the covenant’s resources towards the end of feathering their own nest. Invictus Dilettantes typically make an effort to hide the greatest of their excesses and experimentations. Those who can’t even manage that occasionally fall in with the Circle of the Crone, which allows greater leeway for a vampire hoping to explore the full range of the Kindred experience.

Concepts: Bloodline apologist, debauched celebrant, destitute aristocrat, hidden diablerist, lustful philanthropist, mad chemist, overbearing society matron, silent international business partner, vampire Mafioso, Vitae connoisseur

The Gethsemani are an enigma that brings out the best and worst of the Kindred. Named for the place of Christ’s crucifixion, the bloodline is an offshoot of the Nosferatu that possesses an uncanny ability to cause others to exhibit the wounds suffered by Jesus on the cross. More disturbing, the stigmata that appear on victims seem to be imbued with a portion of divine — or diabolical — power. Those who drink from them gain access to miraculous capabilities. So controversial is the source of the bloodline’s unusual power that member’s find themselves the objects of fanatical devotion or damnation as blasphemous servants of the infernal.

In some domains, these Ecstatics may find quick acceptance, especially if the local Bishop or other authority chooses to recognize the Gethsemani as instruments of the Almighty blessed with the power to recreate the sacred works of Longinus. Even if the Sanctified don’t have a significant presence, a small community of faithful may offer a Gethsemani sanctuary, keeping the ward safe from other vampires. Indeed, keepers’ fanaticism can be so extreme that a Gethsemani’s Requiem is little different than imprisonment. The Gethsemani is followed everywhere in case some miracle occurs on her account, and to forestall any conceivable danger to her person.

Elsewhere, the Lancea Sanctum may look upon the Gethsemani as vile corrupters and seeks to run them from a city, or even destroy them outright. It’s not unheard of for the hysteria around a line member to become so great that a blood hunt is called to cleanse the unholy taint ascribed to this odious spawn of Satan. Only where the Spear is particularly weak and the Kindred in power do not hold a strong opinion one way or the other do Ecstatics find a real measure of personal freedom.

The bloodline has its origins in Europe of the late 16th century, when a pious Nosferatu was so taken by the religious devotion of an elderly nun (who was renowned for having demonstrated stigmata) that he Embraced her, hoping that his own curse might be lifted. Instead, the nun discovered that her saintly touch caused others to suffer ecstasies and bleed as she once had. So inspiring was her passion and the wonders she could perform, she became nothing less than a saint among local undead. Her later canonization by the mortal Church in Rome only increased her Kindred standing.

She became the Archbishop of Florence and established a special monastery for her progeny beneath her old convent in nearby Prato. Choosing only other, mortal stigmatics for the Embrace, her line grew slowly.

Although their numbers are assumed to still be few tonight, the Gethsemani can be found nearly anywhere. Most seem to cleave to their religious origins and accept their role as agents of the divine where they are so received. They maintain the practices taught in the Prato monastery and seek out mortal stigmatics where they can to bolster their numbers.

A growing minority of Gethsemani forsakes such traditions, however. These naysayers consider the Embrace a cruel curse that robbed them of God’s special favor, for which they have in turn cursed those responsible (or at the very least have sought as much distance from them as possible).

Others have simply been subverted by the dark tendencies of their kind, allowing their previously strong religious convictions to be trampled under their addiction to blood, the howl of the Beast, and what they see as the necessities of the Danse Macabre. These disillusioned Kindred no longer place importance on religion or its trappings and see the Lancea Sanctum as more prison than pulpit. No longer sure of God’s role in their Requiem, they cannot fully explain what it is they do, but given the nightly demands imposed on all Kindred, they don’t dwell on it too much. Some of these apostates have joined the Invictus, with its similarities to the Lancea Sanctum, while others have turned to the Ordo Dracul to better understand their nature and perhaps transcend their curse. A rumor circulates that a few have thrown in with the Circle of the Crone, which is not entirely unlikely given the central role blood plays in the covenant’s philosophy. Finally, some whisper that one or more Gethsemani have become members of Belial’s Brood and are influential in that diabolical sect.

Covenant: The Lancea Sanctum claims the lion’s share of Gethsemani, coveting them as saintly figures who must be adored, emulated, idolized and protected from harm in those domains. A Gethsemani may be granted a ridiculous degree of influence that he can easily turn to his advantage. This is the primary reason why most Ecstatics join the covenant, or at least choose to remain within its parochial reach. The downside is that Ecstatics are rarely allowed much freedom, as they are hounded from sundown till sunup by Kindred desperate to be near them, whether to receive some special blessing or out of fanatical devotion. Where the Lancea Sanctum is of lesser standing, Sanctified may be even more smothering, terrified that their unliving saint may come to some harm by non-believers.

Of course, not every scion of Longinus accepts the Gethsemani as specially touched by God. In those infrequent domains where the covenant sees Ecstatics as a danger — to its faith, its political power or both — a Gethsemani’s Requiem can be hellish. Inquisitors seize every chance to harass and perhaps torture an Ecstatic in hopes of demonstrating to all the diabolical nature of the bloodline.

The Invictus typically follows the lead of the Sanctified when it comes to the Gethsemani, though the First Estate is rarely as extreme in its veneration or demonizing. If the Lancea Sanctum has a relatively insignificant presence or if it is openly at odds with the First Estate, the Invictus is likely to suffer a Gethsemani, accepting him as little more than an unusual Nosferatu. For line members not entirely convinced of the virtue of the Sanctified, or who are labeled infernal, the First Estate can offer a suitable welcome. Even so, not even the most apathetic members of the Invictus are so blind as to overlook the instability that an Ecstatic can cause. Covenant members therefore take care to watch over a Gethsemani for any sign that his presence may threaten their power. Rarely is an Ecstatic granted any true political standing, either.

The Carthians are rarely of interest to members of the bloodline. The covenant’s potential lack of hierarchy offers the Gethsemani little protection, and few Carthians are likely to become the kind of adoring devotees that so many Ecstatics count on for support. Only the most apolitical and irreligious of the line are typically drawn to this group.

Gethsemani are creatures of deeply mystical significance, regardless of whoever or whatever else they may be. The Ordo Dracul recognizes this reality, even if the covenant might downplay religious connotations, and takes an active interest in learning more about the lineage. The covenant’s relatively clinical approach to stigmata holds a strong appeal for a minority of Ecstatics. Those individuals can be themselves in such circles, rather than be what’s expected of them.

The Circle of the Crone has its own appeal, too. Blood is central to pagan rituals, and Ecstatics certainly encourage bloodletting. Line members might find sympathy rather than adulation within the covenant, but may also find themselves the objects of rituals rather than participants.

Those Gethsemani who forsake the community and protection of any covenant are rare in the extreme. These few pariahs tend to have lonesome Requiems, pursuing personal goals far from the prying eyes of other Kindred.

Appearance: The Gethsemani are no different physically than other Nosferatu. They suffer the same horrible disfigurements or nauseating demeanors. Most stigmatics hail from cultures where Christianity has had some lasting influence. They’re mainly of European stock or were Embraced in the Americas. Those who are particularly religious tend to dress in a way that reflects their devotion, whether that means rich vestments or the threadbare garb of a pious ascetic. The minority who have fallen from grace dress in whatever fashion best fits their personality and position in Kindred society.

Haven: Where a Gethsemani is treated as an unliving saint, a haven is likely to be provided by her true believers. If followers are few, the haven may be a humble dwelling. If admirers are many, the Gethsemani may enjoy a ridiculously overwrought home, possibly attended by a few zealots who dedicate their Requiems to the Ecstatic’s protection. In either case, the ha-
ven is decorated with appropriate religious paraphernalia, from
small icons, crucifixes and candles to full-blown biblical mu-
rals, exquisite artifacts of precious metal, and possibly even an
ornate throne. Gethsemani who do not enjoy this kind of
adulation or who seek some measure of privacy prefer havens
that do not belie their true nature. Town homes, apartments
and ordinary houses are all possible.

Background: The Gethsemani Embrace only mortals who have demonstrated stigmata at some time in their lives, even if it was only for a brief period. They go to great lengths to discern the veracity of any reports of miracles, relying on Church records of witness testimony and clerical investigation. Because a new childe cannot claim her full inheritance until the potency of her blood is demonstrated (she joins the bloodline), a sire is often unsure of whether a fledgling was a true stigmatic. Only when the postulant’s potency has grown sufficiently can the truth be known.

Those who were not genuine stigmatics in life (victims of the Stigmatica Discipline do not count; their stigmata are not spontaneous) are never able to join the bloodline, remaining ordinary Nosferatu. There is no chance for them to become Gethsemani (though they may seek to join another bloodline in the usual manner). In the case of a true, mortal stigmatic, her long suffering ends upon the Embrace and she never bears the mystical wounds again. The stigmata are now hers to inflict. There are no known cases of vampires displaying genuine, spontaneous stigmata, at least none that have been made common knowledge.

Most childer are of European or American origin, given that most cases of stigmata are concentrated in those regions. It is traditionally accepted that only extremely pious kine can bear stigmata, but there are enough exceptions to conclude that while most Gethsemani were very religious in life, a handful were relatively agnostic and did not accept their experiences as spiritual. Similarly, some who were once paragons of Christian faith did not remain so. All were (and are) still viable as initiates to the bloodline, but the Requiem exacts a terrible toll on a Kindred and Ecstatics are no different. Some turn away from their faith after the Embrace, and a few actually turn against it, cursing God for delivering them into damnation.

Regardless of their beliefs or cultural backgrounds, nearly all Gethsemani feel a heavy loss after becoming the undead. The pain they endured from the stigmata was intense. Even if not considered to be of religious origins, it was supernatural nonetheless and marked them as someone special. This fact was a profound part of their psychology and their identities were permanently tied to their suffering. The hunger that haunts them as Kindred is not quite the same as the agony of the stigmata, no matter how difficult it is to bear. Unlike the stigmata, the hunger can be quenched, even if only temporarily. The agony that came with the wounds could not be. Within a few years of becoming Gethsemani, a Kindred experiences a growing need to reclaim the suffering that once defined them. Before long, he feels emotionally satisfied only through masochistic practices. This self-abuse can be extreme, with flagellation, piercing or even more outrageous self-injury. Sadism is not far away on the spectrum of derangement. A number of Ecstatics find fulfillment in the torment of others. Miracle workers or depraved torturers, the Gethsemani can be truly terrifying.

Character Creation: Given the unpredictability and inexplicability of stigmata and its manifestation in mortals, would-be Gethsemani sires have little choice in whom to choose for the Embrace. No one outlook or skill set is ideal for childer. The line can’t afford to be that choosy. Thus, no particular Attribute and Skill group prevails among Ecstatic characters. Individual Skills can be common, though. Any of Academics, Investigation, Medicine, Occult or Science is often possessed thanks to explorations of who and what stigmatics are. Empathy, Expression, Intimidation and Persuasion can arise from efforts to cope with manifestations and others’ reactions to them.

The Fame and Inspiring Merits may have arisen from days or nights spent reveling in religious conviction or influence. Haven and Retainer may be possessed by a vampire now venerated by followers. And, of course, an extra dot of Blood Potency is required at character creation for a seemingly “ordinary” Nosferatu to be eligible to join the line right away.

Organization: In places where more than a single Gethsemani can be found, the bloodline usually organizes as an exclusive and secretive monastic order within the Lancea Sanctum’s existing hierarchy. The eldest Ecstatic assumes the title of Passionente, essentially the head of the order, and her word is law in the community. This individual is usually one of the Anointed, but rarely assumes the responsibilities of the covenant’s leadership. (There are no reports of Gethsemani Bishops or Cardinals.) The Passionente dedicates herself to inspiring other Kindred to recognize the Testament of Longinus as sacred, and to abandon agnosticism in favor of the doctrine of the Sanctified. The rest of the domain’s Ecstatics perform their sanguine miracles before unbelievers, demonstrating what they claim is the divine power that God has seen fit to bestow upon them, Damned though they may be. The Passionente leads her community in private prayer and oversees opaque rites carried out within the impenetrable privacy of the Gethsemani cloister. Some communities obey strict rules of conduct that can include oaths of silence, blood fasting, a proscription on all light, and assigned labors, the last performed primarily as a show of spiritual devotion. Besides Passionente, other titles may exist, usually created based on the designated role of an Ecstatic, such as the Epistolarian or Tabernacula. In those domains where asceticism is the predominant flavor of worship, Gethsemani titles are typically eschewed.

Line members who have abandoned religion stand outside these communities, left to seek their own places among Kindred however they might. To the rest of the lineage, they are seen as the worst possible traitors, for they have turned their backs on God, who in His mercy has marked them as special among the Damned. For these individuals, there can be no clemency.

As mentioned, rarely do the Gethsemani claim full authority within a domain. This is in large part because the Lancea Sanctum, as much as it might venerate the Ecstatics, also fears them. Covenant leaders do what they can to keep the bloodline from gaining meaningful political authority, concerned that its secretive and tight-knit ways might threaten their own standing. This paranoia is not completely unfounded. Some Gethsemani, particularly where their numbers are significant (three or higher), do indeed seek to enforce upon their fellow Sanctified what they see as acceptable religious policy, feeling that they more than any other Kindred are close to understanding the true Will of God. More than one Passionente has studied the Danse Macabre and has used this mastery to advance her views throughout the Lancea Sanctum. Most are smart enough to do so with cautious subtlety. They’re all too aware of the calamity that might befall them and their followers should their actions be perceived as a direct challenge to the established order. One fearful Priest spreading rumors of infernal rites can bring a quick and merciless end to all that the Gethsemani have accomplished.

The bloodline is understandably concentrated in areas with a rich tradition in Church influence. Cities in Mediterranean Europe and France, parts of North Africa, and North America are the most likely places to find Ecstatics. The largest known population is at the Convent of San Vincenzio in Prato, Italy, where the founder continues to minister to her descendants. Some say as many as a dozen Gethsemani make that place their haven. Outside such gatherings, Ecstatics are itinerant. They’re some of the most devoutly religious members of the bloodline, ready to risk their unlives to pursue God’s work far from the security of their own.

Concepts: Kindred saint, obsequious penitent, visionary hermit, violent iconoclast, suicidal basket case, sideshow miracle-worker, deluded Christ-figure, ritualistic serial killer, inspired artist, diabolical cult leader

History
In 1522, young Alessandra Lucrezia Romola was baptized in a chapel in Florence. For her, life would not take its usual course. God had marked her as his instrument for the duration of her mortal years, and for all those that would follow. Her father, Pier Francesco de’ Ricci, was descended from a long line of wealthy merchants and bankers, but it was her stepmother who instructed her in faith, assuming responsibilities when the girl’s birth-mother died. Fiametta da Diaccetto was fascinated by Alessandra’s habit of spending hours each day in solitary prayer, and did what she could to nourish the child’s sense of devotion.

So certain of her calling, Alessandra declared her desire to join a convent at a very early age. An atmosphere of relative laxity pervaded the monastic orders of the time, however. Alessandra would settle only for a place that demanded the strictest observances, the better to serve God. She found her convent at San Vincenzio, a rigid religious enclave established in 1503 by nine sisters devoted to the teachings of the controversial prophet and reformer Girolamo Savonarola, a Dominican friar whose sermons relied heavily on Revelations and the threat of damnation. From the moment she set foot in the convent, Alessandra’s destiny was clear.

First condemned by the community for the stigmata (or “Ecstasy of the Passion”) that she suffered, Alessandra’s humility and piety eventually won over all around her. She took the new name Catherine de’ Ricci and was appointed to a succession of increasingly important offices, eventually serving as prioress until her departure from the mortal realm on February 2, 1590. Her holiness was such that she was eventually beatified by Clement XII in 1732 and made a saint 14 years later by Benedict XIV. The kine of Tuscany still celebrate her feast on the 13th of February, holding a special mass at the covenant, now called Santa Caterina. Catherine de’ Ricci did pass from the realm of the living, but an unidentified Nosferatu did not allow her to depart from the world. The Haunt had traveled far to gaze upon the prioress, risking all in the hope that her blessing might transform him physically and spiritually. The Requiem was difficult for this misshapen creature. His once-staunch faith had all but fled him, bludgeoned by the demands of unlife and the sinful urges that claimed his trembling, dead flesh. Hearing of Catherine’s miracles, he found his way to the convent, desperate for some final shred of mercy from on High. His devilish talents allowed him to penetrate the inner chambers without disturbing the sisterhood, until he entered the private apartments of the Madre Sanguigna of San Vincenzio. He found her alone and bent in prayer, and such was her holy presence that his deceit failed and he stood before her unveiled, body and soul. Catherine had been waiting for his visit for more than a year, for she had already been made aware by the Holy Spirit of how she would serve next. She had been one of His most heavenly children and now she would be one of his most damned.

To the dismay of Kindred theologians, no further mention of Catherine’s sire is found in scripture or oral history. As he came to her, invisible and unknown, he left her. Some apocryphal texts hint that when he saw that he had Embraced a creature already certain of her place in Hell, he retreated in horror. Unable to face what he had created, he left her and in some cases is said to have destroyed himself at sunrise.

Whatever the case may be, the experience transformed Catherine in more than just the “usual” ways. The suffering that she had lived with for so long was now hers to give with but a touch. Others would come to know the Ecstasy of the Passion as she had, and would be redeemed in their agony. They would come to understand through the stigmata that to be close to God one must first suffer as God. It was her holy purpose to bring others to God, and so she set forth on this labor. She sought kine throughout Europe who were rumored to be ecstatics, testing each until she was pleased with the purity of their wounds. These she Embraced them, sharing the rapture that was already hers and instructing them in the strict monastic rules she established. Her childer stayed with her at Prato, where she oversaw the construction of a subterranean cloister to provide a haven for her new order, the Gethsemani. As in life, she presided over the community, and only those who proved their devotion were allowed to continue her holy purpose in the world outside the walls of San Vincenzio.

Society and Culture
Gethsemani carry on the traditions and mission of Catherine de’ Ricci — respectfully referred to as the Madre Sanguigna — wherever they’re found (with the exception of those who have turned away from their religious origins, of course). The bloodline is both a family and monastic order, and is therefore unusually tight-knit. The Passionente is father and mother to his community. In places where the Lancea Sanctum is not particularly influential, the Passionente may even serve as the highest spiritual authority among the Gethsemani.

Nothing is done without permission of the local elder of the line, who dictates the precise rules for the group. All observances and proscriptions are his to decide, and in many cases can be quite harsh. Few Nosferatu not sired by an Ecstatic ask to join the bloodline; fewer still have the bona fides required. One has to have been a true stigmatic in life. Two to four Gethsemani is typical when they are found together at all. When procreation is forbidden or difficult, an Ecstatic is prone to recruit ghouls from the ranks of stigmatics, instead. Even so, the deficit of actual stigmatics in a world where faith has largely evaporated means that few congregations ever number more than a half-dozen members, Kindred or ghoul.

The strict rules promulgated by the Passionente regulate nearly every aspect of a Gethsemani’s Requiem. Feeding is particularly restricted. Kine are often brought to a convent where they serve as blood dolls, providing sustenance even as they serve as subjects for repeated use of Stigmatica. Vessels are usually so overwhelmed by the repeated experience of inhuman pleasure and pain that accompanies their blood loss that they cannot be allowed to return to the day-lit world. Most survive only a few years before their bodies collapse under the tremendous physical and emotional abuse. By tradition, Gethsemani are permitted to drink their fill only at scheduled times, commonly an hour after sunset, at midnight and an hour before sunrise. These are communal feedings; an Ecstatic in a community may feed elsewhere or at other times only with special dispensation. Individuals abroad feed alone, of course, but at the prescribed hours.

Clothing is also governed by rules set forth by the local Passionente. All members in a domain might be required wear a similar outfit, perhaps a simple robe or something more elaborate. Other times, rules might proscribe certain particularly offensive elements of fashion, such as wearing of anything on the head. Language may be regulated, with one convent requiring use of Italian for all conversation, while another may actually disallow any speech, perhaps providing an hour’s reprieve once each night. Gethsemani can be restricted in what they may possess, as well. In very rigid environments, ownership of even a book might be a violation. In general, the community relishes this kind of self-denial and structure. Although members are Damned, religious structure presumably brings them closer to God. This does not mean there isn’t regular disobedience, only that it is usually in the form of minor illicitness, not wholesale rebellion.

The 2nd night of February is celebrated by the bloodline to venerate the Embrace of the Madre Sanguigna. In most domains, Gethsemani go to great lengths to fortify themselves for the all-night mass known as the Passion of the Damned. From dusk till dawn, they abandon all restraint and visit all manner of abusive horrors on themselves, fellow Ecstatics and on hapless kine gathered for the occasion. It’s a night of unimaginable pain and pleasure, not to mention bloodletting. The use of Stigmatica is crucial to the experience, as blood from victims’ wounds is imbued with a power that fuels even greater ecstasy. Few kine survive the night, and it is not unknown for line members to fall into torpor during the Passion. Some have even been destroyed, so great was their suffering.

Not every Ecstatic spends her waking hours in meditative prayer, menial labor or masochistic exultation. In an increasing number of cities, community rules are quite relaxed, possibly even informal and left to the discretion of each individual Gethsemani. A Passionente is still recognized and his word is still binding, but that’s because he chooses not to apply strictures to each Gethsemani’s Requiem. Ascetics, hermits and “reformed” Ecstatics are likely to apply a light hand to their communities, putting emphasis on practice and mystical understanding of Stigmatica rather than on governance. This lenience leaves a Gethsemani to do as she pleases so long as she doesn’t blatantly violate a Passionente’s general instructions. She is free to congregate with other Kindred, pursue personal affairs and even become involved in the mire that is Kindred politics. This is especially true where Gethsemani presence is minimal. Here, one can capitalize on the curiosity and fervor of other Kindred and make a place for oneself. Of course, an Ecstatic may still remain a pious devotee to the Madre Sanguigna. The individual is just outside a community of her own kind.

Regardless of the Requiem of a given Gethsemani, all conduct themselves with care. Not so much to avoid falling from the path of holy purpose, but to avoid theever-present dangers posed to figures of such religious controversy. Even where she is adored, the wise Ecstatic keeps her true nature known only to those she can trust. She may have a congregation of devotees and admirers, but outside this circle she typically presents herself as nothing other than a particularly spiritual Nosferatu.

Too many Kindred eye Stigmatica and its practitioners with measured skepticism. Even if they do not see it as a blasphemy to be crushed, they might easily spread word of Gethsemani to those who would. Most Ecstatic groups are therefore advertised to other Kindred as nothing more than unusually private coteries of strong religious persuasion. Many remain entirely hidden within the hierarchy of the Lancea Sanctum, obfuscating their nature to avoid the kind of response that sometimes arises from detractors. This secrecy is even more important to lone Gethsemani who have no community to turn to for protection. A solitary member is likely to be exceptionally private, practicing Stigmatica only when he is sure to be safe from prying eyes.

They are ancient and new again. They are the old and the young. They are regal and they are filthy.

Gorgons claim descent directly from the immortal gorgons, Stheno, Euryale and the infamous Medusa, the mythological monster herself. As the Gorgons tell it, Medusa an ancient vampire Embraced by the gods, such that her blood was a mix of the earthly and godly. When she perished at the hands of Perseus, her body was fed upon by her ladies-in-waiting, who were lowly, terrestrial vampires but nonetheless queens among their kind. These were the fi rst of the Gorgon bloodline of the Kindred.

In the ancient nights, before the Camarilla rose or fell, the Gorgons were monarchs among the Damned. They ruled the nighttime palaces of numerous Mediterranean cities, spreading this brilliance and authority as far as Turkey, Egypt and Iberia. For centuries they were loved, celebrated and feared among their kind.

What caused their glory to wane is unclear. Some blame the waning power of the Olympian gods. Others point to the gradual collapse the human civilizations on which Kindred society was built. Whatever the true cause, a near-extinction of the Gorgons took place as rival Roman bloodlines swept in and conquered the Gorgons’ cities. Those Gorgons who survived slipped into the earth to wait out the ages.

After the fall of the Camarilla and the Roman Empire, the Gorgons emerged again, crawling through the cracked floors of the Byzantine cities that had sprawled over their heads. For decades the Gorgons flitted about among the illustrious pillars of human and Kindred society in Constantinople and throughout the Mediterranean. In time, they spread to the west, seeking out palaces and hidden havens in the empty vaults beneath the earth of what would one night be Italy, France and Spain.

It was during these nights that the Gorgons first allied themselves with the Circle of the Crone, they say. These serpentine queens seemed to be a natural fit, as the undead descendents of demigods, and soon Gorgons were fi gureheads in a handful of Acolyte domains.

But it didn’t last. Within a few decades, most of the Gorgons disappeared again. By the time of the Renaissance they had vanished from Europe. Accounts of Gorgons still haunting Kindred courts in the Near East were thought to be legend.

Where had the Gorgons gone? What had driven them off — or lured them away?

In the 19th century, Gorgons emerged once again into the glittering lights of Kindred society. But were these the same Gorgons, from the same bloodline, as those who had been ambassadors for the Acolytes hundreds of years ago? Were these the same that had ruled Kindred cities in ages past?

Modern Gorgons claim that they are, in fact, the same bloodline, suspended in places, it’s true, but unbroken yet from the day of Medusa’s death to this night. Who can say if this is true? Whether modern Gorgons are a new Medusa-idolizing family of the undead or an ancient lineage of demigod daughters, they are here now.

In the past hundred years or so, the Gorgons have taken their association with the Circle of the Crone for granted. Though many Gorgons came onto the scene in the 1800s expecting to fi nd that the Acolytes had saved their seats for them, the truth is that the modern nights have much more appeal for these Damned debutantes than the appeal of dead goddesses and hungry gods. For the Gorgons, ancient gods are old hat, after all — just a part of the family tree. As Lords by blood, Gorgons are more interested in reclaiming stature and authority, in bringing cities back under their rule.

The modern approach of these Gorgons casts a great deal of doubt on the legends of the ancient Gorgons, however. Tonight’s Gorgons seem to have little interest in genuine power and authority. Instead, many seem content to be puppets for real politicos just so long as they can keep their posh suites and sit on the thrones that they feel are rightly theirs.

Sister Bloodlines and Houses

Two other Kindred lineages associate themselves with the Gorgon bloodline’s interpretation of their familial myth. These are not mystic bloodlines — they incur no additional weakness and unlock no unique Disciplines — but are simply Ventrue families that exalt the mythological gor- gons. These two families draw their names from the immortal sisters of Medusa, Stheno and Euryale.

The defining quality of each family is their dedi- cation to mastering mystical physical powers of the Damned from other clans. The Stheno family learns Vigor as a matter of custom, while the Euryale line studies Celerity. Historically, Stheno is known as “the strong” and Euryale as “the wide-ranging.”

Kindred of other familial lines and clans who serve Gorgon masters (be they Princes, Regents or something else) may associate themselves with the Stheno or the Euryale “houses,” provided they can demonstrate proficiency with vampiric strength or speed, and thereby be of some use to their Gorgon leaders. In game terms, the Stheno and Euryale families may grant some characters access to City or Clan Status through their mastery of Vigor or Celerity. In this case, such characters can gain Status dots equal to their dots in Vigor or Celerity minus one, provided they promise to serve their patron family in time of need. Such service might include:

• Three nights of protection (or battle) to an elder per month.
• Two tastes of Vitae for an elder.
• 300 miles of travel per year for deliveries, errands, escorts and scouting.
• 300 hours of manual labor without pay each year.

THE SISTER FAMILIES AS BLOODLINES

If it suits the chronicle, the Stheno and the Euryale could be made into mystic bloodlines easily enough. Simply impose the Gorgon bloodline weakness on each and grant the family’s celebrated Discipline — Vigor or Celerity — as their fourth Discipline. Some individual members of the Stheno or Euryale families might even be members of these “true” bloodlines without Kindred society at large even knowing it.

Covenant:
Though the Gorgon bloodline is supposedly much older than the Circle of the Crone, it owes its modern incarnation to the covenant and its members do not forget it. Gorgons, in the few cities where they do reside, are nobility among the Acolytes. Their infamous, even legendary, blood grants them a great deal of celebrity within the covenant. Often, thanks to the Gorgons’ propensity for posturing and attention getting, this celebrity extends well outside the covenant, too.

Celebrity isn’t the same as respect. Gorgons may achieve great Status within the Circle of the Crone, but they are not truly more likely to do so than any other Ventrue. What a Gorgon’s celebrity does afford her is a valuable visibility, which can be useful to any covenant. Though, typically, most Gorgons with ties to other covenants operate more as Acolyte lobbyists than actual members of other covenants, Gorgons have avoided sparking a backlash against the disloyality of individual Medusas. Noteworthy Gorgons exist in every covenant — especially the Invictus and the Ordo Dracul — from Moscow to London and Amsterdam to Cairo. Though she is the only Gorgon most of her kin can cite, one noteworthy Medusa even became a Bishop of the Lancea Sanctum in Constantinople in the 18th century. (This Medusa, if she ever truly existed, has been in torpor since at least 1780, however.)

In the Americas, the Gorgon bloodline is not only rarer but more strict in its loyalty. Common speculation is that the distance of the Gorgon heyday in both years and miles has given American Gorgons a monumental prestige among New-World Acolytes that is too fervent to risk betraying. In North America, especially, Gorgons are seen as too emblematic of the Circle of the Crone to be allowed into the service of other covenants. Naturally, a few Gorgons still manage to mix among the glitterati of the American Invictus, either by hiding their loyalty or their lineage.

Appearance:
Gorgons draw their members from throughout the world. Despite what many Acolytes think, it seems that most of the world’s Gorgons come from North Africa and Persian lands, with the rest of the Mediterranean trailing behind. Gorgons throughout history have been male and female, but tonight the echoes of academic feminism keep male membership low; few try to join the lineage, fewer still are accepted.

Many Gorgons present themselves with an odd mix- ture of peasantry and pageantry, wealth and filth. A clean white dress gets thrown on over skin caked with mud. Precious jewelry decorates dirty hair. Though some Gorgons consider themselves masterful enchantresses and benders of mortal will, few position themselves outside the reach of “earthly souls” or common folk. They hunt where there’s dirt and relax where there’s not.

No one thinks of the Gorgon line without thinking of snakes. In practice, however, Gorgons don’t dress themselves in cobras. Instead, a single viper coils around one arm, appearing almost like jewelry, or an asp bites its own tail around a Medusa’s neck. All this supposes the Gorgon is able to find a snake worth showing off to other Kindred, and risking mortal attention for.

Wearing a snake in the hair is a privilege for elder Gorgons or Medusas with some status in the Circle of the Crone. A young or unimportant Gorgon with a snake in her hair is liable to be labeled ignorant, an upstart or a poseur. This isn’t some familial policy, it’s custom. A Gorgon can get away with wearing a so-called serpentine crown when her peers and her betters let her do it without hassle or shame.

Haven:
Most Gorgons nest less like their monstrous namesake snake-women and more like the Ventrue they are. Secure marble rooms in cold but richly appointed penthouses are more common than caves. Still, one common thread seems to run through the spaces beloved by many Gorgons: stone. Gorgons seem to prefer the security of solid rock, whether it’s marble, cement, flagstone or brick. The seams of polished concrete condos may hide the secret doors leading to sunless crypts. The light-proof insides of renovated chimneys hide coffin-sized nests. Marble columns contain secret spiral staircases leading down to gloomy grottos.

Rumor has it that Gorgons let poisons snakes wander freely in their havens, and at least a few well-known account give credence to those tales. Whether the rumors are true because its an old Gorgon tradition or whether modern Gorgons have taken up the practice since hearing the rumors seems impossible to verify. What’s known is that Gorgon havens in dank but elegant forgotten subway stations are likely to be prowled by asps, while the constrictor snakes coiled around the cold, raw metal girders in that Gorgon’s posh loft space are probably real.

Thus, for Gorgons, Haven Security often amounts to the raw strength of stone materials — though it might also represent the peril of encountering hidden vipers. Haven Size is important to Gorgons, who want the freedom to move about (and also hide) in their lairs. Haven Location may be important to some, but more for the prestige of residing within striking distance of coveted real estate (by Kindred reckoning). One well-known Gorgon, at least, met her Final Death by taking too much pride in the haven she kept in a choice feeding ground in Paris — it burned with her inside in 1956.

Background:
The majority of modern Gorgons are of Mediterranean descent, regardless of which continent they call home personally. The vast majority of Gorgons are women. These two characteristics are mistakenly thought by many to be inescapable facets of the bloodline, either because the Medusas are sexist elitists or because the mystic qualities of their blood simply won’t take effect among males or those not distantly descended from the Olympian gods. Both notions are rubbish. Gorgons may be of any race and either gender. Reports from a series of Kindred nomads in the 1990s suggested that a mix of male and female Gorgons are largely in control of the Primogen in Accra, Ghana, for example.

Gorgons also share an insatiable desire for both attention and privacy. On the one hand, when they’re out in the night playing their part in the Danse Macabre, Gorgons starve for affection and attention. Some Gorgons are disgusting fame whores whose sole qualification for celebrity is wealth or shameless posturing. Others are elegant, dignified diplomats whose poise and measured behavior could make a bowling alley seem classy.

On the other hand, Gorgons are fiercely protective of their private spaces, where they lure their most precious vessels for fatal visits. Many Gorgons are, in fact, degenerate recluses, dwelling like asps in a pit rather than towering proudly like king cobras.

To want to join this bloodline, a person must have the desire to be a social ambassador or queen among orgiastic nobles, and yet the hidden capacity to be a filthy, monstrous hermit. Thus most modern Gorgons are indulgent, hedonistic and shallow party monsters who secretly despise those less beautiful or hip, just as they secretly despise themselves, who are so often hideous within.

Character Creation:
Social traits are almost always primary for a Medusa, with Mental traits a close second. Social Merits are especially valuable here. Barfly and Contacts can be excellent descriptors of a Gorgon’s widespread but shallow social relationships, while Herd describes the entourage of empty designer shirts that flit after a Gorgon’s cheap celebrity. Resources are essential to the Gorgons as well, though some Medusas weren’t born heiresses or royalty. Once accepted into the bloodline by a Gorgon Avus, however, every Medusa becomes wealthy to some extent, even if only by staying within the aura of thoughtless excess that radiates from the older Gorgons. As all Gorgons are the heiresses of Medusa, all expect to be truly wealthy one night.

Organization:
Gorgons have little organization among themselves other than a generally elitist cliquishness. Most Gorgons have a sense of entitlement stemming from their lineage that drives them to associate themselves with only the most prominent, influential or coveted Kindred. Being brought into the Gorgon bloodline is something like being welcomed into a flock of popular girls — as a Gorgon you “don’t talk to people like them” and “don’t feed from their kind.” The Gorgons are, then, like the bitchy sorority matriarchs of some domains. Elder Gorgons and richer Gorgons have a de facto power over their kin, who may be regarded as little sisters or token ugly friends.

In other domains, however, the prestige and exclusivity of the Gorgons is both genuine (in that other Kindred truly do fawn over them) and deserved. These Gorgons are at the center of high-status coteries or in positions of authority because they are extremely capable and, in turn, attract other capable monsters into their orbit. These are the real heiresses of the bloodline, the ones for home nobility is matter of action, not of association. Elder Gorgons in these groups not only have power, but are bestowed more of it through the deference of their younger sisters, who may be regarded as students or ladies in waiting.

It has not been lost on many modern Acolytes that the essence of the Gorgon’s identity is no longer based primarily on faith, but ancestry and appearances.

Concepts: Care-free heiress, crazy old wise-woman, exotic foreign firebrand, fearless corporate maven, high-priced elite assassin, Lady MacBeth with snakes, legendary monster behind the Prince, Mean Girl, seductive evil queen, self-important demagogue, skanky hard-drinking fashionista

For a few, rare Daeva, the seemingly wealthy realms of sight, sound and touch remain empty of promise, unable to satisfy the Daeva’s unique lusts. The most perfectly formed human figure, the most hauntingly melodic ostinato or the purest Xian silk offer these hedonists nothing in comparison to that which they crave. Even the flavor of the most exquisite Vitae, while certainly welcome, is only an echo of the one thing that can calm the special hunger within. These Succubi would forgo all of these luxuries, if they could, if only they could possess and consume the essential scent of all things, most especially things of the living variety.

For this legendary bloodline, odor is all that matters. Cursed with a sense of olfactory perception so acute that no scent can escape their notice, these Kindred are unable to deny themselves the ecstasy they experience by consuming certain scents. Of course, while many odors of interest might fascinate these peculiar vampires for hours on end, none is as arousing as that produced by the living. The hunger that compels most Kindred to fixate on the fl avor of still-warm blood spilling down their throats gives way to a similarly insurmountable need to savor the aroma of that blood instead. In a fashion not unlike a wine connoisseur relishing a new vintage, the Gulikan try to draw from Vitae every last drop of its aromatic soul, before they fi nally drink out of necessity.

While the Gulikan have an astonishing facility for detecting and recognizing scents, a singular talent for producing scents surpasses this ability. Certainly, such sensualists are capable of creating aromas that would put mortals in a similar line of work to shame, but the Gulikan’s possession of the means to capture and exploit the essential scent and supernatural power of Kindred Vitae has made this bloodline a legend among the Damned.

The Gulikan (roughly translated as “rose-blooded”) first appeared on the bustling market streets of Constantinople. Five years after the Great Schism between the Byzantine and Latin Churches, a Daeva named Eumathius offered as a gift to a deathless luminary a pomade that exuded an almost undetectable scent that caused others nearby to act as if held sway by the potency of the elder’s blood. Eumathius went on to produce other aromatic products for the ancient vampire as well as for various Primogen and other prestigious Kindred; these scented products became nothing less than symbols of status in undead society.

Unsurprisingly, Eumathius became an extremely influential figure in his own right. What his clients did not recognize until too late was that the numerous pomanders, oils, balms, soaps, powders and perfumes produced did not actually enhance the seductive power of the wearer. Rather, they extended the range and insidiousness of Eumathius’ own supernatural irresistibility. Unlike the Vitae of other Kindred, the potency of Eumathius’ own Vitae could be inhaled as well as consumed.

A seducer extraordinaire, Eumathius’ used proprietary Daeva charms as well, causing Kindred and kine alike to fall prey to the master Perfumer’s personal charisma. Countless mortals, including many thought to be the puppets and loyal playthings of other Kindred, as well as a dozen or more Kindred important in their own right, became Eumathius’ unwitting thralls.

Using his new-found dominance, Eumathius succeeded in winning permission to create a brood of his own, one that inherited its founder’s unusually aromatic Vitae as well as the inability to resist tracking down and relishing particularly captivating scents. For more than a century, the Perfumer and his rose-blooded offspring relished their place in society, all the while expanding the scope of their regency by luring more individuals into their invisible traps.

The Gulikans’ ruses came to a near end when Eumathius’ own weakness led him to violate the Prince’s law, breaking the Masquerade in a fashion that was certain to earn the Perfumer a judgment of Lextalionis. He did not meet Final Death, however. Using all his guile and discipline, the master of fragrances managed to replace the Prince’s favorite tobacco with one of Eumathius’ own construction. By the time Eumathius appeared before his sovereign to answer for his crime, the Prince was already so entranced by the specially prepared shisha that he dealt with the accused in a manner that stunned his advisors. The verdict left the Perfumer in a position that enabled him to continue exerting his unseen influence on his peers.

Tonight, the Gulikan continue to toil away in the same tangle of streets that once housed the greatest concentration of renowned perfumers in the world. Modern-day Istanbul is quite a different place from the magnificent city it once was, but, for the Gulikan, it remains home.

Their aromatic wares are no longer limited to only the local market, however. Tonight, high-ranking Kindred in Elysiums across the globe prize Gulikan aromatics. Those Kindred who purchase Gulikan products are well aware of the source of their power, but given their purchasers’ distance from the source and the great unlikelihood that they will ever encounter the actual perfumer who produced the goods, the Kindred feel safe enough to use the scented goods in order to profit from their legendary efficacy. A cologne that makes even the most intransigent mortals want to surrender their blood to a Kindred certainly has its value, even if the suicidal urge ultimately derives from another vampire’s Vitae.

A few Gulikan have actually turned their backs on their traditional trade and found their niche exploiting the small advantage that accompanies their horrid weakness. Offering their services as bounty hunters to Sheriffs and other Kindred needing to track down the living and unliving, these Gulikan command exceptional fees, and deservedly so. Those who choose this line of work dwell nearly anywhere, ever on the trail of someone who crossed the wrong vampire. The extraordinary exploits of a few of these Bloodhounds have only further cemented the bloodline’s legendary standing, making them as feared and yet as indispensable as any of the Damned.

Covenant:
As most Daeva, the Gulikan are most commonly found among the ranks of the Invictus. The First Estate produces the bulk of the Gulikans’ customers, and the Perfumers are most comfortable among these elite, able to profit both from the sale of their wares and the hidden web of thralls that they weave nightly. Powdered, oiled and garbed in only the most expensive, scented wardrobe, these olfactory wunderkinds are as much a part of the Danse Macabre as any who want to climb the Invictus ladder. If more than one Gulikan makes his home in the same domain, the competition is fierce. Nothing poses as great a threat to a Gulikan’s plans as another Perfumer who plies her own goods in the hope of wielding power over the local Kindred. Consequently, each Gulikan seeks to gain as many allies in the Invictus as possible in order to win over the competitor’s customers and pawns. Only in Istanbul, where the bloodline is strongest and established rules of competition based on ancient guild customs exist to govern their practices, do Gulikan suffer each other’s co-existence.

In some domains, the Lancea Sanctum is an attractive alternative to the Invictus. The Sanctified make use of incense and other perfumed products for a variety of purposes, giving a cautious Perfumer a chance to sway an entire congregation. The only downside can be a rigorous set of obligations that demand precious time better spent perfecting the next scented concoction.

The Ordo Dracul has few Perfumers among its number. For most, the outlook of the Ordo Dracul is far too esoteric, and the limitations on to whom the Gulikan may market their wares and in what capacity are all too commonplace.

The Carthian Movement is popular with those Gulikan who adopt the Requiem of a bounty hunter. The nature of Carthian politics allows the Gullikan to pursue prey that might otherwise be off-limits due to their social connections.

Until recently, the Circle of the Crone has never been a popular destination for the rose-bloodedy. In the past half-century, the Perfumers have taken a sudden interest, finding in Crúac a possible means to greatly expand on the possibilities inherent in their own special Discipline.

Appearance:
Despite their parent clan’s infatuation with physical beauty, the beauty of scent draws the Gulikan to their future childer. Many Gulikan select their progeny literally with eyes closed. Others, of course, rarely ever discern these distinguishing odors and judge the Perfumers on visual appearance first. For this reason, and for no other, most Gulikan at least make an effort to appear to fit in with their chosen peers, whether powdered and diamond-draped Harpies or a rustic congregation of Sanctified White Robes. Those whose Requiems consist primarily of playing bloodhound tend to be the exceptions, caring little if anything about appearance. For these Gulikan, their own hedonistic expeditions into the invisible world of aroma leading them to their prey matters far more than what the Gulikan wear or others’ opinions of them.

AN EVER-PRESENT SCENT
A habit that truly sets the Gulikan apart from other Kindred is sniffing. Kindred do not breathe, but the Gulikan habitually sniff the air in order to detect every odor they can. So ingrained is this practice, due to their bloodline’s weakness, a Gulikan make a concerted attempt to stop this activity for longer than a few moments. A successful Resolve + Composure roll allows the Gulikan to stop sniffing for a full scene, so long as he does not speak during that time. Any use of speech requires the Gulikan to inhale and expend air, a sensation that makes it impossible for the rose-blooded to resist sampling any passing scents.

Naturally, this habit, along with the Gulikan’s legendary status, makes it nearly impossible for the Gulikan to mask their identity most of the time. Some Kindred might eventually be able to put two and two together and recognize the incessantly sniffing vampire for what he is. Among the kine, this habit can also prove troublesome, as police officers, as well as many ordinary citizens, especially those in the underworld and those who live on the streets, will assume that the Gulikan uses cocaine or some other inhaled substance.

The fact that the Gulikan may visibly savor the odors they encounter only makes these weird hedonists that much more noteworthy, further complicating their Requiems.

Haven:
Perfumers need proper space to produce their wares, not only in terms of actual square footage and security but in terms of geography. In times past, Perfumers were primarily located in districts where the atrocious aromas wafting from the maceration vats and distillation tanks, not to mention the simple stores of herbs, oils and other pungent ingredients, would not disturb those with the wealth and influence to cause economic harm, the same people who consumed the Perfumers’ products with unremitting fervor. Even Gulikan who possess the most technologically advanced equipment still have no desire to draw undue attention should a spill or other accident take place. The smallest of inadvertent releases could result in all kine within 10 blocks to come swarming to the supernatural aphrodisiac!

Consequently, those rose-blooded who pursue Ortam almost always locate their havens in the Barrens, far from prying eyes and noses, as a precaution. They usually select large spaces, in order for the resident Gulikan to be as distant from the fires and heat needed in his work, with the personal sleeping chamber typically fireproofed, just in case. Intruders will be hardpressed to resist being overcome by the powerful fumes — from the sickly saccharine to the utterly noxious — that assault them upon entering a Gulikan’s haven, which is more laboratory than workshop. The master will require a constant supply of ingredients that are unavoidably used up with each use of Ortam.

Gulikan working as Bloodhounds have no need of such quarters but still prefer to bed down far from the wash of human odors that drenches most of the city, in order to keep temptation at bay as much as possible. Of course, when hunting, Bloodhounds dive into that sea of sweat, fl atulence, rotting food, soiled garments and every other source of human effluvia in order to indulge as only Gulikan might.

Background:
Although a childe is ultimately selected because she possesses a scent that the sire must claim for his own, only the dimmest Perfumer would adopt as his apprentice an individual whose wits leave something to be desired. Ortam is as much a technical exercise as an art. A prospective childe must master fundamental mathematics, a broad knowledge of herbs and related chemistry and an ability to carefully balance all the ingredients in a way that produces the exact result desired. Therefore, a childe’s merit depends not merely on her ability to be a companion or thing of desire but also on her potential as an exceptional student and useful assistant to the sire. College graduates, some skilled laborers and those with a demonstrated flair for creative prowess are highly prized.

Many Gulikan still harbor ancient biases and also prefer their protégés to be of a middle- or upper-class upbringing, ensuring that the fledgling will be able to fit in well with the bloodline’s usual patrons. In Istanbul, most who are Embraced are also of local birth, with mortal bloodlines stretching far back into the city’s earliest nights. Beyond the Bosporus, this degree of pedigree becomes less important. Bloodhounds who sire tend to focus much more on survival skills and take as their childer cops, streetwise types and even mortal bounty hunters, guaranteeing that the new vampires can hit the ground running. A fledgling Bloodhound’s will not have access to the acute olfactory ability of the bloodline until his blood is potent enough,; until then, he must rely on far more mundane means of tracking.

Character Creation: It almost goes without saying that Gulikan who fill the traditional role of Perfumer are best served by having at least some capability in Crafts, specializing in Perfume Manufacture. Similarly, Intelligence and Manipulation are both crucial for the ambitious character, enabling her to not only excel in producing effective aromatic wares but also in surviving and mastering the complex Danse Macabre. Bloodhound characters will want to emphasize investigative and combat abilities. Investigation, Brawl and a high Wits and Composure are essential boons to finding and capturing prey.

Mechanics aside, every player should put some effort into imagining the World of Darkness from the perspective of one who literally “sees” with her nose, rather than her eyes. Imagine the smell of rain-soaked pavement, the foul stench of trash Dumpsters, the acrid burn of fear, the reek of unwashed humanity, the scent of gunpowder and, of course, the tang of mortal blood. Numerous tricks, from closing one’s eyes during the game to burning incense or scented candles, can be helpful. To play a Gulikan requires some understanding of just how different the world is when odor, not form, defi nes that world.

Organization:
Traditionally, the bloodline is organized in a way not unlike a medieval guild, with masters, journeymen and apprentices. A master is technically any member who has learned the fifth level of Ortam. Once the Gulikan achieves this accomplishment, he customarily relocates to another city so as to not jeopardize the monopoly held by his former master, usually his sire.

A journeyman are a step below this august rank and is deemed to be any Gulikan who has demonstrated the third level of Ortam. Because journeymen represent potential competitors, sires often withhold knowledge of the third level of this Discipline for extended periods of time. This often forces the least of the bloodline, the apprentices, to leave their original masters in search of others more open to their apprentices’ advancement.

Given the small size of the lineage, this structure gives the Gulikan a sense of community that crosses the globe, a situation that promotes the sale of Ortam wares far from a Gulikan’s home domain. For example, a journeyman in one place sells an item he is yet incapable of producing. He contacts a master Perfumer in a far-off place and acts as the middleman, selling the master’s products in his own domain, sending most, but not all, of the profits back to the more learned Gulikan. In addition, the journeyman might provide the master information about the buyer, usually for an additional cut of the profits, so that, one night, the master use as he pleases the influence he has acquired over the oblivious customer.

Gulikan in Istanbul observe this organization rigorously; elevation to the next rank, particularly to master, comes with great ceremony. Elsewhere, such formalities often enjoy far less obedience, though any Gulikan who wish to advance their understanding of Ortam never entirely ignore the formalities.

Only the Bloodhounds dare to turn their backs on the long-standing customs of the bloodline. Bloodhounds need only their own company and someone willing to provide their few wants in exchange for unprecedented tracking services.

Concepts: Avant-garde artist, creepy assassin, drug lab scientist, dutiful bloodhound, fashionista, iron-fisted perfume empire matriarch, leather-clad biker, New Age hippie, respectable member of the gentry, reverent priest

It’s common knowledge among the Sanctified of Europe that Icarians trace their origin back to one of the most revered leaders the covenant has ever seen: Icarius, Archbishop of Naples, pilgrim to the Black Abbey and Anointed by the hand of the Monachus. In 1388, Archbishop Icarius was attacked while he slept and diablerized by a vengeful Succubus (see p. 38). She then took control of the city. Three nights later, vampires of the Lancea Sanctum, rallied by the childer of Icarius, brought her down, and the progeny of the Archbishop declared themselves the heirs to his magnificent rule.

In the centuries that followed, the Icarians cultivated their combination of religious fervor, famed blood and validated vengeance into a belief that the scions of Icarius — who they call the Great Archbishop — are blessed by God with a divine right to rule the Damned. Icarian “divine heirs” strode throughout Mediterranean Europe from the fifteenth through the seventeenth centuries, displacing dozens of Princes and Archbishops and replacing them with Icarian rulers. The scions of Icarius, seen by the larger body of the Lancea Sanctum as heretical usurpers with no regard for the covenant hierarchy, lost momentum as the image of the noble-blooded Dynast, wronged and grieving faded beneath self-righteous claims of heavenly inheritance. As more and more cities faced the so-called “Icarian Heresy” with outright force, the Dynasts relented. They kept whatever cities they had claimed by right, but sought no others for many decades.

Some elders who were close to the medieval Icarians claim the death of Icarius marked the birth of the bloodline, that the blood of his childer was changed by fevered vengeance, not by God. Icarians insist, however, that their line has held its own supernatural powers since Icarius Embraced his first childe. The surge of new Icarians practicing the heritage’s rare Discipline is merely the result of many dozens of childer rushing to fill the impossible void left by their departed father.

Icarians truly believe they are meant to rule the Damned as pious and noble lords, with the blood of the Great Archishop as their license. In past nights, they saw themselves as holy political crusaders, restoring the thrones of Kindred domains to the Icarian Archbishops that God intended to govern them. That some stubborn Princes, blind to the sanguineous grace of the Dynasts, had to be burned out of their seats was a regrettable shame, but how could the Dynasts — or any of the Sanctified — tolerate a pretender on the throne?

Since the end of the Icarian Heresy, generally marked by the bloodline’s failed attempt to win Avignon in 1724, Dynasts have reevaluated their philosophies and tactics. If the Sanctified regard the childer of Archbishop Icarius as self-aggrandizing heretics, how can there ever be a secure and beloved union between an Icarian Archbishop and her vassals?

The Icarian solution is calculated, well-reasoned and insidious. The Dynasts have come to understand that they must reclaim their good name through many years of pious service and demonstrations of skill. The Icarians plan to join the ranks of the Anointed, fill municipal roles in favor of the Sanctified and use their supernatural talents to benefit sitting Princes and Archbishops. They will prove that they are meant to rule. The modern mantra of the Icarians is this: “An Icarian serves to rule.” As the Dynasts see it, that sentence signifies the Icarian destiny of rulership, their commitment to scale the ladders of hierarchy and their acknowledgement that they must first support the current Princes of the Damned.

That said, every Icarian is looking for a short-cut to the control of her local domain. A new, peacefully ascended Dynast Prince or Archbishop could truly prove that only the Icarians are meant to speak for the Sanctified and govern the Damned. And if peaceful ascension is not possible, an Icarian is entitled to do what is necessary to climb those final few steps. When the Icarians win new power, all the other Kindred shall see the truth. When the Icarians can gain control of the city without losing the favor of the Kindred, then shall they be loved.

Covenant: The roots of the Icarian bloodline reach deep into the history of the Lancea Sanctum and few Dynasts have much reason to leave their holy origins. Some, however, stifled by the demands of religious strictures on one side and the demands of a Prince on the other, feel not just rooted in the covenant, but trapped beneath it. Others feel the Lancea Sanctum’s long memory, and the unhappy memory of the Icarian Heresy, will forever limit Icarian power in the covenant and prevent future Dynasts from taking the reigns of other cities. Icarians find the notion of sliding slowly into impotence terrifying. That the Sanctified would let such a thing happen when the Dynasts are so plainly intended as rulers is a sad shame.

So it is that modern nights find the Icarians seeking out other avenues of power. Most Icarians don’t intend to betray the Sanctified, of course — merely secure themselves Status in the city or with other temporal powers so the bloodline can prove that it is no threat to the Lancea Sanctum. Indeed, the Icarians have always been a great boon to the covenant and as the pious heirs to the blood of the Great Archbishop, they intend to go on as pious servants of the Sanctified the only way they know how: by organizing and commanding other Kindred to the benefit of the covenant.

The Icarian bloodline as a long, amicable history of dealing with the Kindred of the Invictus, and a younger, more cautious relationship with vampires of the Carthian Movement. Both covenants have been by Icarians as well-meaning organizations with a sad lack of religious motive among some of its greatest leaders. An Icarian would be comfortable dealing with the agents of either covenant, and could conceivably even pursue membership in one or the other if he had a plan for winding his path back to a higher station among the Sanctified.

Icarians hardly regard the Circle of the Crone and the Ordo Dracul at all, traditionally. Pagan heresies are the business of Inquisitors and crusaders, and the Dynasts interact with them predominantly as distant adversaries. It is the great shame of the bloodline that the Icarians are sometimes ignorantly lumped together with such heathens as “strays from the Spear.” Appearance: Dynasts maintain dignity in all things, including their dress. They prefer Italian suits, cut to the modern fashion, when they dress to contemporary styles. For formal covenant functions, such as Creation Rites and the Gran Ballo,

Icarians have traditionally worn more archaic garb with flourishes reminiscent of a Bishop’s vestments: red and white embroidery, iconic spears, signet rings, and so forth. As a rule of thumb, Icarians don’t dress down for the sake of lower-class associates or informal social settings.

Beyond their dress, Icarians are known for the sense of serene confidence they exude. Icarians are resolute in the extreme, renowned for maintaining calm poise in the face of dire threats and armed enemies. The humorous Icarian stereotype, in fact, (as invented following the line’s failed attempt to win control of Avignon in 1724) is the calm and collected vampire who negotiates terms while on fire. The fearsome Icarian reputation, however, whispered of tonight as it once was long ago, is that of the Spanish Icarian Fortuno who calmly ordered his enemies to douse his flaming body… and was obeyed.

Haven: Many, even most, Icarians have the wealth to maintain large, elaborate havens — often in well-appointed mansions or townhouses, typically staffed with loyal ghouls or attendant neonates, always equipped with the latest security features. Icarians richly appoint their nests with antiques, archaic furniture and fine linens. Historically, Icarians favored religious art that depicts the earliest nights of the Sanctified, such as imagery of the Centurion, etchings of the Black Abbey as drawn from the imagination and ornamental spears. In modern nights, it has become something of a fad among Dynasts to collect mortal art depicting the era of the Old Testament.

Dynasts can’t abide the thought of their kin dwelling in unsafe conditions, so Icarians unable to secure their own lavish havens may be invited into another’s sanctuary. In some domains, it’s even customary for the eldest Icarian to supply a haven for his younger brethren, whether they are his childer or another’s. Such gifted havens are rarely lavish, but always secure.

Some wealthy Dynasts go so far as to host non-Icarian visitors in their huge havens. Modern Icarians accept that with authority and power must come visibility, and few expect to keep an elaborate haven a secret for long. What’s the point of a lavish display is no one else can see it? Icarian custom demands the host see to it that his guest is safe, fed and entertained, as a symbolic effort of his high station.

Of course, Icarians still recall the origin of their line, so no Dynast sleeps in the same space as a guest. Many Icarians keep isolated, secure vaults in which to sleep, protected by loyal electronics and well-tested guards. The first rule of every Icarian haven is said to be the same: He who looks upon a sleeping scion of Icarius shall die.

Background: Most Dynasts are of Eurohpean or Middle-Eastern descent, as the bloodline only selected childer from Italy, Iberia, France, Germany and Turkey for many centuries. Gradually, as the Icarians seek to find new roles for themselves, a more diverse range of Kindred are being represented amid the Icarians, but whole decades go by without a new Icarian adopting the bloodline. The standards of any Dynast are high, to say the least. The Icarians are the descendants of a vampire one step removed from the Dark Messiah himself — the prize of such gloriously noble blood can never be awarded lightly.

Dynasts may monitor a potential childe for decades before presenting her to other Icarians as a potential new family member. Icarians follow all the old Sanctified traditions surrounding the Embrace, from the Choice to the Creation Rite, but they add their own customs in the earliest stages: Once a would-be Icarian has chosen Damnation over death, three other Icarians must be consulted to support her choice. If any one of the three decides the supplicant is not up to par — is too common, or lacking in willpower or dignity — then her choice is overruled and she must be destroyed as evidence of a Masquerade breach. Few Dynasts, therefore, present a prospective childe to their kin without first securing her approval by other means — many Icarian sires are thus indebted to their kin.

Character Creation: Social Attributes rank high among the Dynasts, especially Composure. Resolve is a key Icarian Attribute, as the Dynasts prize an unwavering, resolute commitment to the bloodline and the Lancea Sanctum above all else. Willpower is essential. No Icarian should be without dots in Intimidation, Persuasion, Politics and Socialize. Academics is also valued, as leaders must be well educated. To represent an established, archetypal Dynast, Merits must be given extra attention. City and Covenant Status, Contacts, Haven, Resources and Retainer are definitive traits for the Icarians — those who cannot be well-rounded should strive to excel in one Merit of value to the parish or the local bloodline. A great many Dynasts seek out Sanctified or Invictus Daeva to teach them the magic of Majesty. Blood Potency, beyond being necessary to join the bloodline, is also a good way to represent the might of the blood of the Great Archbishop.

Organization: The Icarians have long slipped themselves into the larger organizations of covenant and city hierarchies. Historically, they have sought to control such social structures, but not to reform them. Dynasts do not have a single, shared philosophy of rule, only the belief they feel in their blood: that they are entitled and intended to rule other Damned.

As a bloodline, the Icarians interact like an extended, aristocratic family. They gather for family functions that vary by domain — some meet every year, others reunite in a favorite, central city every 50 years or so — and consult with each other based primarily on age. In general, Dynasts divide themselves into three generations: the youngest, neonate and ancilla alike, who are regard each other as siblings, even sire and childe; the eldest, whether elder or ancient, who are respected as beloved grandparents; and Icarius himself, whose grace and magnificence is beyond comparison.

Icarians meet to socialize and exchange news, but also to trade advice and secrets. Icarian siblings that dwell in the same domain probably see a great deal of each other. Ventrue cousins and Sanctified compatriots may be seen as vital allies, loyal advisors and confidants, but only other Icarians are family — even the case of the Icarian childe of a “plain” Ventrue sire. An invisible, inviolate circle of love and loyalty surrounds the Dynasts, and only the scions of the Great Archbishop are allowed inside.

Concepts: Boy king, dignified executive, expectant heir, handsome dignitary, host of Elysium, humble reformer, paranoid Prince, spoiled brat, well-groomed vizier, wise grandfather.

Dark sorcerers and subtle assassins, members of the Iltani bloodline are as clever, spiteful and venomous as snakes.

They operate in stealth and secrecy, and are masterful manipulators and deceivers. Vipers are unusually adept at controlling their own emotions, and they cling to their anger in death, fueling and transforming its corrosive energy to suit their own purposes. A vampire meeting an Iltani for the first time could never hope to see or understand the depth of the seething anger that is forever just beneath the surface of her stoic gaze — at least, not unless she chooses to unleash her fury.

The rare and highly specialized poisons the Iltani use to weaken their enemies are distilled from anger, spite and resentment. Kindred scholars speculate that it is by channeling this dark, emotional energy and transforming it through the Beast that members of the bloodline are able to harness their unique abilities. Whether or not this theory has any veracity may never be ascertained, as members of the bloodline are uncommonly elusive and secretive.

History and Culture: The Iltani bloodline can be traced back to ancient Mesopotamia. The bloodline’s founder, Nanshe Iltani, was a powerful priestess of the Coven of Nanaja, and a consult to the Kindred royalty of the shadow empire of Babylonia.

According to Kindred of the bloodline, Nanshe Iltani had a lover, Arahunaa, to whom she was deeply devoted.

One night, the En (a title for the Kindred emperor in ancient Babylonia) came to consult with Nanshe Iltani. When the En saw the beautiful Arahunaa, he immediately wished to possess her. Despite Nanshe Iltani’s desperate pleading, En Isiratuu took Arahunaa back to the royal temple to live at his side. Adding to the tale of treachery, Arahunaa went with the En willingly — preferring an unlife of royal luxury over the companionship of Nanshe Iltani. The cruel actions of Arahunaa and the En enraged Nanshe Iltani, and she vowed from that night forward that she would be the one to bring about their Final Deaths. She knew that she would never succeed in killing her betrayers outright and survive. Instead, she would be patient, using a subtler approach of stealth and sorcery, striking when the moment was right. It was Nanshe Iltani’s desire for vengeance that led her to uncover the secrets associated with her bloodline tonight.

In the years that followed, Nanshe Iltani devoted herself to finding new ways in which her powers could be used to destroy Arahunaa and the En, taking many solitary walks through the moonlit steppes and deserts of Babylonia to reflect upon her goal. It was during these travels that Nanshe Iltani was believed to have developed her affinity for the venomous, lowly creatures of the earth: snakes, spiders, insects and scorpions. That she was drawn to such creatures is not surprising, as she herself was poisonous from her own festering resentment. She found that she could call the stinging, biting creatures of the desert to her side, and even influence their movements. After a time, she uncovered methods of condensing and transforming her anger, through the Beast within, into potent venoms. Eventually, she made use of the creatures she called upon to act as vessels of her spite, using their stings to deliver her poison to the victim. While Nanshe Iltani did not succeed in discovering a poison strong enough to lead to instantaneous Final Death, her newfound abilities were useful to her cause nonetheless.

One night, Arahunaa appeared to Nanshe Iltani in a dream. According to her former lover, the En had developed a terrible, dark gift, the likes of which the Damned of Babylon had never seen. Soon, the En would be unstoppable, and the empire would suffer for it.

Seeing that the news could be used to her advantage, Nanshe Iltani seized her chance. Feigning sympathy for her plight, Nanshe Iltani gave Arahunaa a scorpion with a poisonous sting to set upon the En. The venom of Iltani’s scorpion did not directly cause the deaths of Arahunaa and the En, but it was potent enough to indirectly guide them to their ultimate end. It was through Nanshe Iltani’s cursed venom, members of the bloodline claim, that the Edimmu of legend were able to gain access to the En, tearing him apart from within and then subsequently killing Arahunaa in the massacre that followed.

In the chaos that occurred shortly after the death of the En of Babylonia, it is unclear what became of Nanshe Iltani. Since then, however, her progeny have spread throughout the world, refining her techniques and passing along her secrets in low whispers to each new generation.

Kindred of the bloodline almost always choose to sire a childe from an individual who was resentful or bitter during his mortal life. Iltani encourage their childer to cling to their anger, to fuel and strengthen it, but never to allow their fury to show. If anything, a Viper appears void of emotion. It is through an Iltani’s ability to control her feelings that she gains her power — skillfully transforming and molding her vitriol into useful manipulative tools.

Initiates to the bloodline must prove that they can control their anger. New Kindred are treated harshly, chastised and provoked until the young vampire enters a state of anger frenzy. The initiate must successfully “ride the wave” (see pp. 178-181 of Vampire: The Requiem) to prove he has the self-control required to become an Iltani.

Reputation: Members of the Iltani bloodline are unusually guarded and secretive, even for the Damned. Many Kindred tonight believe that the Iltani bloodline does not exist at all, and that it is simply a legend from the long-forgotten past. Those who do know of their existence, however, fear them for their strange ways and deadly abilities.

Because many Kindred laugh at the notion of the Iltani bloodline’s very existence (and the Iltani prefer to keep it that way), members of the bloodline are excellent assassins. While some Iltani may be willing to offer their services as an assassin, it usually comes with a steep price. Vipers are much more likely to use their abilities to manipulate rather than kill. They prefer to stand in the shadows, watching as their venom slowly tortures or drives their victim to madness.

Kindred who know of the Iltani also know never to cross one. An Iltani never forgets those who have betrayed her, and she uses memories of past transgressions to fuel her anger. A vampire who betrays an Iltani may not pay immediately, but he always pays dearly in the end.

Concepts: Kindred assassin, lord of the flies, manipulative sociopath, espionage agent, underhanded informant, stoic enforcer, herpetologist, power behind the throne, eccentric collector, mysterious apothecary

The Kallisti are an old, scattered bloodline. Though their exact origin has long been lost to time and torpor, those Kindred who specialize in such things have assembled documents kept by elders that suggest that these Kindred split from the main clan well over a thousand years ago somewhere along the northernmost edge of Europe or Eastern Europe — Scandinavia, Finland or perhaps northern Russia. They’re still strongest in the north of Europe, but a number of Ravagers have also made it to the New World, where Québec appears to be the center of their population.

Icy manipulators of Kindred and kine alike, the so-called Ravagers are destroyers of the social fabric — cultivating isolation, mistrust and paranoia among those who have seen them in action. They take great delight in watching others slowly form bonds of trust and interdependence — and then cutting those bonds and watching the ensuing drama unfold. It is, to the Kallisti, the most fascinating game around, and they are uniquely adept at it.

Cold elegance and frigid beauty all but radiate from these striking Kindred. Others fall all over themselves to serve them, to appease them, to nourish them. The Kallisti may create small cults of personality around themselves. They may direct a business venture of some sort (if such a thing satisfies their narcissistic impulses). They may surround themselves with servants, groupies, worshippers and slaves, but Ravagers pass their Requiems without true intimacy or allies, and they would never dream of compromising themselves by trusting anyone else. They know all too well the consequences of that kind of folly, because they are well versed in pitting ally against ally — though mostly as a strategy against boredom.

Covenant: Invictus

Appearance: Most Ravagers are strikingly beautiful. Many dress in such a way as to flawlessly emphasize that beauty. They are, to a one, narcissists, intent on being the most beautiful, most desired and best dressed in any room they’re in, and, on those rare occasions when they Embrace mortals, it’s because they’ve found ones sufficiently beautiful to carry on the bloodline.

Haven: The Kallisti have stunningly tasteful and well-appointed havens. Ravagers are generally fans of beautiful, elegant and minimalist decors. Their havens are typically architecturally impressive and clean to the point of sterility, which is just one more factor that enforces their isolation (they would never bring mortals here to feed lest their food sully their chillingly tidy spaces). On those exceedingly rare occasions when the Kallisti do allow other Kindred into their havens, it’s almost always Daeva or an offshoot of that clan, as Kallisti tend to think of every other clan as unwashed rabble. Only Daeva (and their offshoots) have sufficiently cultivated taste to appreciate the subtle aesthetic nuances of a Kallisti haven.

Kallisti are more likely to emphasize security than convenience in their havens. They’re fully aware of their own reputation, and they don’t care to have those they’ve socially damaged show up unexpectedly.

Where a Ravager of important sleeps and where she holds court are two entirely different spaces. These Kindred are likely to hold court in private clubs or in the back rooms of certain exclusive nightclubs where kine discretely compete to be the evening’s meal. Some Ravagers keep multiple havens for peace of mind and practicality. If a Kallisti shows off her haven, even to her coterie-mates, it probably isn’t the one where she really sleeps.

Background: Kallisti Embrace cold, beautiful people who are socially adept but emotionally distant — only mortals at the peak of physical beauty, and only those with a manipulative bent. When Ravagers get it in their heads to Embrace, they actively look for the most heartless bitches (or bastards) they can find and then gift them with immortality. Some Ravagers cull primarily from the aristocracy (where there is one) or from the wealthiest and most isolated classes where there is no aristocracy per se. Ice queens, workaholics, con artists, heartless aristocrats, sociopaths and others who tend to go through life without establishing close bonds with others are among the favored stock from which Ravagers Embrace. Likewise, actors, models, personal trainers, dancers and other physically perfect specimens are common choices for new Kallisti. They are suave and elegant, cool and slick, and they have no feeling for others whatsoever. In the eyes of the Kallisti, the Requiem is a game — a dance that can be won — and little else. A few have even proved blasé about their own Final Deaths, laughing even as they were destroyed, as though they felt they’d already beaten life by preserving their beauty for so long.

Character Creation: Social Attributes (and Skills) are always Primary, with Presence being foremost among these. Most Kallisti are gorgeous, but even those who aren’t physically perfect are mesmerizing and possess pronounced animal magnetism. Mental Attributes may get emphasized over time as Ravagers come to understand the need to be mentally sharp if they’re going to have any chance of surviving in the wake of the kind of the social mayhem they tend to cause. For all the threat they pose socially, the Kallisti are rarely very physically robust. Physical Attributes are almost always Tertiary.

The most common Merit among Ravagers, by far, is Striking Looks (see the World of Darkness Rulebook, p. 117). Kallisti rarely give the Embrace to those who do not have this Merit. Ravagers rarely trust others enough to have the Allies or Mentor Merits, although Retainer is common enough. Meanwhile, Herd is a common Merit for the terribly beautiful Kindred of this bloodline. Likewise, many Kallisti are modestly rich at the moment of their Embrace — or become so in short order, once they learn to use their Disciplines and their looks to the greatest effect.

Organization: Next to none. Kallisti may watch one another from the shadows, but they rarely form connections or alliances outside of personal compacts. The Kallisti don’t trust one another, and they aren’t fond of each other’s company. It’s not that they hate one another, and they’re certainly not going to attack one another on sight (unless extraordinary circumstances warrant it), but Ravagers simply don’t trust one another enough to have a default organization or familial society to fall back on. Moreover, the power of blood ties makes Perfidy, the bloodline’s proprietary Discipline, more powerful when used against Kindred who are “related” to one another and, having seen its effects on others, they don’t care to submit themselves to that possibility.

Additionally, they are keenly aware of how destructive they can be to the social fabric of a place, and they feel that it’s better for their numbers to be as spread out as possible. That said, these Kindred do have a sense of themselves as part of a bloodline —a rare and beautiful bloodline at that — and even though they may not like each other, they generally dislike other Kindred more. As far as Ravagers are concerned, every one of their number is a precious work of art, and any vampire who develops a reputation for preying on Kallisti will likely find himself marked for vicious reprisals as only these coldest of Kindred can carry them out.

Within larger Kindred society, the Kallisti are happy to pass as Daeva or Toreador, fulfilling the same roles as those Kindred would — at least until they get bored — at which time, they would likely start entertaining themselves with increasingly more elaborate uses of Perfidy, until such time as they get themselves banished or blood-hunted.

Concepts: Agent provocateur, spy, malicious courtier, home wrecker, domain wrecker, subversive Harpy, cold gray eminence, Sheriff ’s Interrogator, elder’s pet

The ancient Khaibit bloodline is dying out. This
Mekhet offshoot seems to have lost its reason for ex-
istence. Traditionally, members of the lineage have
served blood magicians in the Circle of the Crone. A Khaibit procures victims for his master to
feed upon, manages her worldly affairs and
generally frees her to concentrate on her
mystical research. When necessary, a
Khaibit also serves as bodyguard,
thief or even assassin.

A Khaibit’s favored Disciplines make him an excellent guard: Auspex to notice a danger, Celerity to react quickly and Vigor to strike hard, replacing the Mekhet’s usual penchant for concealment. Khaibit also carry an aptitude for a rare Discipline, generally believed to be the line’s invention long, long ago. Other Kindred call the Mekhet “Shadows,” but the Khaibit can develop actual power over darkness. Indeed, their power to evoke, shape and become darkness led to the bloodline’s name — the ancient Egyptian word for “shadow.”

Now, however, few people accept eternal service to another, living or undead. Old Khaibit seldom find childer willing to carry on the bloodline’s traditional role. Young Khaibit refuse to serve and sometimes join covenants other than the Circle. Disgusted sires may refuse to initiate such “disobedient” neonates into the bloodline’s power, or elect to teach childer who awaken Khaibit blood on their own. Increasing numbers of Kindred think of line members simply as “Mekhet with shadow powers.” Indeed, many young Khaibit see themselves that way.

Covenant: In the last thousand years, the Khaibit have served the Circle of the Crone almost exclusively. More than half the bloodline sticks by this old bond. Indeed, some Asps have become competent blood magicians in their own right, instead of merely serving them. In the last two centuries, some Asps took service among the Invictus, the Ordo Dracul or to a much lesser degree the Lancea Sanctum and Carthians. Now, Khaibit who don’t know or care about tradition join whatever covenant suits their personalities or goals.

Appearance: As with the parent clan, there’s no such thing as a typical Khaibit. Line members can be male or female, young or old (in mortal appearance, anyway), or of any race. Asps dress to blend in with the kine around them. Those who fulfill roles as Retainers

Very few neonates ever learn their bloodline’s true, original purpose. Then again, few elders remember it, either. The Khaibit were not always “undead butlers.” The lineage’s true history is hidden by time and geography.

Long ago, Mekhet vampires led a secret cult dedicated to Set, the Egyptian god of war, desert, chaos and darkness. Some Mekhet also became warriors of the cult. Their symbol was the asp — a silent, deadly killer, and one of Set’s totem animals.

As Christianity spread, the Cult of Set declined, even among the undead. By A.D. 1000, the Dark God’s cult was nearly extinct. Tonight, some Khaibit protect the few ancient Kindred who still revere the Dark God, and tend to the cult’s long-hidden subterranean temples. They also protect other ancient sites that the world has forgotten. On rare occasions, they travel in order to recover artifacts of the cult and other potent magical relics. Most of the bloodline, however, abandoned their duty with the Cult of Set’s demise. Remnants of the group joined the Circle of the Crone and brought many other Khaibit with them. Over the centuries, the line became procurers and valets, leg-breakers and guards, a veritable emotional compensation for the higher duties their blood once demanded, but which were lost.

The ancient Egyptians regarded Set as a dangerous, frightening and evil god… but it took a fearsome god to protect the world against yet darker powers. The Sun God could not rise every morning without Set to battle Apep, the primordial serpent-demon of darkness. Set kept the demons in the Netherworld, where they belonged. The “Asps” aided Set’s work. They walked shadowy places where other Kindred feared to go, and made darkness their servant. They fought entities from beyond death and before time began, creatures that would have destroyed Creation or remade it to suit their own malignant desires. Some Khaibit still maintain their ancient duty, watching gates that must remain closed, and hunting the servants of the Eldest Powers. Few of them remain, however. So few to keep the sun rising, a sun they can never see themselves. often prefer their clothes either loose-fitting or carefully tailored to hide protective armor or amulets.

Haven: Khaibit who serve as Retainers do not possess havens of their own. They dwell with their masters. Asps who serve as Creation’s unseen defenders keep their havens well hidden, and often underground. These dwellings tend to be small and bare, since a line member may need to abandon it if it’s compromised. The Khaibit who protect the Cult of Set’s longhidden fanes in Egypt (see below) dwell in cabal temples. These magnificent subterranean complexes include shrines, dormitories for Asps’ mortal servants and vessels, training arenas, libraries of ancient lore, and vaults full of salvaged artifacts of the Cult of Set.

Background: The Khaibit look for potential childer who share their ethos of respect and support. They typically Embrace mortals who already serve a master or some allied Kindred. Tradition holds that a prospective Asp should first honor his sire and his sire’s master as a ghoul, learning the skills needed to serve and protect. Modern Khaibit often forego this requirement, along with the rest of the bloodline’s calling, siring whomever is useful. These rogues are in for a surprise if the bloodline’s past ever catches up with them: Some Khaibit ancient enemies remember the bloodline and still hold a grudge.

The few Asps who carry on the ancient duty of guarding the world from ghosts, demons and worse things were often mortals who fought the supernatural, or who were victimized by it. The Khaibit do not always ask such a prospective childe’s permission before Embracing him. When a neonate is simply taken, a sire spends at least seven years training and indoctrinating the childe.

Character Creation: The majority of line members who serve as mercenaries or agents got other vampires typically offer a forte that’s most useful to a master or employer. A Kindred who seeks a bodyguard and protector typically needs an Asp with primarily Physical traits. Someone who needs an assistant or proxy makes Mental or Social traits a criteria. A character’s relative strengths and weaknesses can therefore suggest the type of role he might play as an agent-for-hire. Appropriate Physical, Mental and Social Merits only further specialize a Khaibit’s appointed role. Expertise in fighting styles, sense for the supernatural or relationships in mortal affairs makes a servant all the more useful in a particular regard.

A Khaibit Embraced to the world’s defenders ultimately seeks as much balance as possible among Attributes and Skills. While Physical Attributes might be primary at character creation, Physical Skills might be tertiary, for example. Such well-rounded capabilities are called for since no supernatural being that threatens to invade the world can be defeated in only one way. It takes all of a defender’s faculties to prevail. If a character is initiated directly into the line shortly after the Embrace, an extra dot of Blood Potency is required.

Organization: Those Asps who still protect the relics of Set’s cult and who hunt monsters form tiny, cult-like, militant coteries that protect torpid members, record their rule, and preserve their traditions through the centuries. Most Khaibit, however, never meet any other Asps other than their own subservient sires and broodmates.

Concepts: Bodyguard, valet, detective, assassin, modern knight, Hound, business manager, vengeful ronin, Lupine-hunter, hospice night manager, personal trainer

History
For most Khaibit, their bloodline lacks any history beyond the personal. A member may learn the background of his sire and sire’s sire, but that’s all. The problem is like that of writing a history of the English monarchy’s butlers. For centuries, no one thought the people or their experiences were worth recording. When Khaibit appear in chronicles and legends of the Damned, they usually do so as the lackeys — loyal, treacherous or victimized — of more famous Circle of the Crone members.

Legendary Origins
The Khaibit emerged from the Mekhet so long ago that history has passed into legend, and few now remember even the legend. Asps who want to hear stories about their bloodline’s origins must seek the most erudite loremasters of the undead, or find one of the tiny, long-isolated Khaibit coteries that still guards a site of mystic power.

What’s more, a dedicated investigator discovers multiple stories, not one. Each legend may contain bits of history, but not even the coteries that claim to preserve the ancient ways can tell which details are fact and which are fancy. Tales of the ancient Khaibit and Cult of Set drip with romance. Even vampires who know they are not the world’s only supernatural denizens cannot believe these legends of gods, ghosts, wizards, were-creatures and otherworlds.

The Cult of Set
Legends cannot assign a beginning to the Cult of Set. Crumbling scrolls and moldering tomes say the Egyptian god Set founded the group himself before history began, making it the first “covenant” of Kindred. These purported histories do not mention any events earlier than Hellenistic times, though, and even those stories may be fabrications. (No one has ever scientifically dated any of these manuscripts, which may be copies made later.)

The most consistent myths say the cult existed to protect the world from perils far worse than vampires. The Damned had to dwell in the world and needed live humans to sustain them. Other creatures did not. The warriors of Set therefore fought evil and powerful ghosts that wanted to drag the living into the world of death. They hunted malignant cults and crazed enchanters who served gods of madness, destruction and oblivion. They battled spirits and monsters from beyond the stars and below the depths of Hell. Things so foul and alien that their very presence warped and eroded reality.

The cult’s greatest strength lay in its homeland of Egypt. After Rome conquered Egypt, the cult spread throughout the Mediterranean world and the Middle East. The scrolls and inscriptions in the cult’s long-lost temples say that Set’s paladins of the night saved the world (or at least provinces) many times.

Entertaining stories, if one can believe any Kindred could act so selflessly.

Dark Power
The lost myths of the Khaibit ascribe the bloodline’s genesis to contact with various spiritual or magical forces. The simplest story merely says the god Set gave the lineage’s first members their command over shadow. He supposedly gave that gift so the Khaibit could penetrate the deepest darkness, even unto the deathly realms where light could not shine, and to fight creatures that were shadows themselves.

Another story ties the line’s Obtenebration power to the blood of a god. In this romantic myth, a mortal coven summoned Seker, the god who ruled the deepest region of Duat, the Egyptian underworld. Seker sought to bring all Egypt into his realm. Three cunning and mighty Mekhet warriors forced the death-god to return to Duat. They tasted the god’s spilled blood, conferring upon them a measure of dark, divine power.

A variation on the same story says a Mekhet warrior fought an enchanter who served Seker. The sorcerer called on Seker’s darkness to destroy the Mekhet. As shadows curdled around the vampire, however, he seized the enchanter and sank his fangs into the mortal. When the shadows dispersed, the enchanter was gone and the Mekhet’s blood had changed.

A quite different story says the Khaibit began with the efforts of a great Mekhet sorceress. This blood-witch conjured water from the River of Death that flowed through Duat. She chose the three greatest mortal warriors who served the Cult of Set and gave them the water to drink along with their Embrace. The Water of Death changed the childers’ Vitae, making them the first Asps.

Other myths present minor variations on these stories. Sometimes three Mekhet become the first line members (or sometimes seven, or only one). Instead of Seker’s divine blood, supernatural identity comes from feeding on a demon, a ghost or a Nameless Thing. Instead of an undead sorcerer, a mortal mage enchants the founder and changes his blood. Instead of the power coming as Set’s gift, the nascent Khaibit steal the secret of Obtenebration from Seker or learn it from Thoth, the god of magic. After more than 2,000 years, the truth probably doesn’t matter.

Segue to Servants
Legends about the Cult of Set describe a number of conflicts with ancient covenants. The Camarilla is now the best known of these elder groups. The cult did not disappear because of war with another sect, however. The Egyptian gods simply went out of fashion. By A.D. 200, Egypt was firmly Christian. By 400, Christianity was the official faith of the Roman Empire. Never mind finding childer who still worshipped the Egyptian gods. The Cult of Set had increasing difficulty finding recruits who could treat Set as anything but a fable from pagan times.

The Cult of Set was never officially destroyed. It simply withered away. Remaining members joined the Camarilla (assuming that elder covenant was not mythical itself). From the Camarilla, the cult’s mystical secrets passed to the nascent Circle of the Crone.

Like the cult, its enemies seem to have declined as well. Perhaps the ghosts, demons and nameless horrors found it more difficult to invade the material world. Perhaps their depredations simply weren’t recorded in the chaos and ignorance that followed Rome’s decline and collapse. Whatever the truth of the matter, the fading sect ceased to chronicle epic battles against its otherworldly foes.The Khaibit followed other Cult of Set members into the Circle of the Crone. And yet that group bestowed its greatest honor unto blood magicians, not warriors. The Khaibit continued to fight enemies of the old cult, such as Lupines and hostile vampires, but they fought at the blood-sorcerers’ command. Gradually, the bloodline shifted from a lineage of shadow warriors to a lineage of bodyguards and minions. Khaibit seldom appear as the protagonists of Circle history or legends. As magic slipped from the world and the covenants established their new balance of power, the bloodline’s martial prowess became steadily less important. Now, even the warriors’ tradition of service is a quaint anachronism. Nobody really needs the Khaibit anymore.

At least, they won’t until the gates to the Other open again, and the spectral enemies return.

Society and Culture
At least half of all Khaibit serve other Kindred. As far as other Damned are concerned, their servants are a bloodline of just that. The Khaibit receive some respect for their capabilities, especially those who are masters of Obtenebration who can take the form of a shadow. Many Kindred would be astonished to learn that the Asps once defended the world from unholy forces. Most Kindred wouldn’t care, though. What could an ancient fight against ghosts and demons matter now?

An Unlife of Service
Even if a Khaibit chooses not to follow his line’s tradition of service, many do. The lineage’s historic role influences who becomes a Khaibit, why, and how other Kindred treat members.

Retainers and Retainees
A Khaibit character might serve another
vampire, or even another player’s character.
Playing a Retainer deserves special discussion.
As a supernatural creature, a Khaibit is a five-
dot Retainer. If the Khaibit’s master is a Storyteller-
controlled character, this cost doesn’t matter
much. Supporting cast members have as many dots
to spend as the Storyteller wants. Of more
practical importance, the Khaibit player must buy
the character’s employer as a Mentor. As usual,
the master’s value as a Merit depends on her
power and willingness to help the character. A
Circle Hierophant who treats the servant as a
valued agent costs five dots. The Hierophant’s
spoiled childe who treats her Khaibit bodyguard
as a slave costs only one.
What if a Khaibit’s master is another player’s
character? In this case, the players themselves
work out the relationship, and the Storyteller
decides how to represent it in terms of Retainer
and Mentor. If the players decide their characters
are master and servant in name only, and actually
treat each other as equals, neither needs to buy a
Merit. If the master intends to exercise real
authority over the Khaibit, and the servant feels
some obligation to obey, players must buy suitable
Merits for their characters.

Employers
Most Khaibit work for prestigious and powerful members of the Circle of the Crone. In some cities, a Khaibit majordomo is a badge of honor for an Acolyte. In such cities, some Kindred may retain at least a subconscious awareness of the bloodline’s ancient purpose. Master magicians know that when a Crúac experiment goes wrong, it’s good to have a Khaibit on hand to deal with whatever arrives in response. A few practitioners of Theban Sorcery or other blood magic seek Asps as well. The desire to co-opt anything the competition values brings Khaibit into the Lancea Sanctum and Ordo Dracul, not to mention among the Unaligned.

Some Invictus elders (and those of other covenants to a lesser degree) also seek Khaibit servants. These employ-ers don’t care about blood magic, but they like the idea of a servant as eternal as themselves. Not many Kindred ever accept an eternal unlife of servitude; the Khaibit offer it as their raison d’être. One could always keep a few ghoul retainers, of course, but some elders prefer a servant who doesn’t crumble to dust if you forget to feed him personally and on schedule. A ghoul’s emotional dependence on his regnant also irritates some elders who prefer a cool, professional relationship with an agent.

A Khaibit’s employer is not necessarily some moldering elder who tries to uphold the customs of centuries past. Some sires believe their childer deserve perpetual lackeys of their own. The vampire sires a childe, and the elder orders her Khaibit minion to sire one as well. On rare occasions, parallel lineages of Khaibit and members of another clan may be traced back for generations.

Most often, a vampire simply hires a Khaibit. Once upon a time, Asps swore oaths to serve their masters. Sometimes an Asp had to accept a blood bond to seal the contract. Very few Princes enforce this tradition anymore (or even know about it). If no Khaibit look for work, a vampire might strike a deal with an Asp’s master. In return for some boon, the master orders his servant to sire and train a childe. Of course, a vampire can also approach a Khaibit and simply try to lure him away from his current master.

In some cities, a Khaibit servant comes as part of an office. A leading Acolyte may receive a Khaibit servant along with his appointment as Hierophant. Primogen or Prisci may receive a Khaibit’s service as well. This happens most often among the Mekhet, but can occur for leaders of other clans, too.

Making of a Khaibit
A century ago, Khaibit had no problem finding prospective childer. A sizeable portion of the kine population still lived as some kind of servant, especially in Europe. Mortals would not rebel against the notion of serving one master forever. Now, matters are very different. Even a professional butler or live-in valet thinks of himself as a contractor, not a retainer. He provides a service, not servility.

Some employers and Khaibit sires accept this change in social attitude. They seek childer among mortals who possess valued talents: professional bodyguards or security guards, secretaries or business managers. Other Asps look for prospects with an emotional need to serve. Nurses, people who have spent years caring for sickly relatives, employees at non-profit and charitable organizations, and all sorts of volunteer workers attract their attention. Quite often, a would-be sire finds a childe among immigrants from the Third World. A Guatemalan au pair or Nigerian waiter may lack the talents to assist a blood magician or to defend a Primogen, but he or she is willing to serve. Knowledge can come later, and the Damned have plenty of time for training.

Sometimes a sire tells a prospective childe she has a job offer with unusual opportunities. Only later does the mortal learn that her “job” requires the Embrace. Other times, a sire merely Embraces a mortal, tells her she can’t go back to her old life, and gives her a choice between service and destruction. (Such childer quite understandably show little loyalty to their sires or masters.) Some Asps prefer to blood bond a mortal and train her for several years before delivering the Embrace. When a would-be master contracts for a Khaibit childe, the master may blood bond and train the mortal instead. An Asp sire supplies the Embrace, but may have no other contact with his own childe.

Duties
A Khaibit’s master defines the extent of his agent’s duties. Common roles include:

• Assistant: Khaibit who serve a blood magician often learn something about their master’s dark arts, so they can prepare materials and contribute to rituals. (Such an assistant is traditionally called a famulus.) Just as important, a good assistant knows when not to intrude on a mystic rite.
• Bodyguard: An Asp is often expected to protect his master from her enemies, whether they be mortal witch-hunters, marauding werewolves or rival vampires.
• Crime: In addition to defending his master, an Asp might attack his master’s enemies. Experienced Khaibit become very good at slipping into a location, administering violence and slipping out again. An agent’s master may also send him to spy on mortals or Kindred opponents, or to steal items needed for rituals (or just items the master wants). Requesting (or demanding) such tasks requires a certain degree of loyalty in a servant, of course.
• General Factotum: An elder might spend time scheming against rivals and not worry about the trivialities of her Requiem, while a blood magician might not want to take time from research to manage his household or connections to the mortal world. A Khaibit Retainer might serve as secretary, chief of staff overseeing mortal servants, or business manager, in addition to any other duties.
• Hunter: A blood magician trying to devise a new ritual doesn’t want to waste time seeking sustenance. Instead, she can send her servant to bring her a vessel. Afterward, the agent can make sure the mortal doesn’t know what happened — or if it comes to it, dispose of the body.

All in all, a Khaibit servant can find his unlife as exciting and unpredictable as any other vampire’s. One night, he delivers a bribe to a city councilman. The next, he sneaks into the Primogen council as a shadowy spy. The night after that, he defends his master against an out-of-control demon. On top of this, a modern Khaibit can also find whatever personal interests and entanglements he chooses… or that choose him.

Terms of Service
Modern Khaibit expect something in return for an unlife of dedication. Many receive a straightforward salary. Like mortal cooks and housekeepers, line members often demand and receive regular nights off duty. A Khaibit (or any similar Kindred Retainer) receives a traditional privilege to hunt in his master’s territory, or to feed from her herd. He may also dwell in his master’s haven. In fact, that’s usually part of his duties.

Princes often extend a limited immunity to Khaibit or other Kindred Retainers. If a Khaibit commits an offense against other undead at his master’s behest, the master bears the responsibility. Of course, that assumes anyone can prove the master gave the order… or that the master is not too powerful or too valued an ally to make prosecution a solution. A Khaibit who becomes the fall guy for his master, and other Kindred know the truth, may suffer lighter punishment than another vampire would (at least in some cities). Such dispensation of a servant usually ends the Khaibit’s service, though, unless the master has some other hold on his Retainer, such as a Vinculum or a threat to mortal loved ones. Unfortunately, some elders don’t realize that modern servants are not willing to fall on their swords for their masters’ sake. Modern Khaibit can strike back at treacherous employers and teach other Kindred to fear the shadows.

Shadow Warriors
A fraction of the Khaibit bloodline does not serve other Kindred or operate as “Mekhet with shadow powers.” These few secretly preserve the bloodline’s ancient duty as the world’s guardians. Some of these Asps tend the last, long-hidden shrines to Set, or guard weak points in reality where Things From Beyond can break through.

Most of the Cult of Set’s so-called fanes are located in Egypt, but a few secret shrines survive in Europe, the Middle East and North Africa. These temples hold the cult’s records, written on papyrus and parchment scrolls, or inscribed on the walls in classic Egyptian fashion. Anyone who finds one of these shrines learns a great deal about the Kindred of the ancient world. How much of what they learn is true is open to conjecture. Members of the Cult of Set were just as likely as any modern Kindred to misremember the past after a long torpor, and to rewrite history to serve their own interests.

More importantly, fanes are treasure-troves of elder magic. The Cult of Set practiced a form of Crúac based on Egyptian ritual magic, concentrating on the use of wax or clay images, hieroglyphic inscriptions, blood offerings, and invocations to Egyptian gods. Any vampire who could retrieve such ancient lore would win great fame in the Circle of the Crone and the Ordo Dracul. (The Sanctified might seek to destroy this “pagan” sorcery, though you never know. Power is power.) The shrines also hold items that ancient cultists re- garded as magical. Perhaps some of them still retain their power. Exorcistic sand from the deserts of Duat, blades enchanted to kill spirits, amulets to protect against possession, Dominate or fire — it’s anyone’s guess what wonders a fane might hide.

A few other Khaibit keep watch over places where ghosts, demons and stranger things once erupted into the world, and where they might break through again. Sometimes mages in search of knowledge or power deliberately open gates to realms beyond. Khaibit guards make sure no one else foolishly dares these portals, and watch for dark things that slip through. Every century, one or two Khaibit discover their historic role and accept their duty. If they among the undead don’t protect the world, who will?

Typically, a small group of Khaibit (or other vam- pires descended from Cult of Set members) guards each post. Some members lie in torpor while others remain active. If a member suffers Final Death, the others look for a mortal they can Embrace and train to join them. When a shrine or breach-point is far from a major city, the Khaibit might assemble a blood cult of mortals to serve as their herd and additional guards. Some of these little cults have persisted for centuries.

Guardian-coteries don’t usually know about each other. Each believes its members are the last to keep the old ways. They have simply lost track of each other over the ages. At most, a coterie might know of one other guard post, thanks to sending mortal allies in search of other lost shrines or breaches.

On very rare occasions, Khaibit risk their unlives in quests to retrieve mystic artifacts or to stop spiritual invasions. These Asps seek relics of the Cult of Set for practical and cultural reasons. A ceremonial rod from the old cult might bear some useful enchantment. It might also set mortal archeologists to asking dangerous questions. No Kindred wants the kine learning about ancient cults supposedly led by vampires. Rumors of curses or hauntings may also lead an Asp to seek items or places where outsiders invade the world. If a Khaibit finds such an object or place, he cleanses it or takes it back to his shrine for safekeeping. Discovering a new portal in the world may prompt an Asp to stay and sire a new brood of guards.

Discovering Heritage
Any vampire might serve as another Kindred’s Retainer. The Khaibit stand out because of their secret heritage. You can play a Khaibit without ever bringing in that demon-hunting background, but that background is what makes an Asp more than just a vampire with shadow powers.

Most players know a lot more about the World of Darkness than their characters do. The Khaibit just push that distinction a little further. Part of the fun of playing an Asp lies in discovering the character’s heritage as a shadow-warrior. You and the Storyteller may conspire to build a story arc around the discovery, and how your Asp responds to the knowledge that she has a rare power to fight spiritual foes. Does she accept her power and destiny? Does she try to avoid her duty? How do other Kindred — especially a Khaibit’s master — react when they learn the truth?

Threat Revealed
If a Storyteller wants to incorporate Khaibit heritage into her chronicle, she needs to establish a danger that Asps are uniquely qualified to fight. Perhaps Kindred come under attack by incorporeal spirits. Maybe vengeful ghosts possess a coterie that lairs in an old mausoleum. A bungled (or successful…) experiment in blood magic could release shadow-creatures that feed on vampires the way vampires feed on mortals. Workers digging the foundations for a new skyscraper could break open a long-sealed and buried portal to a nether-realm. There’s no shortage of possibilities.

Next, a Khaibit needs some reason to believe he can do something about such a problem. The easiest way is to have some knowledgeable Kindred say so. Very few vampires know Khaibit ancient history. What luck that one of them dwells in the city! Or a Khaibit from a guard-post coterie might arrive and ask the character to help deal with a problem.

For a less blatant approach, an Asp character might receive clues when he uses Obtenebration. He could see a spirit while using Night Sight in total darkness and realize that he can see things that other vampires can’t. Maybe those invisible, incorporeal creatures have some connection to the strange events that so frighten the Kindred community? A Khaibit who has mastered Shadow Form can even touch spirits. An Asp conducting an errand in shadow form might encounter a ghost or demon by chance, suffer an attack, and discover that he can fight an enemy whom no one else can see or strike.

Or a spiritual foe might seek out a Khaibit. Kindred have forgotten the Asps’ role in expelling evil spirits from the world, but otherworldly beings have not. The Khaibit is the antagonist’s first target, which gives any “sensibly” paranoid vampire a clue that someone considers him a special threat. But why?

In Search of Lost Secrets
Once a Khaibit realizes Obtenebration makes her unusually qualified to deal with spirit foes, what does she do about it? She may try to avoid the situation, of course. Once other Kindred learn of her power, that probably ceases to be an option. Vampires want protection against the invisible, intangible menace, and put pressure on the Asp to defend them. Whether the character selflessly accepts or extorts every concession she can is her choice.

The Khaibit quickly realizes that she needs to know more. What is the enemy? How can she fight it most effectively? Have other Khaibit done this before? Is the ancient connection between the line and the Circle of the Crone mere coincidence? Does Obtenebration offer greater powers that are perfectly suited to fighting spirits?

When a character learns everything local vampires know about the lineage’s past (which is not much), she can seek information elsewhere. Local Acolytes can contact savants in other cities. The Asp can offer favors in return for information, or even ask for a letter of introduction so she can ask questions in person. A coterie may travel more safely than a lone vampire, so all characters can embark on a thrilling journey and see how the Kindred govern themselves in another city.

Then again, a character might tap non-vampiric sources of information. Masters of Crúac or Theban Sorcery might be able to summon oracular spirits to answer questions. Naturally, such covenant members demand favors in return, which can hook an Asp and her coterie into further stories.

Ultimately, a line member might find a long-hidden, guard-post coterie and discover her “deathright.” If players want to make Khaibit heritage a major story arc, the coterie might travel all the way to Egypt. (Perhaps with the help of a Rakshasa smuggler? See that bloodline’s description.) This would be a quest worthy of an ancient Khaibit champion.

Dark Heroes
A Khaibit who battles for the sake of the world receives no gratitude from mortals (they can never know a fight took place), and very little from her fellow Kindred. Some vampires surely try to exploit a spiritual threat for their own ends. Never mind the danger to the world, as long as they can use the crisis to discredit their rivals! Such Kindred might oppose a would-be shadow warrior, because they don’t want the danger to end on any terms but their own. Other vampires could simply loathe the thought of a servant gaining such power and influence. Still others try to make a Khaibit their own servant, so they can extort favors from other Kindred. In the end, saving the world from nether horrors may be easier than finding a reason to save it at all.

Driven into hiding hundreds of years ago, the Kinnaree believe themselves to be the secret keepers of Thailand and the protectors of its Dharma. This bloodline of social monsters uses a combination of perfected bodies, poise and insight to hide among the Kindred of Thailand, waiting for their chanceto strike at their prey — namely any demon, monster or god who has outlived her purpose.

As protectors of these traditions in the Free Land of the Thai, they preserve the Hindu and older folk practices that predate Buddhism. Having an earthy and ancient form of Crúac, they tend to be Acolytes though their western cousins rarely accept them. In many European Acolyte traditions, a Kindred is a “maiden” only up until the point where she kills for the first time. The Kinnaree consider themselves immortal virgins in the service of their Patron Demoness no matter how often they kill, and this sets them apart from Western Acolytes and often makes it difficult for them to find a place within their covens.

History and Culture: Scholars tell the story of Banna, a thousand armed demon and devotee of Shiva who earned the gift of invulnerability from his patron for his dedication and penance. The stories say that the All Mother created a virgin avatar to destroy this menacing Asura once and for all. A girl slew the greatest demon of the age because it was her Dharma to do so. The Ramakien tells the story of Ravan, with his thousand heads, who was also a devotee of Shiva, and also gained from him virtual invulnerability. The Ramakien goes on to say that his sister, an Asura with long terrible nails, caused a war between her brother and the greatest king the Thais ever knew that ultimately ended in Ravan’s utter defeat.

History and mythology treats these as dissimilar myths with no root connection. The Kinnaree, secret defenders of Thailand, know the truth. There is no difference. The virgin avatar was able to destroy the Asura Banna because she knew his secret flaws. Shurpanakha, the long nailed demon, manipulated her brother into a war he could not win in an act of revenge for her husband’s death earlier on. What’s more, to the Kinnaree, this virgin slayer and the demoness were one and the same.

The secret cult of Acolyte-like witches in Thailand worships Shurpanakha as a local and powerful Asura. However, the Daeva of the Kinnaree see themselves as direct descendents of the Asura’s blood and claim their history starts where she fades from legend. In the Kindred version of the story, Shurpanakha was a tragic victim whose Dharma largely involved the destruction of her own kind. A child, she was created from the soil by the All Mother and in child-like stumbling, fell in love and married. Still not quite a woman she was unknown to her husband’s marital bed and when her brother murdered him, she was left heart broken and vengeful.

After her husband’s murder, she went to the Himmapan woods and preformed great and bloody penance to Durga. Being so young, and with penance so horrible, Durga looked at the girl with pity and restored the parts of her face she had slashed away and mended the skin she had burned in sacrifice. Durga asked the girl why she would show such devotion, and the child simply responded that she wanted to know what her fate was so that she could fulfill it with joy instead of sorrow. Durga was impressed and not only explained to the girl her duty, but granted her a gift to aid her in her quest.

For Shurpanakha, her Dharma was simple: all things must come to an end, even gods and demons. Because she was of the latter and gifted by one of the former, it was for her to know the Asura and the Devi — and when they grew bloated and stagnant with age, she was to destroy them. Her gift was the Embrace without a sire. The Kinnaree do not assume their patron and imagined founder was the first Daeva, just the most important one.

Kinnaree is a name taken from the Sukhothai half-bird women of the Himmapan forest. They were said to have protected and succored Shurpanakha after she received Durga’s blessing. They hold to two ideals: that the traditions of Thailand must be maintained or the greatest and most evil of the Asura will return from Hell and destroy the world, and that lesser earthbound Asura who have forgotten their place in the celestial order must be slain. All things must come to an end for the Wheel to turn and Kindred and other demons are no exception. This puts them into direct opposition with the Kindred monks of the Sakadagami order, though ancient agreements between the Kinnaree and the founder of the order prevent it from devolving into an all out war.

These Fawn, a Thai word for dance, have spent the last thousand years infiltrating and manipulating all levels of Thai culture, including the ritual dances so important to national holidays. In fact, the bloodline draws many childer from the traditional dancers, since the Kinnaree believe that an expert dancer physically experiences the history of the people of the land. A special secret telling of the Ramakien presents Shurpanakha as the puppeteer and true hero of the story, and only the greatest of these dancers are invited to dance it.

In the 12th century, when the Kingdom of Sukhothai was first established, the kings started sporting events around a marital practice called Muay Boran. This would later evolve into the brutal fighting form called Muay Thai. Among themselves, the Kinnaree claim that it was due to their influence with the King and the monks of the time that so many of the maneuvers are named for events from the Hindu Thai epic, the Ramakien. The brutal and athletic nature of Muay Thai appealed to the dancers among the Fawn and many of them took on its study, though mostly in secret.

The Masquerade is only loosely observed in much of Thailand, and this has been the case as far back as any elder can remember. Most humans live with the knowledge that the Asura and Devi of legend might exist, though few can report actual interactions with them. Still, erring on the side of prudence is always wise, and the citizens practice many folk rituals to appease or keep the old monsters at bay. Most Thai boys wear phra phrim, a protective amulet made using special recipes and spells, from an early age. While older mortal Buddhist monks make most phra phrim, the Kinnaree’s subversive hand is found in the fact that most recipes include the burnt ash of a temple’s oldest scrolls. After all, all things must become ash. In more rural areas, farther from the organized temples of the Sakadagami, devotees of Shurpanakha interact with the farmers and villagers. Here, the Kinnaree might even openly lead, largely recognized as priests and revered demons. Gaining good Karma by “making merit” is an old Buddhist tradition in Thailand, and often families invite monks into their homes and feed them as a way of helping everyone along the path to peace. In a dark and bloody version of this tradition, some rural households open their doors at night in an elaborate ceremony where the demons are invited to drink their fill in exchange for blessings in the season to come. Due to the rarity of this belief, these nights of “making black merit” rarely end in death. That would be wasteful.

Contrary to belief outside of the Sakadagami, the acolytes and their Kinnaree leaders are not strictly female. In fact, the worshipers of the old Hindu gods and especially those of Shurpanakha welcome male Kindred as a necessary balance. Many seasonal celebrations need male participants and in fact many older drama-dances were once composed of all male dancers. While that is rarely true today, male Kinnaree are granted many boons, including first feeding rights. In some rural areas, people believe that being fed upon by a male Asura is a part of fertility superstitions that might predate Hinduism. Outsiders analyzing the beliefs of the Kinnaree might see a direct conflict in concepts like preserving the magic and culture of the distant past, and destroying old monsters to make room for new life. This paradox, however, is not one the Kinnaree consider.

Story Hooks

• The Anand family has just moved to Miami in order to send their son to medical school. They bring with them traditional food, rituals, beliefs and great-grandmother in a box. Grandmother is over a hundred years old and has her own ideas about how to do things. First things first, though, and that’s to create a new generation of devotees to Shurpanakha.
• Some rare pieces of Thais Hindu art are on display at the museum where court is held. The pieces on display, however, are stolen, and a coterie of Thai Kindred come to court to demand them back.
• A young cult of Shurpanakha, quickly disenchanted by the agreement between their elders and the elders of the Sakadagami, pack up and leave Thailand to come to the States — with the full intention of fulfilling their Dharma.

Reputation: Because they are social chameleons like their parent clan, it is possible that more Kindred know a Kinnaree than know of the bloodline. This is as true in Thailand as it is in the rest of the world, thanks to the need for extra secrecy among the Sakadagami controlled court.

They are not openly known among the Invictus, as any Fawn among them would be there in secret in order to destroy wayward Asura. To the Carthian Movement in and around Southeast Asia and in American communities with a large Thai population, the Kinnaree are valuable allies if not easy converts. To the small sect of Islamic Lancea Sanctum in the area, the concepts of being demonic are similar, but damnation and ignorance in the face of local religion have lead to active disputes with this bloodline and the Acolytes around them.

Concepts: Seasonal dancer, Mauy Thai instructor, Carthian infiltrator, flagellant, elder hunter, monster hunter, long-nailed monster in the woods, overly curious historian, half Thai Army brat, second generation family defender

The Nameless Man walked the roads. He saw the greed in the world, and gave his possessions away. He saw the hunger in the world, and gave his food away. He saw that the only thing he could control in the world was the Man. Penniless and hungry, he became the Master. Then he was Embraced. And very little changed.

So go the legends of the Kuufukuji. They claim to be an ancient bloodline, thousands of years old, originating during the ancient nights of East Asia. As the tales say, a man known only as the Nameless Master founded the line. He was a monk, the head of a monastery dedicated to poverty and service to a local village. After the Nameless Master was Embraced, he continued to preach the concept of poverty and fasting to his childer. This extreme rule forced the Hungry to control their Wassail, and even gain power from the loss of Vitae.

Kuufukuji dwell in remote communal havens, usually on the outskirts of a town or city, much like the monks of nights long past. The Kuufukuji’s havens are nigh-inaccessible, and the Kuufukuji have a reputation for being strong warriors and hermits. Still, some Kindred seek them in modern times, since rumors of the Kuufukuji’s existence have stretched to claim that their diminished need for blood and their supreme control of the Beast has helped the Hungry reach Golconda — or at least bring them closer to it.

Mekhet factions in some cities deny the Kuufukuji’s existence entirely. In other domains, where a monastery or temple of Kuufukuji is known to exist, the Mekhet downplay the Hungry’s power, claiming that their near-religious desire to avoid feeding will cause the Kuufukuji to die out. While their numbers are not what they once were, the Kuufukuji are still very much active. They do not argue with others of their parent clan, however, as their mastery of the Man leaves them needing no affi rmations from outsiders.

The Kindred who have managed to convince a Kuufukuji to train them have nearly always fallen prey to their own Wassail, and met their merciful ends at the hands of the Hungry monks overseeing their training.

The Hungry follow the Traditions the same as any other Kindred. Few substantiated acts of Kuufukuji diablerie exist, even when they are forced to slay a childe who threatens the temple with Wassail. Although their temples, libraries and martial arts schools are commonly run by mortal agents or ghouls (or open only at night), the Kuufukuji take great pains not to violate the Masquerade. As for childer, well, no Kindred wants her bloodline to die out, regardless of the rules. Neonates are hard to come by, as the Hungry must find fledglings worthy and possessing of enough willpower to be able to handle the constant burden of fasting.

Many vampires who have encountered one of the Hungry have assumed they are mad, stoned or otherwise disconnected from reality. This impression stems from the near-constant state of meditation that a Kuufukuji must maintain in order to survive the constant hunger. Kuufukuji of tonight can be seen as anything from powerful wise women to haughty charlatans.

Childer who do not bend to their sires’ will and undergo the training necessary to attain Shihai — the “Discipline of Control” — often try to flee the monastery. If they manage to escape without their superiors or sires finding them and correcting the childer’s errors of judgment, they find themselves tied to a feeding pendulum. If they grow too hungry, they lack their bloodline’s strength to control the Wassail. If they frenzy and feed too ravenously, their bloodline’s weakness incapacitates them. These miserable childer may be hunted by either their own bloodline or a Prince’s forces before they can spiral out of control.

Parent Clan: Mekhet (though some misguidedly claim Daeva)

Covenant:
While many Kuufukuji prefer only the companionship of others of their bloodline, some Kuufukuji do ally themselves with covenants. The organized obedience that permeates the Invictus appeals to many Kuufukuji. From the time of their Embrace, the Hungry must know obedience, or they are forced to exist in a tormented state until they are exterminated. One must show deference and respect to one’s sire: the clear hierarchy of the Invictus fits the dojo mentality quite well.

The Lancea Sanctum considers the Kuufukuji to have great potential for heresy, as the Hungry rely only on their own powers of self-control to personify the Beast, rather than acknowledging the power of God. The Lancea Sanctum follows God faithfully, but its members are shackled with the need for blood — but the Kuufukuji are not burdened by this need. Do they still need God? The Hungry do not seek guidance to the realm of spirituality. They’re already at their destination. This makes them dangerous to the Priests of some parishes.

Although vampires of the Circle of the Crone and the Ordo Dracul also acknowledge religious influences, the Hungry are drawn toward these covenants more often than the Lancea Sanctum. Those who follow the Crone often relate to the Acolytes’ philosophy of challenges paving the way to enlightenment. One of the Kuufukuji’s core philosophies, after all, involves constant struggle for command of the Man and control over the part of the Kindred that is the Beast. Those who follow the Ordo Dracul appreciate that covenant’s emphasis on learning, mastery of the Man and the Beast and respect for elders, all of which are frequently taught by sires of the bloodline as well. The Hungry sometimes become philosophical siblings with those who learn the Coils of the Dragon, finding solidarity in their small victories over the blood hunger.

Some neonates find themselves drawn to the Carthian Movement, thinking that with their fledgling powers they can help bring about the changes that local chapters of that covenant desire. These Hungry sometimes try to teach their meditative powers to their fellow Carthians, often with disastrous results. Many elder Hungry look down on the Carthian Movement, mainly because one of its most basic rituals involves the exchange of possessions, and the Kuufukuji do not allow their neonates to own anything but the clothes on their backs.

Appearance: Until the last couple of hundred years, the Hungry consisted only of East Asian Kindred. As European and later American influence reached East, the culture of the East also affected the West. Although the bloodline still sees relatively few white, black or Middle Eastern Kuufukuji, Asians don’t make up one hundred percent of the population anymore.

The Hungry tend to look regally undead. Refusing to spend Vitae to force their bodies to have the appearance of living humans, they suffer the consequences of skin color that ranges from palest white to a nearly blue tint.

As numerous Kuufukuji hail from a monastic background, many tend to dress in monk’s robes. They favor the stereotypical favorite color of the Mekhet: black. Hungry who have taken the bloodline West commonly adopt the local dress to blend in, but continue to favor understated colors and simple clothes. Some Hungry have built temples under the guise of martial arts schools or museums that allow them to retain their preferred method of dress. The bloodline emphasizes the exclusion of worldly things, including personal vanity and belongings — rare is the Hungry with more than a few changes of clothes, if that. They also tend to either shave their heads or wear their hair tightly braided.

Haven:
The Hungry prefer havens that are somewhat remote. They do need access to Vitae, of course, but, ideally, they occupy temples on the outskirts of villages, retaining the image of the roles they held in life: that of monks of the solitary monastery who must send acolytes into town from time to time to acquire food.

The handful of Kuufukuji who have trickled into large Western cities such as San Francisco and Vancouver, aim for discreet apartments that they turn into sparse temple-like domiciles. These Kindred find themselves leaving their Requiems of poverty behind, preferring to do more than merely survive. Their funds, taken from either victims or allies persuaded to do business for them, are spent only on the Kuufukuji’s safe havens and on nothing else. These Kuufukuji still exist in the simplest way possible.

Still others have taken refuge in existing temples or martial arts schools, slowly and covertly killing or Embracing the owners and assuming new ownership.

Background:
A thousand years ago, Kuufukuji Embraced only monks. The Nameless Master gradually Embraced the monks of his monastery, and the bloodline spread from there. Tonight, in the best-case scenario, the childer chosen by most older Kuufukuji come from acolytes in a monastery or students in a martial arts school.

If a Hungry sire is not presiding in a temple or martial arts school, she commonly searches for possible childer with personalities that reflect a strong will and powerful mental acumen. A star student who spends a great deal of time alone fits the bill. An avid follower of Eastern thinking is also a prime target for Embrace. Some sires search for people who remain calm in the face of great stress. Some Hungry even test the boundaries of the Masquerade and purposefully create crises for potential childer in order to watch how they react. Those who panic or hide their eyes fail to make the cut, but those who act in a calm and precise manner are often cultivated further.

Character Creation:
Only those with strong presences can join the fellow Hungry in a journey to the perfection of the Man. Weaker-willed characters crumble under the weight of the balance that the journey seeks to maintain. Members of this bloodline have strong Composure and Presence. Manipulation comes in handy for high-ranking Kuufukuji. In addition, most Kuufukuji favor Physical Attributes and Skills, as martial arts come to play an important role. Kuufukuji never hide themselves behind a high-tech safety net of surveillance cameras, electric locking mechanisms and guns. The body is the most reliable weapon a Kindred has; it is always available and cannot be confiscated or corrupted. Although some players treasure Mental Skills for Kuufukuji, most players place these Skills third, knowing their characters will meditate and study ancient texts later in unlife.

Social Skills that are vital to the Hungry are Empathy, Expression, Intimidation and Subterfuge, allowing a Kuufukuji to present the balance within while testing the balance of others.

As martial artists, the Kuufukuji find that Brawl, Athletics, Stealth and Weaponry come in handy the most. In nights gone past, the elders did not allow their childer to learn Firearms, but even the oldest Kuufukuji admits these nights that such knowledge can be useful, so the elders neither condemn nor condone learning such Skills.

Even those who fast need sustenance at some point, and many Kuufukuji keep a herd for their own use and that of their childer. Fighting Merits such as Fighting Style: Boxing and Fighting Style: Kung Fu fit well with this bloodline, and the strongest Hungry have Meditative Mind.

Organization:
The organization within the Kuufukuji is formal, following the hierarchy of Japanese dojos. The Soke leads the local chapter, the inheritor of the Nameless Master’s mantle. Each city has a Soke, and on the rare chance that one Soke should meet another, they are considered equals in rank, regardless of age. Sokes are ostensibly responsible for all the Kuufukuji in the domain; a Soke inherits much of the role of Primogen as it is observed on the bloodline’s level. The punishment the Soke metes out to those who cross her is usually more terrible than a Prince’s sentence.

Below the Soke will be any number of Sempai, Kindred of enough age and experience to be considered teachers and masters themselves. They must also be obeyed by any of the Hungry. The Sempai, and the Soke, are the only Kuufukuji allowed to sire childer (within the Prince’s decree, of course). Any lower-ranking Kindred who breaks this Tradition will see his childe destroyed and suffer punishment himself. Although still leading an unlife of poverty, the Sempai have greater freedom within the domain to hunt, perform services for the Soke or other Kindred and interact with mortals, as long as the vampires do not violate the Masquerade.

The majority of the Kindred in a dojo or temple refer to themselves and each other as Gakusei. This emphasizes that everyone is a student, and may remain so for years. The unlife of a Gakusei largely involves strict adherence to the rules of the bloodline, obedience to the Soke and devotion to the Disciplines and meditation. Some Gakusei who can be trusted to control their Beast sufficiently serve as Kuufukuji liaisons and messengers in the domain. If a Gakusei is invited to hunt with a Sempai, this invitation is considered a great honor, and likely a hint that a promotion is imminent. Most Gakusei feed on animals, captive mortals or ghouls in elaborate rituals designed to quash the predator’s desire. Obedience is the best stepping stone to the honors of Sempai.

Having only three levels of bloodline hierarchy both limits infighting and adequately serves the small number of Kuufukuji in a given domain. Playing politics to graduate from Gakusei to Sempai is considered the lowest form of disrespect for both one’s Kindred siblings and the Soke. If a Gakusei disrespects the Soke, the Gakusei is likely to find himself out of the temple — and likely out of the domain, if Princely edict reinforces the bloodline’s ostracism.

Every Kuufukuji, from Gakusei to Soke, calls his sire Sensei as a term of respect and honor. Even the Nameless Master had a sire, and all sires must be honored.

Solitary Kuufukuji call themselves Ronin, but the local Soke probably refers to them as trouble at best and prey at the worse. A Kuufukuji without a master is a dangerous thing indeed.

Concepts: Eastern mystic, martial arts student, monk, nomad, prostitute, sage priest, sin-eating martyr, street urchin, understanding Primogen, wandering confessor

THE HUNGRY WHORES
A few factions of Kuufukuji around the world claim that their parent clan is Daeva, insisting that a prostitute Embraced the Nameless Master, making her an arguable predecessor of the bloodline, if not its progenitor.

Whether this is true or not, Kindred of these factions do seem markedly different from members of the bloodline in other cities, often having a better flair for congress with mortals than the secretive Mekhet. In addition to acting more overtly than most of the Kuufukuji, these Daeva Kindred also learn the Majesty and Vigor Disciplines instead of the Mekhet Disciplines of Auspex and Obfuscate.

The Kuufukuji of other domains say only that if one meditates and searches the soul enough, anything is possible, but no matter what one learns, the past is unchangeable.

Regardless of this internal schism, many Kuufukuji keep herds of prostitutes and use them to bring in some of the money that keeps the temples and monasteries solvent. Not very monastic, true, but being Damned is not very monastic either, and changes happen in unlife.

Although few among in Kindred society know it, the Kuufukuji who do not acknowledge the prostitute as the Daeva mother of the bloodline have been surreptitiously hunting those who do. The “Hungry Whores,” as the Mekhet Kuufukuji call them, exist only in a few cities in the East, though at least one faction has surfaced in North America. This grudge is subtle and roils beneath the radar of even these Kindred, consisting mostly of character assassination and quiet vendetta rather than street brawls.

These warring sides of the same coin may essentially be two different bloodlines. They have an entangled history and a shared mystic property of the blood, but they are not the same thing. The “Hungry Whores” can fit in a chronicle as freedom fighters who wish to free a prostitute herd of the Hungry, claiming that they deserve to be honored more. Many of the of the Daeva Kuufukuji are former prostitutes themselves, who feel that during their lives they were used and tossed away. To use prostitutes as sustenance is even more degrading than sex, and these former prostitutes do not feel the Kuufukuji honor the sire of the clan by their feeding practices.

Those of Les Gens Libres bloodline believe in freedom above all else. Members of the bloodline are Embraced from those who were subject to a cruel or unjust exercise of authority or power. Among their ranks might be a former slave, an ex-criminal, a prisoner of war, a man who has suffered a life of poverty in the hands of a corrupt government, or a battered woman trapped in an abusive relationship. In death, those chosen to become a part of Les Gens Libres finally find freedom. The Gens Libres are a rebellious lot, and they revel in their vampiric powers, seeing their abilities as tools that can be utilized to turn the tables on their oppressors and liberate those who are still oppressed.

Members of the Gens Libres bloodline typically belong to no covenant, finding the very notion of an organized hierarchy oppressive. They operate independently of established systems, sometimes alone, but more often in groups, to further their cause. Les Gens Libres are vigilante freedom fighters — self-proclaimed defenders of those who are oppressed by authority. To Les Gens Libres, the world quivers in anticipation each night, waiting for revolution.

History and Culture: Bloodline historians have never been able to pinpoint who exactly was the founder of the bloodline, but it is widely believed that the line is relatively recent in the grand scheme of things. The bloodline clearly originated in Saint Domingue (modern-day Haiti), sometime shortly before or during the Haitian Revolution at the end of the 18th century. Originally, members of the bloodline were Kindred turned from Haitian slaves, still burning with unforgotten hatred remaining from their mortal lives held in bondage. As the years passed, the bloodline grew to encompass a much wider range of cultural backgrounds — any of those among the masses who have been oppressed, and who believe in freedom above all else. Freedmen often choose to belong to no covenant, wishing instead to devote themselves utterly to their cause.

With the European tradition no longer threatened by the blasphemous practices of the Kindred of the first wave, there was very little left to do in Saint Domingue but systematically destroy those who remained. According to most records, that is precisely what happened.

But the truth is far more sinister where Les Gens Libres are concerned. Rather than kill the remaining Kindred slaves, the elders of the second wave corralled those who remained and developed a means of tracking their blood and the blood of any childe they sired. They bred out the Gangrel’s troublesome tendency to grow horrific claws, and instead they purposefully developed in the line an affinity for staying hidden — at least, from anyone who didn’t know how to find them. After the bloodline cemented itself, the founders of Les Gens Libres bloodline were set loose in the world to multiply. The elders of the second wave did this so that a new, relatively weak bloodline could serve as a food source for vampires who had grown too powerful to sustain themselves on human blood. Even tonight, certain vampires know how to use the tracking method devised by the Kindred of the second wave. The information on how to find Kindred of the Gens Libres bloodline can be bought for a high price by those influential enough to acquire it. The unpleasant truth of the Freedmen’s origins has, thus far, not come to light — or at least, no Freedmen still extant seem to know this truth.

Kindred who are initiated into Les Gens Libres must show their dedication to the cause by freeing a mortal (or, in some cases, a vampire) from some oppressor. An oppressor in this sense may or may not be a person. It may be a government, an unhealthy situation, or physical bindings, such as shackles or a prison cell. The fact the some people may not want to be free is, in most cases, a concept that Les Gens Libres cannot (or do not wish to) understand. They look upon those who willingly subject themselves to servitude as utterly deluded, and sometimes choose to end their lives rather than let them continue to suffer slavery.

Reputation: In small numbers, Kindred with more traditional ideals generally see Les Gens Libres as nothing more than a loud and annoying nuisance. When their numbers swell, however, their strength becomes formidable, and not many are more adept at garnering support for their cause than are the Freedmen. As such, the bloodline tends to be closely monitored to ensure they remain contained and easily controlled.

For the most part, Les Gens Libres are on relatively friendly terms with the Carthians. Though their motives and methods may differ, the two groups both share a similar progressive attitude. The groups may occasionally find common ground and work together to achieve a mutual goal.

Concepts: Vigilante, jaded ex-military officer, fervent patriot, rebellious teenager, disgruntled blue-collar worker, misguided rabble-rouser, guerilla warrior, falsely-accused ex-convict, zealous visionary, charismatic politician

The Libitinarius bloodline began as a mortal cult hidden behind the scenes of University College in the 1880s. It is a manifestation of Europe’s renewed scholarly interest in classical art and culture in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The so-called Morticians have successfully resurrected ancient mortuary rituals and funerary magic through the mystic properties of the Blood. Tonight, Libitinarius Kindred are the undertakers and funeral priests of the Damned, preparing the corpses and spirits of vampires for the long deathlike sleep of torpor.

In 1884, a wealthy and idle Englishman named Ivor Gardner began funding the harmless ritual ceremonies of a few overenthusiastic classics professors of University College in London. Originally, the ceremonies were little more than a colorful way of paying respects to the ancient peoples the professors were studying every day. Due to their interest in religion in the Ptolemaic era, the professors centered many of their rituals on Serapis, a composite god combining elements of Osiris, the Apis bull of Memphis and various other Hellenistic deities. The ceremonies were secret only because the professors were embarrassed to be spending their time singing in Latin and reciting Egyptian “spells.”

With the addition of Gardner’s interest and money, however, the monthly ceremonies became more and more elaborate. Before long, Gardner was bringing other visitors and guests with him and the ceremonies had become something more akin to costume parties. The ceremonies were kept secret if only because exclusivity is attractive.

In October of 1885, however, Ivor Gardner died at just 44 years of age. In his will, Gardner indicated his desire to be buried by his professorial friends in a suitable ancient ceremony. In exchange, he left a considerable fortune to the “secret society of Serapis.” In honor of Gardner, the professors buried him according to the funeral customs of the Roman goddess of corpses, death and funerals — Libitina. Somehow, between the richly funded grandeur of the ceremony and the real pathos of the participants, the motives of the attendees changed. By 1886, the ceremonial club that had jokingly called itself the “society of Serapis” had become a cult of Libitina.

In 1888, the cult drew the attention of a corpse. One of the original ceremonialist professors, Dr. Henry Weeks, was a ghoul in service to a vampire of the Ordo Dracul. Weeks provided his master with access to the university’s library and facilities, and Weeks’ master provided him with Vitae and tales from ancient Kindred. After learning of the cult, Weeks’ master slowly insinuated himself into the cult as a figurehead and idol… and revealing himself as a vampire to the cultists.

Pairing the resources of the mortal professors and the Ordo Dracul, the cult became a formidable collection of minds and texts. The cult and the Dragons, through Weeks, cultivated knowledge of Ptolemaic religious practices and spells of the ancient world. Due to the unnatural needs of the Dragons and the funerary expertise of the cultists, the focus of the group’s occult studies remained on Greek and Roman interpretations of Egyptian mortuary magic. The beginnings of the Mortualia Discipline were coming together in those nights, and Weeks and his master knew it.

By 1891, Kindred of other covenants were also interacting with London’s cult of Libitina. Not long after, the question of the Embrace was brought up again and again among the living and the undead of the cult. In 1892, Weeks was Embraced by his master for the purposes of taking over as the “risen mouthpiece for the dead” within the cult. Shortly thereafter, Weeks oversaw the performance of an ancient Greco-Roman funeral ritual held for the benefit of his aged sire. Using artifacts and incantations gathered over the past few years, the cult of Libitina prepared the body of Weeks’ sire for its long sleep — for torpor. The climax of the ceremony was the casting of an Egyptian funeral spell and the accidental destruction of the ancient urn on which it was inscribed.

Something went wrong. Weeks and the other Dragons couldn’t explain precisely what might have hap- pened, but the broken relic and the spoken spell did produce a magical effect of some kind. The magic of the spell was infused into the blood of Weeks — the only non-torpid vampire at the ceremony — and transformed his love for his sleeping sire, his tangible Damnation and his intangible hope for the future into an potent new mixture of the Blood, which Weeks held onto with all his will — he refused to let the power of the spell in his blood “separate” or thin. Within a year of his Embrace, Weeks had become the founder of a new bloodline. It was a remarkable achievement for a young vampire, and suggested that Weeks had an intuitive understanding of the Blood and an incredible understanding of the mortuary magic he had studied for so many years.

Weeks named his bloodline “Libitinarius,” after the Libitina-worshipping morticians of the classical world. By 1911, he’d gathered a small circle of fellow Morticians around him, drawn from the ranks of both the Order and the university. Weeks completed his exploration of the Mortualia Discipline in 1901 and began to guide his fellow Morticians in its use soon after.

Tonight, Weeks continues to practice the art of Mortualia at the behest Princes and Regents throughout England and Europe.

Cult of Libitina
Such is the story shared by the Libitinarii, at least. More than a few of Weeks’ fellow Dragons suspect it’s fiction, invented by Weeks and his absent master for the purpose of getting the artifacts and texts they wanted altogether in one place. An investigation performed by a London Dragon in 1954 turned up suspiciously little evidence of any professor named Weeks working at University College during the time of Weeks’ tale. In 1978, an Acolyte occultist and historian in Rome found evidence of Kindred “torpor burials” from the 11th century that make use of many trappings of the Libitinarius line — Roman-styled canopic jars for storing Vitae, etched incantations and “waking charms” with many similarities to those used in modern Mortualia.

How is it possible that Weeks became the sire of a bloodline so soon after his Embrace? How is it possible that he gained mastery over the powers of his Blood so quickly? Was it really the result of an “ancient incantation?” Some of the scientific minds within the Order remain skeptical. Occam’s Razor suggests a simpler alternative story is more likely: Weeks is a liar.

Except for a core group of loyal followers, Weeks’ tale was witnessed only by mortals (now dead) and the torpid body of his mysterious master (who has not yet awakened). No impartial participants remain to corroborate the account tonight. How much of it is misremembered nostalgia? How much of it is outright fiction? How much of it is true?

Buried
It is more likely, say the skeptics, that the Libitinarius bloodline is old — even ancient — and that Weeks and his absent master (if he truly exists) were among the last of their kind. Perhaps Weeks was already a member of the bloodline when he came upon the Society of Serapis. Perhaps Weeks even orchestrated the very formation of the society and the subsequent cult of Libitina to create a flock of followers and win the bloodline some temporal power.

Kindred scholars of various covenants have speculated that the mystic aspects of the Blood may lay dormant in childer for generations, as the echoes of power from a distant sire. Though the childer may not activate the power of the Blood within themselves, it may yet be passed on to grandchilder. Thus, even centuries after a bloodline dies out, it might be resurrected when a distant descendant transforms his Vitae and his Requiem into a sanguine mixture like that of his ancestors’. Perhaps it’s possible that Weeks’ story was essentially true when it first happened centuries (or even millennia) ago in Rome or Alexandria.

THE IMAGINARY VAMPIRE
The grimmest and most dramatic of the Libitinarius conspiracy theories suggests that Weeks’ sire is a figment of his imagination, given some semblance of existence in the minds of his followers through the powers of Dominate. Some of Weeks’ tales suggest his sire was so ancient, and had so many names, that his “real name” had become meaningless. Practitioners of Dominate could see that as a way to cover for the inconsistencies of altered memories. Scholars of Egyptian theology and the occult could speculate that a being without a “true name” does not truly exist.

On the other hand, perhaps Weeks needed to create a cover story to protect himself, his sire or the bloodline itself. What if the true origin of the Libitinarius bloodline was rooted in some dark crime, such as diablerie? Perhaps the first Libitinarius was altered by the blood of a mage or other supernatural creature? Perhaps the secrets of Mortualia were dug up from some vampiric tomb that Weeks wants to keep to himself?

Whatever the truth, the Order has not yet had sufficient reason to challenge Weeks’ story. For a century, Weeks has been a loyal, if shy, member of the covenant and an aid to its allies. Though some among the Sworn continue to keep watch on the Morticians, their scrutiny has been applied with exquisite patience for 50 years and isn’t likely to change until some new facts are unearthed. One night, if the tale is true, Week’s sire will awaken…

Covenant: The first Libitinarius Kindred were members of the Ordo Dracul even before Dr. Weeks founded the bloodline in 1892. When Ivor Gardner’s Serapis cult expanded beyond the Masquerade, it drew the attention of numerous Acolytes. Those Acolytes then brought the Blood of Libitina to the Circle of the Crone. Tonight, the Libitinarius bloodline continues to be made up almost solely of Acolytes and Dragons. Invictus and Carthian vampires may deal with Morticians in any domain where they can be found, depending more on the interests of the individual Kindred and less on politics. Sanctified Kindred of some domains focus on the shared Greco-Egyptian influences on Theban Sorcery and Mortualia and even participate in Libitinarius ceremonies as secular performances. In other domains, the Sanctified regard Morticians as admirably learned providers of a service that has been sadly and needlessly draped in the trappings of pagan idolatry.

Appearance: Libitinarius Kindred come from all races and both genders. As academics, many favor a classical, professorial style. As ageless undead historians, many also find ways to incorporate archaic or classical art styles in their dress. Scarab brooches, old-fashioned beards or mustaches and ornate rings or necklaces are common among older Libitiniarii. Younger Morticians may sport Latin or Egyptian tattoos, elaborate body piercings and other physical decorations from their mortal lives as archaeology students. Some Libitinarii display downright archaic fashions even outside of their Mortualia ceremonies, such as faux-Egyptian eye make-up and Roman-style dresses.

Haven: Many Morticians keep havens that suggest nothing of their unique blood — they nest very much as any other Kindred might. The ideal haven for a Libitinarius, however, is as secret and secure as a Theban tomb. Underground chambers protected by secret doors and modern security systems are ideal. Solid stone or metal sarcophagi are used by some Morticians, for protection as much as style. Most Morticians seek out havens that could house them safely through decades of torpor, if necessary.

Some Libitinarii also maintain havens for other torpid vampires. Often these are little more than storage containers, mausoleums and cellars with solid locks and sturdy doors. These “torpor tombs” may see any number of temporary residents throughout a Mortician’s Requiem. The favors and allies a Libitinarius gains by protecting and maintaining such havens can be considerable.

Background: Libitinarii select progeny almost exclusively from the ranks of academia. Simple scholarly types are seldom impressive enough to warrant a Mortician’s Embrace, however — only leaders in their fields deserve to experience the development of their studies over centuries. Historians, archaeologists, and anthropologists are typical favorites. The Morticians are, after all, selecting students and colleagues as much as childer when they consider potential progeny. Most Morticians are driven to sire childer out of a desire to put a mortal’s talents to use for the covenant, the bloodline or themselves. More emotional Libitinarii select progeny out of a desire to show them eternity, introduce them to ancient Kindred and freely share what they know of the past from their own experience.

As a matter of practice, rather than philosophy, a large segment of the Libitinarius bloodline is made up of subjects to the Queen of England. Most Morticians, it seems, have an English accent, whether they learned the language in Calcutta, Cairo, Rome or London.

Character Creation: Libitinarii tend to favor higher Mental Attributes, particularly Intelligence and Resolve. The rites and ceremonies of the Libitinarius bloodline are most impressively performed by characters with high Social Attributes, however. Because the Mortualia Discipline requires the creation of certain tools and charms, the Crafts Skill is also invaluable to a Mortician.

A Libitinarius who tends to the torpor-haven of another vampire (or, indeed, any Mortician who discusses Mortualia with outsiders) would benefit from dots in Subterfuge if he values the secrets he keeps. The Academics and Occult Skills are also plainly useful to a Libitinarius; most Morticians were the sorts of humans who studied those Skills in life.

A Mortician with City or Covenant Status might have a reputation as the go-to guy for Kindred concerned with torpor. The Haven Merit is vital to many Morticians, as well. Haven Security almost always takes priority over Size and Location.

Organization: Libitinarius vampires naturally fall into informal hierarchies based on education and experience with Mortualia. In general, these Kindred interact something like a university professors. Age and experience is respected, and often deferred to, by younger Morticians, but colleagues of similar ages place a greater practical importance on skill than age. An ancient, experienced Libitinarius is more likely to be loved but a brilliant and clever Libitinarius is more likely to be followed.

Because Morticians love to talk, debate and lecture, they also tend to swell their ranks in domains where they reside. Thus, in many domains, Libitinarii are seen as a social group rather than a lineage. Certainly, some domains are home to a lone Libitinarius, but eventually most seek out contact with other history buffs, antiquarians or armchair archaeologists to satisfy their minds.

Concepts: Disturbed surgeon, Egyptologist, funeral home director, hospice nurse, occult archaeologist, pagan priest, Roman religion revivalist, taxidermist, undertaker.

Light is noise. Darkness is the absence of that noise.

At least, that’s how the Nosferatu of the Lygos lineage see it. To them, the darkness is pure. It envelops them. For lack of a better term, it embraces them. They are the pillbugs and maggots underneath a darkened log. They are ribbons of shadow deeper than the shades of night itself. Light is garish. It does not reveal: it only confuses. When light shines upon a vampire of the Lygos, he hisses and spits and retreats from the luminous intrusion.

That part isn’t all that hard to understand, really. The Nosferatu are aberrant either physically or spiritually (for some, it’s both), and the darkness is a place of hiding, of safety, and of advantage. Plus, they’re vampires. Light is anathema to all the Damned, at least to a degree.

But the Lygos? They worship the darkness. It is a living thing, to them. It has no name, and it has no face (for darkness is all-consuming, and one could not see its face regardless), but it is a real thing, an encompassing entity deserving of veneration. A Nosferatu of the Lygos whispers prayers and entreaties to the darkness to keep them safe if not sane. He begs the darkness to swallow his enemies. He might even leave little treats and baubles behind as gifts for the shadows, and none are surprised when those trifles go missing by moonrise the next night.

Cronies?
It might seem natural for these Nosferatu to belong to the Circle of the Crone, and this is true for some. But to most, the darkness is well-beyond the bloody fundamentals espoused by the cults of the Crone. Darkness predates everything. Before the world was drawn up out of beautiful chaos, there lingered only impenetrable darkness—the Crone might be a granddaughter of that darkness, but that doesn’t automatically make her the deified matron of the Lygos.

History and Culture: The Lygos won’t admit to this story, not ever. And it might not even be true (even though they fear that it is): once in the lands of Egypt there lurked a powerful Mekhet known as Nebt-Het Asenath. Asenath was said to be a childe of Longinus, the Dark Father, and was rebelling against him and hoping to stir awake old gods who might come to spite her sire. And so she walked to Ethiopia where there waited an old church buried beneath the ground, covered up because it had been made home to fallen gods, the Lord’s touch erased from the stone. In uncovering the church she discovered a nest of torpid vampires: wretched, pale Nosferatu who had dwelled too long in the dark. They awoke when she troubled their grave, and they swarmed her. It is said that it wasn’t one who performed the diablerie, but all of them together in grim simultaneity. In consuming the Vitae and soul of this potent Shadow, this clutch of Worms suffered what some say was a terrible corruption and what others (those of the bloodline) claim to have been a powerful revelation. They became the Lygos, servants of the darkness, adherents of shadow.

For the most part, the Lygos in modern nights stay far the hell away from the tempests and incests of the Damned, preferring instead to remain in the darkest places the city presents, a hissing nest of monsters. They usually do “elect” a representative, though, a bridge between the world of the rest of the Damned and the darkness of the Lygos. This go-between communes with both sides, and ushers favors and requests where appropriate.

The Lynx are the youngest bloodline affiliated with the Invictus. Indeed, it is a mere matter of months since the first Kindred of this bloodline’s third generation manifested the line’s distinctive powers, thus confirming that the Lynx truly is a bloodline — and not merely the quirk of a bizarre vampire. As a result, not all Kindred who know of the Lynx know that they are truly a bloodline, and those Kindred who recognize the name are a select, but growing, group.

The Lynx themselves never refer to themselves as a bloodline, insisting that they are a blood web, instead. As the line does contain a handful of Kindred who are not direct descendants of the founder, Martin Thomas, there is even some justification for the claim, as the lines of relationship do not all flow straight down. However, that is true of many bloodlines, and most Kindred refer to the Lynx in the normal way, regarding their insistence on different terminology as merely one more manifestation of the bloodline’s obsession.

That obsession is networks. Martin Thomas was fascinated by networks, particularly communications and commercial networks, even before his Embrace. He managed to map the physical connections in his local telephone network and was working on a map showing the connections between all local businesses. There were lines showing who bought from whom, who owed money to whom and which businesses banded together to lobby for changes. The shape of the network convinced Thomas that there was at least one player in the scene who had no public face at all. Thomas was careful to make no direct inquiries, concentrating instead on building up a picture from indirect evidence, because the possibility that this player was an outfit of organized crime had occurred to him.

The possibility that it was a vampire had not. Natasha Danilov, a Mekhet, realized that someone was snooping around her business connections and, suspecting an enemy, conducted her own investigations. When she found out that Thomas was independent, and apparently motivated by nothing but curiosity, she decided that he would make a valuable servant, and Embraced him.

The transition to undeath was a major shock to Thomas, and he was not the asset that Danilov had hoped for. He retreated from society, obsessing over the details of networks, trying to discover everything, but with no desire to do anything with the information. A few patient Kindred used him as a source of information, but it took so long to coax anything out of him that there was almost always a faster source for what they wanted to know.

The coming of the Internet changed everything. Thomas was involved almost from the beginning, unable to resist being involved in a worldwide network. In the days before the Web, there were newsgroups, and Thomas found himself fascinated by the social networks revealed in the postings. One day, he was unable to resist experimenting, and posted to a group.

Within a week he was hooked, posting to many newsgroups and spending the whole night posting and downloading over a slow modem. Within a month, he was well known on a number of groups, and after one poster noticed that he only ever posted at night, local time, he was nicknamed “the Vampire.”

As Thomas tells it, that was the critical moment. He realized that he was, indeed, a vampire, and could not hide by burying himself in networks. He emerged from his cocoon, re-entered the Danse Macabre and quickly made a name for himself as a purveyor of information. By the time he had gathered enough power to found his own bloodline, the World Wide Web had arrived, and he chose the name Lynx for his progeny. The lynx had, in legend, eyes so sharp it could see through walls, and networks are, of course, made of links. But the original motive was Lynx, an early web browser. Thomas always remained a bit of a geek.

All members of the bloodline share Thomas’ fascination with networks of all sorts (particularly electronic and commercial), although social and political networks have received more attention in recent years. Thomas himself is still highly active, maintaining electronic communication with all members of the bloodline, although young and unimportant Kindred do not hear from him very often. Those who meet him in person are generally surprised: Thomas is African American and big. He isn’t fat — he is tall and broad-boned, with the result that he looks like he should be a bouncer, not a networking geek.

Nickname: By popular standards, the Lynx have no nickname (or, by the reckoning of many formal Invictus, they have only a nickname). In some domains, the bloodline is called “the Links,” however, and a single vampire of its lineage is known as a Link.

Covenant: Most Lynx are members of the Invictus, primarily because that was the covenant Thomas joined after his Embrace, at his sire’s instructions, and he has never left. These Kindred quickly master the networks of loyalty within the covenant, and their mastery of modern technology (or, at least, the Internet) tends to make them valuable to more senior Kindred, giving them an edge when it comes to climbing the hierarchy.

However, the bloodline’s philosophy does not tie the Lynx closely to the Invictus. Indeed, the Carthian philosophy is much closer to the Lynx’s interests, providing more opportunities for elaborate networks of loyalty that are not constrained by authority from above. As a result, the second-largest group in the bloodline are Carthians, a situation that is already generating some tension and will produce more if the bloodline grows.

Members of the bloodline do join other covenants, but do so for personal reasons. There are, however, very few unaligned Lynx. The Lynx are natural joiners, as that embeds them in yet another network, and, therefore, few Lynx pass up the chance to join a covenant.

Appearance: The appearance of the Lynx varies wildly, depending in large part on the sorts of networks they are interested in. A vampire fascinated by the sewage network of a large city will look, and smell, very different from a vampire mainly involved in the social networks of high society. Racially, they cover the full gamut.

However, as the most popular networks with the bloodline are electronic and commercial, most members fall into one of two groups. Those whose interest is primarily electronic wear practical clothes and often look rather geeky. These Lynx are never without some form of wireless link to the Internet, even in an area where they cannot make a connection, and tend to get very sulky if guards try to take the link away from them. The commercial side of the bloodline dress in conservative business suitsand are slightly less attached to their cell phones. What all Lynx have in common is that each could fit perfectly into a gathering of people with an interest in the same sort of network. In another context the Lynx might stand out, but, on their own ground, they are perfectly at home.

Haven: The truly unifying feature of Lynx havens is a broadband Internet connection, generally the fastest that the vampire can support. Even those Lynx who are mainly interested in other sorts of networks make sure that they are connected to the Internet, because it’s useful for just about everything. Beyond that, the haven reflects the networking interests of its owner.

Lynx who are actually most into electronic networks have havens filled with computers and cables. They normally have at least one physical network separate from the Internet, where they can play with new ideas for network geometries and such. Commercial Lynx have havens suitable for entertaining the players in the higher levels of commerce. In general, these havens look more like functional rooms, labs and offices than homes, as the vampires do not want to give the impression that they live there.

The havens of Lynx with other interests vary greatly. A Lynx with an interest in the sewage networks of a city could have a haven in the sewers, while a Lynx studying the delivery network might have a haven in a major distributor’s warehouse. Lynx obsessed with social networks have havens in the thick of the city’s party neighborhoods, entertainment districts and planned communities.

Background: Lynx childer fall into one of two categories, on the whole. The first are those who show a deep interest in a particular sort of network. It is most common for this to be the same sort of network as the sire studies, but this is only because the Lynx are more likely to become aware of mortals with such an interest. Those Lynx who become aware of promising mortals with an interest in different sorts of network often petition to Embrace them, to broaden their own influence. These vampires usually find that they fit fairly well into the culture of the bloodline, and most choose to awaken the potential of their blood.

The second main group is composed of mortals who have power over part of the network that a vampire is interested in. These Kindred are Embraced purely to further their sires’ ambitions and reach, and the childer often find that they do not fit into Lynx society at all: you are not necessarily interested in the precise flows of money through a city just because you are a mover-and-shaker in commerce. Some Lynx, of course, do fit in, but many choose not to awaken their blood and join the bloodline proper.

The Lynx are, as noted above, willing to adopt other Mekhet with no descent from Thomas. The Lynx believe that this makes the bloodline stronger, as extending the bloodline makes it into more of a net and less of a chain. Almost any Mekhet interested enough to want to join the Lynx meets their standards for acceptance.

Character Creation: Mental or Social Attributes tend to be the most important, depending on whether the character’s interest is in abstract or human networks. A few Lynx, who are interested in wholly physical networks and like climbing around in them, have Physical Attributes as primary. Social Merits, particularly Allies and Contacts, are extremely common; indeed, it’s an unusual Lynx who has no dots at all in these. Computer, Investigation and Socialize are very common Skills, although a Lynx’s Skill choices are, naturally, very strongly influenced by his network of interest.

The Haven Location and Haven Security Merits are of great importance to many Lynx, though Haven Size is rarely so valuable. Status is something a Lynx appreciates and studies but doesn’t necessarily seek to gain. Merits like Herd, Contacts and Allies are popular with social Lynx, who are fascinated by the social circles and degrees of separation such acquaintances can lead to. Finally, all Lynx learn Web, as that Discipline is extremely helpful to anyone trying to manipulate networks.

Organization: The Lynx are, naturally, organized into a network. Thomas studies this network, and ensures that it is always organized so that, if a number of Lynx are destroyed, no more than half that number of Lynx can be put out of contact with the rest of the bloodline. This means that every Lynx must know at least two others, and at least one is generally in a different city. The Lynx expect members to keep contacts between cities alive, but accept the reality that contacts within one city are far more important.

Within the network, there is very little in the way of hierarchy. Obviously, Thomas receives a great deal of respect as the founder of the bloodline, but he isn’t the kind to issue orders. Nor, come to that, are most of the other members of the bloodline; they prefer to get things done by the subtle pulling of strings.

Concepts: Internet geek, criminal fixer, owner of a logistics business (trucks, trains, boats, or similar), obsessive sewer rat, nomad always riding the roads or rails, the socialite who is everyone’s friend, official at the Prince’s court keeping track of all in the city and what they want, alliance-building politician, scion of ancient nobility carefully tracking all his relatives out to the nth degree, urban ecologist studying the food webs of the metropolis (from the top)

You’re lost. At midnight, the roads all seem to tangle. The street signs are hard to read —did that one have mud on it? Doesn’t it contradict the other one you saw, about five miles back? No gas stations out this way that aren’t closed up husks, just silhouettes against the dark night. But then you see it: a roadhouse, just down the way. All lit up like a beer-advertising Christmas tree. You think that, well, maybe it’s time to ask directions. Maybe grab a road beer, too; the wife won’t mind, she’s asleep next to you. You go in. But you won’t come out. Your wife, maybe she’ll live. Maybe they’ll let her live. Then again… maybe not.

See, some Gangrel don’t like to go out and hunt. Why should they, when they can make the prey come to them? The world is home to countless pockets of isolation: lost highways, ghost towns, depressed economies. Places where people go astray, usually on accident, sometimes on purpose. Those of the Mabry blood, well, they just set up shop and wait for the blood to start trickling in.

History and Culture: It started in the late 1800s way up in Alaska and the Yukon. A Savage by the name of Carlton Clyde Mabry lived out in the whipping snow and howling winds with his “boys,” the childer he’d chosen from the leagues of mushers and miners. Mabry started to get a bit greedy, though: the blood they were able to get most nights was wan, thin, rare. He wanted more. Liked the hot feeling throughout his body. So they set up a roadhouse along the Klondike Highway,set back just a ways from the snowed-over road that so often saw dog- and horse-sleds traverse its length. They let the torches flicker in the cold night, those fires doing all the advertising for them. Travelers would have a chance to disembark from the trail. They’d think they were getting a bowl of porridge and maybe some hot cider, but what they really got was a face full of teeth as Mabry and his boys fed. When the time’d come, they’d tear down that roadhouse and set up another one further up or down the trail or on another road altogether.

The tradition has since continued. Mabry’s boys (which now include quite a few girls, because damn if that doesn’t bring in the marks) now set up shop all over the place. Bars, strip clubs, mountain diners… one coterie was even said to have set up a whole carnival to draw in the wayward masses.

Some coteries are more brutal than others, needing to hide bodies more often than not. Others are unusually humane: bring in a lost family or a vanload of college students, get them drunk or otherwise fucked up, take enough blood to leave them passed out on the floor, then drive them far enough out of the way so they’ll never find their way back. (That there is a “win-win situation”).

Reputation: Amongst other Gangrel, those of the Mabry blood are lazy, like rock snakes hiding in the dark waiting for food to pass on by. Amongst the Damned in general, well, most don’t know shit about the Mabry, and even when they do they don’t figure them for a bloodline (which is, of course, a relatively new one compared to more ancient lineages).

The Macellarius are as much gracious hosts as they are grotesque gluttons. Make no mistake — these Kindred are Ventrue down to the marrow in their dead bones. Spawned in the nights of mad, decadent Rome, the Macellarius come from the oldest of money, cherish their ancestral roots and are desperate to rise once again to the top of the ranks like so much clotted cream. They simply see themselves as Ventrue with — rarefied tastes. These vampires find nothing wrong with preserving their unique predilections. Providing the Kindred with an epicurean pedigree is the Macellarius’ natural duty, an essential obligation that few Kindred are willing to indulge. Oh, sure, the curse is a curse, it’s awful, bloody awful, but that doesn’t mean one cannot attempt to enjoy those staid moments caught in the throes of this ceaseless ennui. There’s nothing wrong with indulging in one’s own hungry proclivities from time to time, is there?

Unfortunately, few others see it that way. The Kindred whisper about those of the Macellarius lineage, muttering about their unspeakable appetites and ruthless initiative. Everyone knows that these obese, unsightly creatures do not merely drink blood. They swallow it by cheek-stuffed mouthfuls, consuming it in gulps and gobbles. They drain body after body, even going so far as to bottle the stuff, seeing themselves as gourmandizing vintners of exceptional draughts of Vitae.

Worse, most “Gluttons” don’t stop there. Many of these vampires carry the already gruesome act of consumption one step further, eating the bodies of their victims. The Damned can’t eat food, not really, but some among the Macellarius can — provided that the food is the raw flesh of a mortal body. The Gluttons who partake in this peculiar delight do so with great abandon, forcing countless gobbets of human meat into their withered guts. They swallow the bloody chunks whole, and bask in the resultant power.

Long have they dwelled on the fringes, waiting in the periphery of the Danse Macabre, content to host their parties and dine upon death. But, recently, their hungers have pushed many of them out of the darkness and again into the world of the other Kindred. The Macellarius are thirsty for more, salivating for another taste of temporal power and unworldly pleasure. Will the other Kindred stand in the Gluttons’ way? Or will Kindred society welcome these gluttonous powerbrokers back into the fold?

Covenant:
The Invictus is a natural home for the Macellarius. These vampires associate themselves with that most distant of vampiric covenants, the Camarilla, and, therefore, the Invictus is of particular attraction to this bloodline. (The Sanctified are too concerned with spiritual nonsense to be of use to most Macellarius. They are far too interested in worldly pleasures to find any comfort within the Lancea Sanctum.) The Acolytes of the Circle make too much trouble for themselves, while the Carthians don’t know the taste of true power. A rare few Gluttons have gone to the Ordo Dracul (some have a deeply experimental nature and may believe themselves to be more “evolved” than other vampires due to their sometime ability to consume human flesh), but most Gluttons stick with the First Estate. The Invictus does not punish the cutthroat spirit of hungry vampires, and, in fact, encourages such behavior. The vampires of the Macellarius believe themselves to be ideal covenant members — better than most, if not the fi nest of all.

Appearance:
The most obvious characteristic that the vampires of this bloodline share is obesity. The Kindred of the Macellarius are unavoidably obese (see “Weakness,” below) — 200 pounds is essentially the bare minimum for the Gluttons. Many tend to Embrace larger childer, as well, meaning that several of the lineage are abhorrently fat, bloated to sizes of 400 pounds or larger. Beyond the size of these vampires, most Macellarius dress well and are groomed impeccably. They have tailor-made suits of the finest Thai silks and Egyptian cottons, and most are accustomed to wearing makeup (blush, lipstick) to appear more “human.”

However, not all Macellarius are so well-kept; many who begin to grow mad begin losing touch with the bloodline’s signature style, and grow disheveled and unkempt.

Haven:
The “families” of the Macellarius tend to own large swathes of land outside the cities, and most make their homes in these places. Many own vineyards, manor houses, luxuriant farms or other sumptuous estates. From here, the vampires exist like tumors — establishing their own blood supply and swelling in number. Not all of the bloodline stay away from the city lights, however. Many younger Macellarius seek out the sprawling urban blight and its many hidden delicacies. Such Kindred tend to make their havens in upscale suites and townhomes, often near places that offer the vampires their most favorite sensory stimulations — the smells of a fish market or a steakhouse, the sight of little children playing on a playground, the sounds of cattle and hogs being butchered and rendered.

Background:
Most Macellarius vampires were once mortal hedonists, epicures, even artists. The bloodline seeks those of especial taste, curiosity and hunger. They might be chefs, restaurateurs, butchers, writers, painters, even event planners. All Macellarius must exhibit a deep and personal commitment to good taste, manners and breeding.

Meaning, of course, that most vampires of the bloodline begin wealthy. Only a rare few “lower-class” individuals were ever allowed into the bloodline, and those who were accepted were tolerated either because they showed some rare taste or because the Embracing vampire (or Avus) was feeling cruelly ironic that day. Luxury and prosperity are of deep significance to the Macellarius. These vampires are used to having nice things, and their tastes (palate and otherwise) grow only stranger and more specific as their Requiems deepen. Possession of wealth is admittedly only a stepping stone to a true gourmand’s existence — but it is a necessary step, nevertheless.

Also, while it seems petty, a vampire’s girth goes a long way toward illustrating his suitability within the Macellarius lineage. Frankly, the fatter the better. Obesity to these creatures is no grotesquerie, but is instead the watermark of sophistication and refinement. Size is no detriment — the greater the body mass, the more affluent the vampire. Fat to them is merely a collection of sweet meat and suety tissue. Plumpness reveals a Kindred with prurient taste. Simply put, Rubenesque vampires are more likely to be chosen for this bloodline than any other; one’s own physical magnitude is equally an expression of one’s own personal power and style.

Ultimately, no matter the life once led, all Macellarius are invited into the blood because they demonstrate an unswerving commitment to fulfilling their abnormal hungers.

Character Creation:
Macellarius are likely to sport high Social Attributes and Skills — these are their tools and weapons. Similarly, Social Merits are common, as well. A Glutton may have high Stamina but low Dexterity (a direct reflection of her obese body), and may also have lower Resolve and Composure scores to show how poorly a Macellarius gives in to her baser urges.

Organization:
Every Macellarius household has three significant positions of power: the summus, medius and imus. The imus is generally a neonate, responsible for setting tables, bringing plates, arranging décor and other more menial tasks. The medius, normally an ancilla within the bloodline, is responsible for the food. If mortals will be sitting at the table, the medius prepares (or has someone prepare) mortal victuals. If vampires will be dining, he procures the blood most appropriate for the situation. He even goes so far as to feed the animals of the estate (usually horses, hounds, raptors). The summus, always an ancilla or elder, is the host. While all Macellarius are committed to social duties during every dinner event, the summus is the one most responsible for comfort, conversation and administrating business. Even if the guest-of-honor (called the locus consularis) is actually going to be the final course of dinner, the summus still does his best to make the victim feel at home and at ease. These three roles generally only come into play during those times when the family is entertaining; otherwise, the eldest of the house makes all the rules, whether he is the summus or not.

Ultimately, this means that most Macellarius havens are home to three or more of the blood. They stick together; family is important, after all. Where there is one Glutton, there are at least two more, equally friendly — and ravenous.

Concepts: Cultured drug addict, deranged socialite, event planner, exquisite gourmand, Master of Elysium, repulsive Harpy, serial cannibal, sous chef, venture capitalist, wealthy hedonist

The Malintzin are a vampiric manifestation of wealthy mestizos, the mixed-blooded traitors and collaborators who joined the ranks of the Spanish conquistadors and delivered Mexico into their hands. The name Malintzin is even derived from the iconic betrayer of the Aztecs, the Nahua woman who served Cortés as translator and eventually became his wife: La Malinche. To the Spaniards she was known by the noble name of Doña Marina. To the Nahua, she was Malintzin.

Tonight, La Malinche remains a complex character. She is a vilified traitor, responsible for aiding the Spanish in the destruction of the Aztecs and hated for her abandonment of her own people. At the same time, she is seen by many as an icon of Nahua victimization — if she had not been at Cortés’s side, she would have fallen under his sword like so many of her people.

La Malinche may be responsible for the survival of Aztec culture beyond the death of its rulers and capitols. Her marriage to Cortés may be symbolic of her betrayal, but the birth of their son represents the creation of a new hybrid culture blending Indian and European ways. She was a woman who had once been traded as a slave from the Aztecs to the Maya to the Spanish. Can it be surprising that she would have no love for the empire that enslaved her?

The vampires who took her name represent the worst of the mestizos stereotype. They see themselves as noble realists who have risen above the “noble savagery” of their Indian blood to join the ranks of the winning team. “The victory of the Spanish reveals their superiority,” say the Malintzin. To them, the preservation of Nahua culture is charity, a merciful gift given to a defeated people on behalf of one of their own, who was savvy enough to see how the conquest of New Spain would end.

In the minds of most other Mexican Kindred, whether Indian, European or mestizos themselves, the Malintzin are a bloody, snobbish manifestation of turncoat colonialism. The Malintzin are said to have been Embraced by Spanish greed — damning in its own way — as all Kindred are Embraced by the Blood. Malintzin are often not even regarded as being Kindred, per se, by Mexican vampires. They are neither Daeva nor Ventrue, just as mestizos are not quite Spanish or Indian.

But while any mixed-blood Mexican is still undeniably Mexican, still able to be loved and respected as a fellow compatriot, the Malintzin are typically despised and pitied. A Malintzin with power is an embodiment of selfishness and betrayal, a moronic sell-out or a bratty fop. A Malintzin with no power (a rare thing) is pathetic trash who got her comeuppance.

And yet the majority of the Malintzin remain in positions of power, protected by the colonial Damned who use them as figureheads or regarded as a simple, despicable fact of the Requiem by those vampires who survive in the gutters beneath them. The Malintzin are supernaturally powerful leaders — their formidable mystic powers have held revolutions are bay for five hundred years.

Covenant: The vast majority of Malintzin vampires belong to the Invictus. According to the official line of the bloodline’s sole formal Avus, called Malintzinita, any non-Invictus vampire that claims to be a part of her line is either a liar or a spy. The Malintzin take pride in their roles as symbolic heiresses to the conquistadors and Spanish colonials. They hold prominent (if often ceremonial) positions within the First Estate because they believe that stability is the best way to govern. The constant cycles of revolution that have plagued the mortals of Mexico only prove their point, to their minds.

Appearance: The very small number of Malintzin makes it easy to generalize their appearance. The girls who attend to the Lady Malintzin herself dress themselves in traditional pre-Colombian Aztec or Mayan garb, often coming across as re-enactors or some kind of old-fashioned wedding party. Their male counterparts dress in more modern clothing on most nights, but decorated for formal functions with accessories that evoke the Conquest: swords, breastplates and knotted, silken sashes. It’s worth noting that every male Malintzin active tonight grew a beard in preparation for their Embrace.

Haven: Most Malintzin reside in the sprawling hidden palace of Malintzinita, the bloodline’s founder and Prince of her own city. Those Malintzin that aren’t a part of the founder’s retinue nest in similar places: penthouses, lavish vaults and gilded subterranean suites mixing Spanish architecture with Aztec frescoes and indigenous Mexican plants. Gold and silver are common themes in Malintzin havens, as are animal skins and bright textiles like blankets and tapestries. Security is always of primary importance, however. Many Malintzin nest in small, luxurious havens that are hidden from common Kindred and locked to would-be rivals.

Background: To date, all Malintzin have been beautiful mestizos. Beyond that, they have only one trait in common: the affection of Malintzinita, whether as sisters, comrades or lovers. All but a few Malintzin (possibly as few as two) are young women between the ages of 16 and 21. Most were wealthy, or heirs to wealth, in life, but not all.

Character Creation: Social Skills are essential to one’s existence as a Malintzin, but those can be learned. What’s truly vital is one’s appearance: Social Attributes must be good enough either to catch the eye of Malintzinita or to compel one of her previous petitioners to risk her wrath. In practice, dots in Covenant Status: Invictus are necessary to even get an audience with the bloodline’s Avus, though clever vampires (and Storytellers) may find ways around that. A vampire with the right mindset for a Malintzin’s Requiem should already have dots in Herd and Retainer. A Malintzin should almost certainly be of mixed Indian/European blood, though going against that assumed rule could make for an interesting character concept.

Organization: The Malintzin bloodline descends from a young vampire woman known only as Malintzinita (“the Little Malinche”) tonight. She is said to have been the daughter of Hernán Cortés and Doña Marina, born in secret before the son that history remembers as theirs. Cortés wanted an heir that he could present as the First Son of Mexico (though his own greed eventually overshadowed his son’s importance), and at the time when his first-born daughter was conceived, Doña Marina was not yet recognized as a worthy woman by Cortés’s priest. So this daughter, one of the first mestizos, was hidden away.

Tonight, that daughter is the sole recognized Avus of the Malintzin bloodline and a much hated Prince in Mexico. She claims that she was cursed with undeath by God himself, but many of her subjects claim she was cursed by the betrayal of her mother and the greed of her father — that she was damned since birth to never walk beneath the Mexican sun as an adult. Any Kindred who joins the bloodline either accepts the hatred of the Malintzin in exchange for power or simply has no care for the thoughts of her fellow Damned.

Malintzinita keeps the majority of the Malintzin bloodline in her direct employ as spies, aides and advisors. A small number of vampires — possibly only one — have been given the Malintzin blood to take with them to other cities as a symbol of royal descent from the self-appointed First Daughter of the Mexica. These posturing fops are typically token mestizos vampires kept on the arm of Ventrue Princes as a means of showing their connection to “the native Kindred.”

One other vampire is said to be passing along the Malintzin bloodline: a Nahua Incubus who was supposedly once Malintzinita’s concubine. The rumor goes that he fled her city in 1911 to find some way to escape the Malintzin line, but ended up joining the ranks of some Carthian revolution in Northern Mexico.

Concepts: Evil queen, insidious scheming heiress, Mexican Marie Antoinette, party monster, Prince’s little girl, spoiled brat, traitorous step-mother, wicked step-brother.

MAlkAviANs As A BloodliNe

The basic game mechanics of the Malkavian affliction are almost identical to the basic rules for bloodlines, if you boil the issue down to a bare, passionless formula. The character takes on an additional weakness in exchange for access to a unique Discipline. Familiar.

This is by design. If you wanted to, you could recast or expand the Malkavians into a bloodline easily enough. To do this, just subtract the game rules for spreading the disease, use the game rules under “Effects of Malkavia” as the bloodline weakness, and add Dementation as the unique bloodline Discipline.

Alternately, you could simply make Malkav the progenitor of a bloodline that cannot escape the Affliction, in addition to the index case for the curse. Such a bloodline becomes a terrific dramatic tool for raising difficult questions. Would the characters be party to the annihilation of the Malkavian bloodline if it could help stop the curse? It’s not the fault of Malkav’s grandchilder, after all, that the curse exists.

The philosophy that “power corrupts” has infused the Ventrue with a deranged view of the world and makes them a fitting founding family for the Malkavians, but the Lords have no monopoly on crazy. The Malkavian curse is devised specifically so you can explore insanity through the lens of any clan – the blame for Malkavianism simply falls on the Ventrue and their inherent flaw. The ubiquity of madness can be hijacked to serve as a rationale for a Malkavian bloodline branching off in any direction.

With the right back-story, you could feasibly cast the Malkavians as descendants of just about any clan – or any number of clans. A Nosferatu driven mad by his own use of Nightmare might become the first of the line. A Mekhet might become gradually demented over the centuries as she comes into contact with evil spirits or wicked magic, and that dementia might eventually taint her blood. A Gangrel could develop the bloodline when his brain is irreparably twisted by exposure to animal psyches or a century spent infused with the dirt. A Daeva, her blood filthy with centuries’ worth of diseases accumulated through shared needles and hedonistic sex, might pass on a soul-maddening illness to her progeny, thereby becoming the mother of all Malkavians.

The change in the Vitae that a bloodline represents doesn’t have to take familial lines to wholly unique places. A Malkavian bloodline could stem from several clans at once, leading Kindred of different blood to end up in the same sick family. This is a great hook for a coterie.

Most Kindred are still unaware of the so-called “Malkovian” bloodline and its peculiar, threatening gifts. The Lunatics are few — a state of affairs that those who are aware of them would like to perpetuate, by whatever means necessary.

Among worried Ventrue elders, the story of the Malkovians’ origins is now verified. It seems that a certain Dr. James Griffin Hartleigh of England’s Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum once became a bit too interested in one of his patients, an Anton Malkov. Malkov was rumored to be related to the czars of Russia, which was a chief reason, Hartleigh believed, why Malkov had been transported to Broadmoor under cover of night. (After all, the asylum hosted many such inmates whose whereabouts were a secret to all but their embarrassed and wealthy families.) Hartleigh never learned the details of the wretch’s crime, but the director had strictly enjoined him never to touch Malkov nor look him in the eye. Moreover, despite being a recluse who rarely left his dark cell, Malkov seemed to exert a strange fascination over the other madmen. Hartleigh found him an intriguing case, and their rambling interviews only fired his interest. Evidently Malkov felt the same way. Or, at least, it’s the only reason anyone can think of why he chose to Embrace the staid doctor.

Hartleigh stumbled home that same night and murdered his wife. Even now he cannot precisely recall what moved him to do so. True, he had always entertained certain doubts about her and the cook, but… well, never mind that. When he came to and found himself greedily sucking her blood, even such a font of Reason had to admit that something was much amiss. After hastily covering up his deed (which unfortunately required a further murder), Hartleigh stole back to the asylum to demand an explanation from Malkov. The lunatic drove him away with his mocking, echoing laughter. The doctor never dared return.

After some months of painstaking investigation, Hartleigh tracked down a solitary old gentleman whom he had seen mentioned in Malkov’s papers. This worthy was, alas, unforthcoming. Indeed, he seemed quite piqued to learn where the errant Malkov had secreted himself, and he waxed outright wroth as Hartleigh inquired whether he and Malkov were kin and whether there was any family history of insanity or blood-diseases of which he was aware. At last the Ventrue grew exasperated with this embarrassing mistake of a grandchilde and reached into Hartleigh’s mind. But in the intimacy of psychic contact, Hartleigh reflexively reached back — and found something he could twist. With startling ease, he sent the elder Kindred into a fugue state not at all unlike the one in which he himself had behaved so regrettably.

Hartleigh has since Embraced several childer — doctors to “consult” and lordlings to infiltrate the Ventrue to seek the answers he himself was denied by his scandalized clanmates. In time, some of those childer have gone astray from the fold, much as Malkov did, and begotten lineages of their own.

To date, the bloodline has made no serious attempt to claim the status theoretically due it as an innovation of the Blood; its particular creation seems profoundly unwelcome. The Ventrue resent the attention the Malkovians draw to their own mental instability, and since Ventrue and Malkovians are sometimes hard to tell apart, few Lords dare discount the horrifying possibility of a hidden contamination of the entire clan. Many vampires of other broods are also inclined to go mad with time, and they certainly don’t want any “help” in doing so. For those who aren’t so inclined, their minds are the last sanctuary they have, the one thing they can still rely on after their bodies have transformed so monstrously and their instincts have fallen prey to the Beast. And so most Lunatics wisely endeavor to pass their Requiems in such a way as to avoid rousing their fellow Kindred’s ire. Of course, even the most unassuming Malkovian occasionally find himself plagued by someone who seems to deserve a taste of the curse he’s tried so hard to bear nobly.

As for Malkov, Broadmoor records claim that a fellow inmate killed him in 1889.

Nickname: Among those rare non-Ventrue who know of them, the Malkovians are nicknamed Lunatics. When the Ventrue mention them at all (generally only to other Ventrue), they refer to them obliquely as “our most charming cousins,” or sometimes as “the escapees.”

Covenant: A fair majority of Malkovians pretend to be something else (generally Ventrue), so they usually favor whatever covenant allegiance makes the most sense for their assumed identities. As a result, many (if not most) belong to the Invictus. The fanatical bent of the Lancea Sanctum also appeals to some Malkovians, particularly those who suffer obsessions or visions. Some petition to join the Circle of the Crone or the Ordo Dracul, hoping for the relief that mystic wisdom might bring, but they are usually marginalized sometime during the initiation process. Rare indeed is the Malkovian whose madness strikes either covenant as an aid to enlightenment rather than a sad liability. After all, the tests and trial periods that both covenants set are explicitly designed to ferret out just such inner obstacles. As Malkovians grow weary of vainly searching for acceptance in the more established circles of Kindred society, it’s likely that more and more of them will show up in the ranks of the Carthians and the unaligned.

Appearance: Malkovians with enough self-command to recognize what they are and what afflicts them often go to some trouble to appear as anything but. Clothes might be fastidious and well coordinated — indeed, even suspiciously pristine. Among those who aspire to Ventrue status, styles appealing to elder tastes are favored. Other Lunatics are too… preoccupied with other matters to attend to such trivialities as vestment. Some can explain the etiquette of gloves and soliloquize on why stirrup pants are an abomination before God and man, but they haven’t the slightest idea what’s wrong with a morning coat that hasn’t been dry-cleaned or mended since 1932.

Haven: Discretion is the key consideration for a Malkovian haven. After all, most Kindred require privacy, but should a Malkovian start to have a bad evening, he really needs a safe retreat where neither easily shocked mortals nor judgmental Kindred can pry. Many Lunatics adapt family homes or vacation homes to this purpose. Such places are often left to slide into a sort of genteel decay, which helps the isolation along. Others rely on the comforting anonymity of cookie-cutter apartment complexes. More outré domiciles like old fallout shelters or church attics aren’t unheard of. In any case, once settled, a haven quickly comes to enshrine its resident’s quirks, manias, idols and fears. While one area within might be scrubbed clean of incriminating detritus and kept suitable for entertaining, the greater part of any Malkovian’s home is a veritable treasure trove and museum on the subject of him.

Background: Motivations for Malkovian Embraces vary as widely as those for any other clan or bloodline. Company in misery is a frequent one. Sometimes a Lunatic hopes that his new childe (be that childe a psychiatrist, priest, mother or simply someone who made the mistake of being kind to the vampire once) will be able to help him with his ailment, or at the very least will have the psychic strength to somehow overcome the madness and so purge the bloodline of its taint. Other sires, like their Ventrue forebears, pride themselves on selectivity, so erudite scholars and folk of “quality” are inducted.

At present, the very idea of a willing Ventrue seeking adoption into the ranks of the Malkovians is an absurdity to both bloods. Occasional rumors surface, however, of Malkovians who have made “converting” a certain Ventrue — in other words, fracturing her mind to the point where joining the Malkovians seems like a good idea, or the only idea — their pet project. So far, no such catechumens have shown up on the doorstep of Dr. Hartleigh. Much to his relief.

Character Creation: Mental and Social Attributes are usually primary. (After all, there’s no correlation whatsoever between being mad and being dumb, though ignorant Kindred frequently make the mistake. The line hosts many an adroit manipulator and charming psychopath.) Malkovians whose Physical Attributes predominate are uncommon but not unheard of. Malkovians generally favor Mental and Social Skills as well; Academics, Science, Expression, Empathy and Investigation are particularly useful. Malkovians often possess the same Social Merits as their Ventrue cousins. Most Mental Merits are appropriate (except for Common Sense). Also, be sure to take at least a second dot of Blood Potency, to allow the character to be at all eligible for a bloodline.

A Malkovian’s core derangement is key to her makeup. Mortals with mental illnesses are far more than the sum of their ailments, but a Malkovian’s curse is no mundane affliction. It runs in her very Blood. In all likelihood, it eventually consumes her soul. Accordingly, much care should be given to choosing and understanding it. Read up on mental illness; steep in literary traditions of madness, particularly the gothic tradition. Mental illness is a serious real-life issue that should be regarded respectfully, but don’t feel obliged to make your character a textbook DSM-IV diagnosis. It’s more important that derangement amplifies and enriches character, theme and story (rather than derails them).

Organization: The relative level of cooperation among Malkovians varies. There are now Malkovians who don’t consciously realize their true heritage. In some lineages, a series of desultory or irrational Embraces has produced neonates who feel only disregard for others of their bloodline — or even outright hatred for them. In others, however, sires and grandsires still maintain a more secretive version of the age-old bonds. They gladly provide mentoring, counseling and comfort in exchange for their descendants’ compliance in their schemes. Malkovians with sires who are too distracted to cultivate them often seek out an “aunt” or “cousin” to fulfill that role instead.

Occasionally, sophisticated collaborations to study and cure the bloodline’s maladies arise. Doctors, pharmacologists, psychologists, mystics and historians keeping each other informed of their discoveries through discreet correspondence. Of course, close contact among Malkovians has other hazards besides just the danger of interference from fearful Kindred. Madness can be contagious, and often it only takes one brilliant mind’s descent into unreason to drag the entire effort down.

Concepts: Absinthe-addled roué, Arsenic and Old Lacestyle death angel, conspiracy theorist, eccentric scholar, failed suicide, health professional, idiot savant, mumbling beggar, religious visionary, scion of decaying noble line, tortured artist

Many Kindred take their freedom to roam the night for granted. They prowl the Rack, vie for prestige and power in Elysium and return to their havens to feed or pass the day, never realizing that there are others who are not so free as they.

Scattered here and there, on the edges of cities, in withering neighborhoods of failing wealth or in crumbling communities with vanishing populations, there are houses — old houses — that still exude the odors of wealth, nobility and prestige. Occupied and yet not occupied, haunted and yet not haunted, these grand old mansions of brick and oak are lairs for the nigh-sessile Kindred called the Malocusians.

Malocusians are bound to their havens by bonds of blood. Outside of their havens, they are weaker than many Kindred, but, within the bounds of their territory, the Spiders are truly the masters of their domain, and woe unto any Kindred who picks a fight with the Spiders on their own ground.

Covenant: Invictus (and, rarely, Ordo Dracul) Appearance: On the whole, Malocusians represent the quintessential landed gentry. They manifest all the traits common to the erudite and wealthy.

Their sartorial tastes are profoundly conservative, almost to an extreme: Malocusians are known to wear clothes 50, 60 or even 70 years out of fashion. Depending on the dates involved, this might make them seem “retro” or simply crazy.

Haven: Malocusians build their entire unlives around their havens. Their sires only release them from their oversight after the childer acquire suitable havens of their own and, to the Malocusians, “suitable” may as well be a synonym for “palatial.” Few Malocusian sires would ever release childer who had not found themselves havens with several rooms, a den, a comprehensive library, several salons and, possibly, a ballroom.

Contrary to the assumptions of those Kindred who know the ways of Spiders, however, Malocusians have a much greater interest (and ability) in adapting to modern or decrepit spaces than they may imply. Some Spiders nest in palaces that seem, from the outside, to be bombed-out firetraps or holes in the ground. Outright grandeur is not the only tool a Malocusian has for luring flies.

Background: Wealth, isolation and intellect are the key features of those who become Malocusians. The son of the wealthy family who didn’t have the advantage of primogeniture, the reclusive widow who inherited her husband’s fortune and estate after his tragic accident, the eccentric scholar whose work proved unexpectedly lucrative — any of these would be ideal candidates for the Malocusian line. (The bloodline does show a slight preference for families from “old money” over the nouveau riche, however.) Political families, eccentric artists and scions of debauched dynasties comprise the core of the Malocusian line. Ideal candidates for this kind of Requiem are, for obvious reasons, rare, but so are members of this bloodline in general. Some elders have been known to adopt optimistically if they find souls who don’t have the estates or the money but who seem to have many of the other traits individual Spiders considers ideal.

Character Creation: Brilliant (if somewhat crazed) minds are a hallmark of the Malocusian bloodline. Mental Attributes (and Skills) are primary. Some of these Kindred pass decades, even centuries, without leaving their havens. As a result, their Physical Attributes are almost always tertiary; it takes a certain kind of mind (and physique) to acclimate to that existence.

Many Malocusians are at least moderately wealthy at the time of their Embrace. Most should have at least three dots worth of Resources, and preferably four or more. Likewise, many Spiders already have homes worthy of five dots of Haven Size when they are Embraced.

Organization: Despite rarely leaving their havens, Malocusians maintain tight networks among themselves. Once upon a time, they managed this through written or oral correspondence delivered by animal messengers, although in the modern era they use telephones and the Internet. They’re quite aware of the danger this network of theirs presents to the Masquerade, but they’re fastidiously attentive to discretion, and a few of them are adept at cryptography. Still, tonight’s most sensitive messages are delivered by animals, as the communications were centuries ago.

Due to the time Malocusians spend scouring newspapers and the media for signs of the outside world, the first news of big developments in the mortal lives of other cities often comes through a Malocusian contact, and many Princes (and rumormongers) maintain connections with the Spiders for that reason alone. Outside of that, Malocusians are often overlooked members of the Kindred population, a fact they’re happy to use to their advantage.

Concepts: Noble-in-exile, housebound scholar, keeper of the Prince’s library, creepy shut-in, scheming spider at the center of an influence web, crippled mob boss

The path to Nibbana, or Enlightenment, is paved with far more steps than meditation and denial. It is more complicated than putting on a robe and feeding less often than Kindred would like. It is largely about making merit, making right choices and leading the type of unlife a vampire’s Dharma demands. No lineage of Kindred understands this better than the Mayarap, descendants of the Naga King forever bound to pay for his deeds, and indeed, the deeds of all Kindred.

History and Culture: After Asira, the Naga King, took up robes and became the Naga Monk, he fell into a deep meditative state, only stirring to dictate thoughts from his internal study to his closest and most devoted childer. While much of Asira’s Dharma was already determined by the time he converted, his childe Suna was not so restricted and was able to hone his blood to what he considered highly spiritual ends.

Suna spent 20 years walking the woods of Thailand (then still called Sukhothai), contemplating his sire’s words and the secondhand lessons he’d heard of the Mae Ji. He slept in the soil, always under fig trees, and battled with his Beast and many demons in the woods. At the end of his danger- ous walking meditation, he saw a change in himself he could not fathom. Gone were the ravages of his demonic appearance and the mortals’ wise fear of him. Gone too was the bubbling rage that had underlain most of his unlife. Once changed, he returned to the Wat Ning to share all that he had learned and all the growth that he had accomplished.

Asira, his sire, nodded almost sadly as he listened to what Suna had to say. It was then that Suna noticed that his sire’s face was still the terrible visage it had been in his old unlife. He saw that for all his time in contemplation and skillful thought, Asira’s Beast still sat close and nearly in control of his every action.

Horrified, Suna asked his sire, “I do not understand. I practiced the Eightfold Path that you have taught me. I have followed all the precepts as you perform them and I would not know meditation except that you showed it to me. Why is it then that I have changed so much and you remain the same?”

Asira thought on this at his childe’s side for three nights before he spoke with a forked tongue. He answered: “I have a great debt to the world in my karma, my childe. The crimes I have committed are many and perverse over hundreds of years. It might be that one lifetime of following the right path and doing the right thing is not enough. Perhaps a thousand lifetimes would be required for me to reach Nibbana. Perhaps a thousand family members making merit in my name would be enough for me to reach Nibbana. I do not worry, though. This, too, is impermanent.”

Suna marveled to see his sire content with his fate of suffering, and wondered at the paradox of peace found in affliction. He meditated on this paradox for a month before deciding that it was a koan, a problem without a logical answer. Knowing this, he meditated further, and his intuition finally answered the puzzle.

In order for the Naga Monk to continue on in his path he needed a great many others seeking Nibbana to share their merit with him. Sharing merit makes merit, and so by suffering, Asira was able to offer many others the chance to make more merit, which was itself a merit-making act.

With this flash of insight, Suna understood his Dharma and how it tied into Asira’s. From that night on, Suna spent his unlife turning over rocks and seeking in gutters the lowest of the low — murderers, pimps and drug addicts, crooked politicians and actresses so vain that they believed their own lies. Suna, his childer, and his childer’s childer sought the most despicable among the mortal world, the people so very lost in illusion and ego that they did not even realize they were suffering. People whose crimes were so great a hundred lives serving under the Mae Ji herself would not grant them peace.

Once found, Suna and his growing family would strip them of mortal ties, Embrace them, and set them back on the path to right thought and right deed.

Sometimes new Mayarap want neither enlightenment nor all the responsibility that comes with it. Sometimes, newcomers simply aren’t cut out for the monastic unlife among the Sakadagami. Sometimes they resist, and sometimes their souls are just too dark to be able to change. At its most mild, resistance is met with the patience of the Bodhisattva. Time and kindness (a merit in itself) go a long way with most of the saddest dredges. In more extreme cases, older and more experienced members of the line are called in to inflict real and legitimate cruelty on the neonate, with acceptance of her role as the only out. (The Mayarap do not consider this a violation of free will because the neonate is still making a choice. The most important choices tend to be the hardest ones.)

At its worst, usually only a problem among converts to the line or late bloomers, those who are far too close to their final frenzy or utterly unrepentant monsters, the only solution is a tragic one. Not often, but when it is right to do so, the line will gather at a private temple deep in the woods, a Wat with no name built on the site where Suna first saw the change in himself. Once there, they take the irredeemable to a pit seven meters by seven meters by seven meters. He is asked once more if he would like to enter the stream and one night reach Nibbana. If he once more refuses or proves false, he is dropped down into the pit, shackled and unable to escape. The pit is covered with a grating of iron locked to the floor. The Mayarap say prayers and blessings to the unfortunate and leave him to his fate.

The roof of the temple there has a hole in it just large enough to fill the pit with sunlight not long after dawn. One elder, far along in his understanding of the Treasure of Anicca, stays behind in the room for as long as he can in order to observe the unfortunate’s Final Death. It is thought that at worst, the creature will reincarnate in Hell where he can fulfill his Dharma in another way.

In addition to the normal duties of all ordained, the Mayarap are expected to make as much merit as possible so that it may all be shared with their greatest ancestor, the Naga Monk. Great acts of charity, teaching Dharma, and providing blood for other Ordained is expected to such extremes that some find it impossible to satisfy the needs of others and maintain themselves and their own gracelessness, they are largely attributed with a level of supernatural influence they simply do not have. In more rural temples, they are given saint-like status, and some few do take advantage and cultivate that reputation.

To those heathens and nonbelievers, the Acolytes, the Mayarap are often considered “the problem” as it was their ancestor’s dogma that drove them underground. Laity who have had their less-than-enlightened endeavors interrupted or stopped by these do-gooders tend to seek first to discredit them, then to destroy them. The pressures to the Mayarap are endless.

Concepts: Politically driven priest, sadistic teacher, hippy guru, former drug addict, farmer-cum-defender, ‘reformed’ Acolyte, doomed perfectionist, serial killer, ‘fair-minded’ blood merchant, guilt-ridden son

Melissid Animalism
Unlike most other Kindred, the Melissidae are adept at affecting insects, specifically swarming insects, such as ants, termites, wasps, hornets and bees — the Melissadae gain a +2 bonus to affect insects instead of the standard –3 penalty as described on pp. 116–118 of Vampire: The Requiem. The Melissadae are, conversely, less able to affect other kinds of animals, suffering a –1 penalty for uses of Animalism that affect creatures other than insects. Swarms of insects controlled by a Melissid count as a single creature for the purposes of Animalism.

Although the standard powers gained with Animalism •, •• and •••• normally require eye contact with the animal subject, it’s impossible to make eye contact with a swarm of several hundred insects. Insects don’t really use sight the way that higher animals do.

There’s no standard way in which Melissidae make contact with insects, but all Melissadae manage. All Melissidae who have developed Animalism • have the ability to call a single insect from a swarm or hive to them, and it’s through this single insect that the Melissid will communicate with the swarm of which the insect is a part.

How this communication happens differs from Queen Bee to Queen Bee. One Melissid might simply allow the insect to settle on her body, on her face or hand, communicating with the creature through her skin. Another Melissid might open her mouth and allow the insect to fly or crawl inside, then keep it alive in her closed mouth for the duration of the power’s use. Another Melissid might allow an insect to settle on her eyeball, holding the insect in her eyelashes until such time as the power’s duration ends, at which time she frees the insect or kills it.

Unlike other Ventrue, the Melissidae don’t need to maintain concentration when using Subsume the Lesser Spirit (Animalism ••••). When connected with an insect swarm, the Queen Bee becomes one of the swarm, and the swarm becomes an extension of her own body.

Ventrue who join the bloodline find their Blood warped to produce the Melissidae’s effects in this manner.

A handful of Kindred still exist tonight who, during the late 19th century, participated in the destruction of the Melissidae.

Those who witnessed the pogrom still talk about the Melissidae, even tonight, and the stories grow in the telling. The Melissidae, they say, could vomit swarms of wasps. They say that Melissidae had a sting, imparted with no more than a brush of the lips, which could send you into an ecstasy of pain. They swear that the Melissidae behaved like the “Queen Bees” of ersatz hives that were populated by mortals who had been twisted into near-mindless drones and forced to submit to a hive-mind by a unique power of the blood. The one thing these elders agree on, however, is that the Queen Bees’ blood was sweeter than anything any of them will ever taste again. It tasted like honey.

Yes, they still talk about their fallen foes. However, when asked exactly why the Melissidae were destroyed, these elders become somewhat vague. The Queen Bees must have done something. After all, Kindred from five clans and many covenants and nations each, entirely independently, pursued the Queen Bees’ destruction. Charges or no charges, rival Kindred enthusiastically pursued the Melissidae, who soon vanished, gone but not forgotten. Now they’re a cautionary tale for the Kindred, a fount of wild tales about insects and drone-people and blood like honey.

The enthusiasm of the Queen Bees’ pursuers proved inadequate, however. The Melissidae were not com- pletely destroyed. The Melissidae still rule their hives, even tonight.

They keep much quieter than they used to, these nights. They have developed ways to hide their hives and ways to mask their mindless servants.

In the back of every Melissid’s undead brain, she feels an itch, a chittering, rustling presence: the beginning of a hive-mind. Hungry, it needs to grow, it needs to control, it needs to surround itself with drones and workers, so that it can find comfort. To be alone in her own head fi lls a Melissid with a sense of panic.

This panic drives the Melissadae. The Queen Bees don’t just want control, they need it. They have no choice. A few Melissidae, repelled by a realization of what they’ve become, try to escape. For those who have their powers, though, it’s too easy to use them, to give in to temptation. A little push there, a twist here. One thing leads to another, and soon the Kindred finds herself surrounded by slaves. She’s become the slave master.

The Melissidae force their herds to be insects and believe, in the creation of a perfect community formed in imitation of nature, that they are acting in the interest of the common good. At some point, most Melissidae develop the power to erase individual thought from a mortal’s brain, forcing him to share consciousness with the Queen Bee’s other mortal thralls. The Melissidae believe that mortals must exist like this. The mortals, as drones, occupy their proper place while the vampire occupies hers, and this is harmony. If the kine need to learn to accept this — and they generally do — then the Melissid has a duty to ensure that they take up their rightful place. It’s all for their own good.

People need to love each other. The Queen Bees make them love each other. Workers and drones need authority. The hive is right, the hive is good, the hive is love, the hive is everything.

It’s all a lie, of course. No common good survives in the hive. Drones and workers exist to provide sustenance for the queen. The Melissidae do not imitate nature so much as they mock it, the all-giving, life-loving mother of the hive replaced by a dead, hungry monstrosity.

The Melissid social experiment is an exercise in sociopathy. It’s not about social concern or about the common good or about love. It’s about control. The irony is that the need for control imprisons the Melissidae. It controls them.

Covenant:
The Melissidae tend not to agree wholeheartedly with any of the five major covenants, but this doesn’t stop them sometimes finding some common cause. Due to their heritage, however, they usually find it best to keep their bloodline hidden. It’s useful for a Melissid to have allies, and quite a reasonable number of Queen Bees have made at least a show of joining one of the covenants, and not always because they respect the covenants’ philosophies. For some, there’s safety in numbers, and that’s all.

If a Melissid in modern nights wishes to claim allegiance with a covenant, she more likely than not chooses the Invictus, for the simple reason that its strict, stratified social order has at least some commonality with the Melissid vision. Melissidae may maintain hives that look like religious communities, and these sometimes find sympathy with the Lancea Sanctum. A few Queen Bees — those whose hives resemble communes or socialist cells, for example — might take cover inside the Carthian Movement.

Very few Melissidae have joined either the Circle of the Crone or the Ordo Dracul so far. Both covenants have strict ideas about what a vampire should be, and it’s very difficult indeed for a Melissid to even pretend to have the commitment to that sort of vampiric vision. Although elders in each of the five major covenants had some part in the bloodline’s attempted destruction, the Melissidae who know about the purge don’t seem to hold a grudge. On the other hand, many Melissidae don’t know about the purge, either because their sires never thought it important enough to tell them, or because some of the Queen Bees found out about only it in the minutes before they were destroyed or forced into torpor.

Appearance:
Whatever or whoever Queen Bees may have been in life, in undeath they all have this in common: they are always meticulous. Their obsession with control manifests itself in an attention to clean, fastidious lines. However they may dress, whether in hippy chic, socialist minimalism or the attire of a Republican housewife, it’s always perfect and, as Humanity diminishes, this perfection itself becomes excessive, freakish, somehow wrong. A Melissid may have too-perfectly coiffed hair, so styled and sprayed that it’s immobile, or cut very short. Pants and skirts bear razor-sharp creases, blouses are whiter than white, scarves and ties are knotted just so, shoes are clean, jewelry is tasteful and minimalist. Makeup is flawless, whatever style the Queen Bee affects. After a while, they all look like mannequins.

The sense of unease created by this attention to sartorial detail is compounded by the way the Melissidae move. The more their Humanity erodes, the more they move like insects, their absolute stillness punctuated with brief, twitchy movements — the quick, repeated click of a tongue against the teeth, the crack of knuckles as the hands clench, the cocking of the head to one side, a sudden flutter of eyelashes. Insects surround them. Few Kindred feel at ease to see a single bee or a wasp crawl out of an immobile Melissid’s nostril or mouth and fly away.

Haven:
The havens of the Melissidae also tend to house their mortal drones and, therefore, tend to be quite sizable, places with enough space to accommodate a dozen or more people comfortably. For example, some Melissid have created hives in derelict stately homes, factory units and call centers. The Melissidae are too few to make many generalizations, but, whatever their hives are like, whether cult compounds, remote villages, monasteries or New Age communes, the havens are always clean. Everything occupies its proper place, even in those places where things might not be expected to be. It can seem quite peculiar to see a junkie commune’s drug paraphernalia neatly arranged or the accoutrements of an S&M dungeon placed with the precision of military kit laid out for inspection.

Despite the cleanliness and order of these places, inevitably, insects congregate in huge numbers. A wasps’ nest hangs under the stairs of a perfect suburban home, but the inhabitants do nothing. A row of beehives sits in the back lawn of the monastery. Ants’ mounds surround the sorority house. The bugs are always there. They don’t bother the inhabitants, who allow the wasps to settle on hands and the ants to crawl up legs without flinching.

Background:
The Melissidae are almost all female. It’s not that the bloodlines observe prohibitions against Embracing men. However, the Melissidae are naturally drawn to Embrace women, simply because it feels right to them for a Queen to be female. They are the mothers of their hives. Other than gender, no other single criterion affects how the Melissidae select childer. The Queen Bees Embrace whosoever they choose, and choose, more often than not, based on nothing more than personal whim.

Melissid childer almost always join the bloodline.Some are forced to do so. Some, by the time their Blood matures, have themselves been so tightly bound (via Vinculums or with conditional uses of Dominate) that they could hardly choose otherwise. Some don’t realize that they have an alternative. Most, however, simply metamorphose into full members of the bloodline one night without even realizing.

Queen Bees have likened becoming a full-fledged Me- lissid to emerging from a chrysalis, like changing from a soft, empty maggot into something colder and hungrier. A new Melissid feels her Blood turn to honey; she feels a clawing need, the second consciousness hatching in her mind. At that point, she’s a Queen Bee forever.

It’s hard to imagine an “ordinary” Ventrue electing to join the bloodline, and certainly no tales have so far surfaced regarding a vampire approaching the Melissidae with the intention of joining them. Having said that, should a situation arise in which a vampire does ask to join the Melissidae, it’s likely that she’d be accepted immediately, no questions asked. A Melissid Avus would assume that the transformation of the Catechumen’s blood would take care of any questions of attitude. In most cases, she’d be right.

Character Creation:
Melissidae normally prioritize Mental and Social Attributes and Social Skills. Physical Attributes and Skills often fall low among priorities.

Many Queen Bees have at least one dot in Animal Ken, and several, at some point in their unlife, have learned Beekeeping as a Specialty.

Mental Merits are extremely common. Melissidae who still dwell in their sire’s hives usually have at least one dot in Herd and Haven. Those Melissidae whose relationships with their sires are good often have a dot in Mentor. Retainers are rare for new Melissidae, as any servants they have probably serve their sires directly.

Organization:
Tonight, maybe a dozen or so Queen Bees remain active, mostly in the United Kingdom. The handful of Melissidae in the United States seem to have kept to the East Coast, though rumors of mortals behaving like insects and vampires vomiting wasps have sprung up among the Kindred as far afield as rural Colorado and the San Fernando Valley of California.

Melissidae society, such as it is, boils down to a single principle. A lone Melissid builds a hive of mortal drones, one at a time. She decides at some point to take a childe. The Melissid neonate becomes a privileged member of her sire’s hive, and is allowed free rein, though she is expected to act as her sire’s agent in the world outside. When the childe has become experienced enough to create her own drones, she is cut loose and ordered to build her own hive elsewhere.

Melissid neonates are not usually obliged to remain with their sires. While most Melissidae, overcome by the mounting panic that accompanies separation from the hive, choose to stay with their queen, some, out of disgust at what they have become or out of hatred for their sire, choose to strike out on their own. If other Kindred find themselves having any contact at all with a Melissid, she’s probably a Queen Bee without a hive of her own — whether she has a home with her sire or is truly alone — either because her sire is no more, or because she has found the will to strike out or because she cannot bear to be reminded of her own potential.

Concepts: Abbess, cult leader, dominatrix, faithful wife of a philandering politician, female executive trapped by the glass ceiling, lady of the manor, most popular girl in school, New Age hippie guru, socialist demagogue, sorority leader, the perfect housewife, unrequited lover

Devotions
The Melissidae have developed a number of Devotions unique to their bloodline. Although based on common Disciplines, none of these powers can be learned by outsiders. Most of these Devotions depend on the unusual nature of the Queen Bees’ Blood, and attempts by vampires outside the bloodline to learn these powers have failed.

The ubiquity of these powers among the Melissidae has made the Devotions easy to learn within the family. As a result, most Melissid Devotions cost fewer experience points than they otherwise would. In fact, all of these Devotions (with the exception of Body Colony and Mock Mind) don’t even need to be taught. They just come to a Melissid whose powers are ripe (and who has spent the requisite number of experience points), a gift of the Blood. Melissidae often find that they possess these powers for the first time without even realizing. The idea comes unbidden, as the hive-mind suddenly manifesting a new extension of its will.

In game terms, this means that once the experience points have been spent, the Melissid character can take the power. However, its first use should be roleplayed, as the Melissid realizes, not always with delight, what she can do. The Melissid’s player obviously spends the experience points, but the use of the power for the first time may elicit shock, horror or overconfidence in the character.

Blood is more than the life. Blood is heredity; blood is memory; blood is instinct. The Mnemosyne don’t just know this for a fact: they are the fact. Everything they do is tied to the concept of memory. The Kindred are terrified of losing their past. They sleep and fall prey to terrible dreams; they wake and begin to wonder which was the dream and which was reality. History plays tricks on the Kindred. You sleep for a century, and when you wake up, you barely know who you are. Dreams of making love and dreams of drinking the blood of kings; dreams of flying, dreams of devils with the faces of owls, dreams of people who you never met and people who have yet to be born. You wake up; the world has changed. You doubt everything you were before. Each slumber makes you a little less human, a little more dead.

And yet, the Mnemosyne don’t seem to have that problem. There aren’t so many of them. Their power is simple, potent: they feed on memories.

A Mnemosyne uncovers the truth, shares it, buries it and keeps it secret. The dead value the Mnemosyne for that reason; there are none more efficient at manipulating history. In the hands of a Mnemosyne, history doesn’t stand a chance.

History and Culture: Ironically, no one remembers where the Mnemosyne came from. They were there in Rome – a second-century CE testament belonging to the Cult of Augurs, a branch of the Roman Camarilla who dealt with prophecy and magic, grants privileges to the childer of a vampire belonging to the “Mnemosynidae” along one stretch of the Tiber. So, clearly, they must have existed long enough to have become a family before that. Documents since that time are rare. Old Kindred say they were always there, or always talked about if they weren’t present. But they weren’t ever the movers and shakers. They
just existed in the dark, hiding, emerging sometimes to save an elder’s sanity, or drive another elder insane.

That’s the most anyone can work out. The Mnemosyne don’t keep their own histories; they’re too busy playing with the pasts of others. Broods of them exist, small families who settle in areas and absorb the local culture. Some vampires, who make studies of such things, identify them with the long-dead Moirai. But the Moirai are gone now (aren’t they?), while the Mnemosyne are clearly here.

The memories they absorb, exchange and alter do strange things to a vampire’s mind. The older Mnemosyne don’t have names anymore. They’re detached, prone to amnesia and madness. Here’s a Keeper who is nearly blank, a cipher without a true identity of his own, having washed away the memories of so many others that his own have become lost. Here’s another who is so full of other people’s memories that she has become taken within the whirl of experiences and personalities. Ireneo Funes, Prince of Buenos Aires, is rumored to be such a Mnemosyne, a creature who long ago lost his individuality, who eats the mind and memory of every victim he feeds upon, gaining a new splinter of personality each day.

A pair of Mnemosyne who were twins in life swap memories (and hence personalities) so often that they become interchangeable. They talk sometimes in unison. They finish one another’s sentences. They answer to either name. They can’t even tell themselves apart anymore.

While more Mnemosyne are unaligned than belong to Covenants, virtually all of them have duties within the hierarchies of their home towns, and those who don’t have some sort of fixed post sell their services to the highest bidder.

Niall works as a Hound for his Prince. Unlike more direct Hounds, he’s something of a detective, a methodical worker. He sifts evidence, reads minds. He finds truths. An older Mnemosyne works as more of a psychic surgeon, a detective who heals the memory of his aged prince each time he falls into torpor. A Mnemosyne in one of the larger cities serves as a cleaner of sorts, one who wipes breaches of the Masquerade from the minds of mortals and incriminating information from the memories of ghouls and Kindred.

Reputation: The Mnemosyne are, perhaps inevitably, better known by reputation than by acquaintance. The stories are many and fearsome, and Mnemosyne often find that other vampires have made up their minds before ever meeting them.

Covenants and Clans are ambivalent about the Mnemosyne. They fear them. If they can really steal memories, they say, they can take their own. But at the same time, they find lost memories. They share them. Each of the five great Covenants respects that. The Invictus and Sanctified alike value those who can verify chronicles and genealogies. The Acolytes and Ordo Dracul may take very different approaches to the question, but both Covenants react with curiosity to a vampire who can drink memories through blood. And while the Carthians may care less for history, the conspirators who maneuver their Covenant towards what they see as inevitable control can find uses for a drinker of memories and a thief of minds.

A Mnemosyne who appears in a city, then, may well be showered with offers of patronage and employment from every quarter; but he should beware, for taking sides makes enemies, and refusing to take sides makes more. Often, the choice is between which enemies to make.

For as long as the Kindred have been aware of the existence of the Morbus, bloodline historians and vampiric genealogists have been frustrated by them. Owing largely to the rarity of extensive records cataloguing Mekhet lineage over the centuries, no one can pin down exactly who the founder of this bloodline might have been or where the first niche was in which the Morbus began to thrive. The idea of constructing a truly inclusive history of the Kindred (especially as regards the Mekhet clan) from which one might solve this mystery conclusively is a pipe dream at best, but some aspire to it nonetheless. Those Morbus who choose to concern themselves with the subject consider this ongoing failure a relief and a legitimatization of their entire existence. They see themselves as simply Mekhet who are afflicted or cursed with a singular variety of rarefied tastes.

The particular preference to which the Morbus are all suspect is that they must feed on the blood of the ailing and diseased in order to sustain their vital undead state. In fact, the name Morbus comes from a Latin root meaning “diseased,” which was ascribed to afflicted Mekhet by non-afflicted ones during the reign of Justinian in the sixth century AD. According to records from that period unearthed centuries later by Kindred archaeologists, the Morbus were suspected of either spreading or helping to spread a virulent plague across the Mediterranean in one domain after another. Less solvent data has linked named Morbus from Roman records with Mekhet who were active in Greece and Egypt as far back as 430 BC, a year in which plague was said to have struck Athens. The connection this data implies is tenuous as best, and possibly wholly fabricated as propaganda against the Morbus. Nonetheless, it might have been possible for the Kindred to accept the Morbus condition as just a peculiar feeding preference if it were not for records recovered from Constantinople dating back to AD 1334. At that time, one of the most widespread plagues in history swept across Europe and Asia, aided by large numbers of soldiers and captives returning from the Crusades. The records in question describe the “righteous wrath” of a Mekhet pilgrim who traveled in secret with the Christian army. He returned to his domain once the campaign was ended to find his Kindred subjects in rebellion and his mortal herds mired hopelessly in sin. To punish them, records say, he blighted his people with a wasting sickness from within him that killed everyone for miles within a matter of days. This incident blended in with concurrent reports of blight and plague that swept the continent at the time, but Kindred historians pin it down as the first known instance of the use of the Morbus Discipline known as Cachexy.

When captured and put to the question by Kindred Inquisitors for the act, this Kindred denied being the founder of a bloodline at all. He claimed that he had learned his unusual abilities from his sire, who had long since succumbed to the sleep of ages. When he awoke much later, the Kindred’s sire also denied developing the Discipline or founding a bloodline, but his memories of his own sire or brood brethren were too hazy to offer any more definitive leads. These records are the closest any historian has come to finding the bloodline’s true founder or tracing its evolution. Tonight, most Morbus are not as concerned with their origins as they are with survival. Once they discover their condition and the unique power that derives from it (or they have both explained to them by an older Morbus), they must decide whether to hide it or admit what they are and try to redefine their niche. Their ability to do either varies by domain, but if nothing else, periodic outbreaks of severe infectious diseases throughout history and all over the world provide sufficient vessels on which to thrive. All they have to do is keep informed and be willing to risk travel to areas in which untreated strains of infectious disease defy the cutting edge of First-World medicine.

Covenant: Many Carriers find it difficult to make a respected name or to carve out a fruitful place among the undead of the Invictus or the Lancea Sanctum once their affliction becomes known. Kindred consider them threats to the Traditions and claim that hundred-fold damnation awaits any Morbus who breaks the Third Tradition. Princes of the Invictus simply don’t want Carriers polluting their domains and weakening the mortal pillars of their power structure with careless feeding. Some Morbus take perverse pleasure in testing the limits of Carthian egalitarian tolerance, but most would just as soon cultivate as much power and influence as they can and tell the Carthians to go to hell. Repentant or remorseful Carriers turn to members of the Circle of the Crone in hopes of finding some way to undo the curse they’ve wrought upon themselves, but no member of the bloodline or the covenant in general has yet uncovered any hope that such is possible. Others join the Ordo Dracul in an attempt to progress beyond the weakness that their blood inflicts, but no Morbus has yet achieved the true transcendence that the Order espouses. The rest of the bloodline hide out among the Kindred of the Invictus or the Lancea Sanctum — guarding the secret of their heritage for all their unlives are worth — or go it alone among the unaligned.

Appearance: Most Morbus adopt attire based on how they intend to interact with Kindred society vis-à-vis their condition. Those who try to pass as “normal” often play to the stereotypes that they feel are expected of their clan in their chosen covenant and domain. In fact, they often overdo said stereotypes and give themselves away. Those whose nature is fairly common knowledge try to keep a low profile in “urban camouflage” (i.e., plain, baggy, off-brand clothes in neutral colors), so as to not stand out and risk being social lightning rods. Those who are outright cavalier about their bloodline — and have found acceptance in a Prince’s domain — often play to Mekhet stereotypes. They do so out of a desire to show how successful they can be despite their condition.

Haven: Whether they’re covert or open about what they are, Morbus make just as much of an effort to make their havens a reflection of their personal purposes as other Mekhet do. The only way in which they choose havens that differs is they look for ones among or offering easy access to diseased mortal vessels.

Background: It is a more frequent for a Mekhet to Embrace a childe who then realizes he is a Morbus than it is for a confirmed Morbus to Embrace a childe. Most Morbus childer therefore have the same backgrounds as non-afflicted Mekhet. When the Morbus do Embrace deliberately, they tend to choose doctors (whom they vainly hope can help cure them), dying vessels to whom they’ve formed obsessive attachments, or people with influence over policymakers.

Character Creation: The priority assigned to Physical Attributes and Skills is largely a matter of personal taste, as these vampires do not necessarily need sterner constitutions to balance the diseases they carry. The choice between Mental and Social Attributes and Skills should depend on how open a character is to revealing his lineage and how he intends to adapt to his condition. It is also wise to buy up or sell off Humanity dots based on how cavalier uses of Cachexy will be, or how humane a function he considers feeding from the sick and infirm to be. Also, don’t forget to buy a second dot of Blood Potency since a character can’t officially join the bloodline before then.

Organization: The tradition among certain elders and Kindred genealogists of tracking descent and lineage both informs and works against the Morbus. A few members trace lineage and determine intra-bloodline status based on the relative fame or notoriety of sires and grandsires. Some consider the achievements of only their confirmed Morbus forebears worthy of consideration, while others uphold any Mekhet ancestors’ accomplishments. Morbus who manage to keep their membership in this bloodline a secret, and earn status and respect from other Mekhet, earn the same again (and more) from their Morbus peers for their cleverness.

Concepts: Angel of mercy, cult leader, demon of retribution, doctor, hospice manager, medical researcher, New-Age holistic healer, plague dog, retirement-home orderly, seemingly philanthropic political activist

The Moroi bloodline is one of the great mysteries of the Ordo Dracul. The legends surrounding the bloodline’s formation are strange enough, but the (admittedly murky) history of its association with the covenant states that Dracula himself recruited them, binding the Moroi forever to the Dragons. The bloodline is rare, especially outside of Europe, and most Dragons who have heard of the Moroi know them as fearsome combatants. “When the Moroi arrive, seek shelters of stone,” goes a maxim common among Kogaions. But perhaps the strangest and most persistent rumor about the Moroi is that the bloodline is descended from not one, but two clans. Both Nosferatu and Gangrel, supposedly, can become Moroi.

In Romanian legend, a moroi is a vampire rising from the body of a stillborn infant. Elders of the Moroi do not recall if the Romanians took their name to describe their legend, or if the bloodline took the name of the legend as its own. A story handed down from sire to childe within the bloodline, however, draws a connection.

The legend states that a female vampire, mad with grief for the life she had lost, Embraced her infant child. When she beheld the abomination that she had created, she left it in a graveyard and fled west, to meet her end as the sun rose over the mountains. The child, by sheer luck, rolled into an open grave and was there shielded from the same fate. That night, two Kindred, one Gangrel and one Nosferatu, heard the child’s cries. They retrieved the infant monster from the grave, and discussed what to do with it. Letting it live would be cruel, they agreed, since even if it could develop the mind of an adult, its body would never age. They decided to destroy it, but instead of simply burning it or leaving it for the sun, they instead chose to commit diablerie on the infant.

Two Kindred committing diablerie on the same target is impossible, of course, but the legend states that this is precisely what these two vampires did. The infant, condemned to undeath with a soul unblemished by sin, gave power to both of them. For that monumental act of cruelty, however, God cursed them both at that moment. They would henceforth be hunters and killers and nothing more, set apart by mortals by deformity and driven to kill by the howls of the Beast. Those Kindred became the first Moroi, neither Nosferatu nor Gangrel but a hideous amalgam of both.

This story, of course, is unverifiable and modern Dragons consider it little more than superstition. They do agree on one point, however: the Moroi are monsters and killers first and last.

Dracula and the Moroi
A story that the Ordo Dracul is willing to give more credence is that of how the Moroi bloodline came to join the covenant. Supposedly, in the years following his transition to undeath, Vlad Tepes wandered the world, looking for information about his kind. He came into conflict with vampires of several covenants and (presumably) all clans, but early in these wanderings, he chanced through a village surrounded by a dense forest. He saw that the villagers lived in fear, and were much more superstitious than even normal Wallachian peasants. In particular, there were no cats anywhere in the village, and the villagers killed the animals if they found them. Domesticated animals were blinded when they reached maturity, and the villagers crossed themselves whenever birds flew overhead. Dracula discovered that they believed that all animals were servants of the moroi, and only by blinding their livestock could they prevent these monsters from possessing the animals or turning them against their masters.

At the same time, the villagers only cut wood during the day, and refused to leave their homes after dark. They would not open their doors to anyone once the sun had set, for fear of a moroi in the form of a trusted neighbor or friend. Intrigued, Dracula ventured into the woods to find these “moroi.” He was not long in looking.

The vampires he found were ugly and bestial, and yet possessed qualities Dracula valued — brutality, hunger and even a strange sort of loyalty. He shared his knowledge with these Kindred, and they spoke for weeks on topics of rulership, superstition, hunting mortals and the society of vampires (of which the Moroi knew little more than Dracula). Finally, Dracula took his leave, but before he did, those few Moroi promised that if Dracula needed soldiers, they would come.

This story is apocryphal at best, and does not address the fact that Dracula never mentions the Moroi once in the Rites of the Dragon. Indeed, the Moroi were not seen or heard from again (as a bloodline of Kindred, at least — their legend persisted among mortals) before Dracula vanished, and his covenant took organized form.

When they reappeared, however, their loyalty was unquestionable.

The Spider Killings
From the time of Dracula’s disappearance in the 16th century to the first decades of the 19th, the Ordo Dracul might have foundered and vanished at any time. The reasons for this instability are discussed in Chapter One. The fact that the Ordo Dracul survived at all, much less gained the power that it did in the 1800s and remains tonight, amazes many Kindred historians.

Very few Kindred historians know of the Moroi, of course.

The Moroi could do little about the lack of focus and infighting that plagued the Ordo Dracul. Those problems would have to work themselves out over time. What the Hunters could do, however, was mitigate the persecution of the Dragons by other Kindred sects. In cities where the Ordo Dracul needed a foothold but the established Kindred were both powerful and intolerant, the Moroi would creep in, slay a few key individuals and leave. They never declared themselves and never spoke a word of their loyalty to the Ordo Dracul or of their origins in Dracula’s homeland. Further, they never (or rarely) committed diablerie upon their targets, knowing that this unforgivable crime would invite more dogged repercussions. In most cases, the Dragons did not even know about their mysterious benefactors, and arrogantly considered the fact that many of their most stringent opponents met Final Death to be a sort of divine providence.

The fact that no one connected these deaths to the Ordo Dracul didn’t stop perceptive Kindred from connecting them to each other, of course. The killings happened according to a pattern, but lack of easy communication and the nature of what that pattern meant slowed Kindred investigators considerably.

The Moroi would first kill off a target’s herd, servants and any other important mortals, including surviving family. This happened in the space of one or two nights, three at most. The Moroi rarely struck singly. Instead, an entire coterie of Hunters would hunt down the appropriate mortals and slay them. Rather than trying to cloak their killings as accidents or even mundane murders, the Moroi would simply drain these people of blood, leaving them as desiccated husks. When this was complete, the Moroi watched their vampire targets, waiting for them to flee, go to ground, enter torpor or otherwise protect themselves. At that point, the Moroi struck, attacking their foe with as much force as they could bring to bear. The battle was typically over in moments.

While the Moroi never gained the infamy of VII (because they did not mark their crimes and were never as widespread), their tactics did gain some attention. These killings came to be known as the work of “the Spiders,” after the desiccated husks left behind, and having a vampire fall to these mysterious assassins was said to be an omen of bad luck for the Kindred of a city.

To this night, no one (except the Ordo Dracul itself) has connected the “Spider killings” to the Ordo Dracul. This is indeed fortunate for the Dragons, as doubtless some Kindred must survive who lost sires, childer or allies to the Hunters, and would surely want revenge.

The 19th Century
Very little is known of the bloodline’s activities from roughly 1820 to 1900. The Spider Killings ceased as the Ordo Dracul experienced its boom in membership (see Chapter One for more details), and the word moroi existed only on the lips of those knowledgeable in Romanian folklore.

Modern Moroi haven’t provided a reason for this absence, but the Dragons assume that the bloodline, knowing that the Ordo Dracul was now capable of standing on its own, decided that their methods would do more harm than good. This is true, but there is more to the story than that. The Moroi also saw that the world was growing smaller, and as they learned more of Kindred society, their views of that society and their own origins were challenged. Was it possible for two clans to form one bloodline? Could their own legends about Dracula be trusted? Were they merely an experiment performed in the early nights of the Ordo Dracul, “programmed,” in a sense, to defend the covenant? Where was Dracula, now that the Moroi had risked all to defend his followers?

The Ordo Dracul was blissfully unaware of the turmoil in their vicious guardian bloodline. In the meantime, the bloodline retreated to rural villages, leaving behind the cities and dense population centers (and thus other vampires). Moroi who survive from that period, of course, have only hazy recollections, but all report feeling lost or useless, as though their reason for existing had been fulfilled. Indeed, an investigative coterie in France recently reported finding a disused haven, probably (judging from the bones lying about and the legendry of the local area), belonging at one point to a Moroi. A pile of ash and some charcoal smears on the floor provide the only clue as to the former occupant’s fate, but more interesting was an inscription on the wall, written in Latin. It said simply:, “Nothing left to kill.”

The bloodline might well have died out completely before the modern age, having silently and ferociously shepherded the covenant through its own dark age. But the Moroi are creatures of blood and violence, and the first half of the 20th century would bring both to levels that Dracula himself could scarcely have imagined.

The Dragons’ Fangs
World War I coaxed the Moroi in Europe out of hiding. The carnage and confusion in France provided opportunities for feeding such as the bloodline had never seen, and, even farther east, the new weapons being unveiled intrigued the Moroi. The Ordo Dracul, and Kindred society in general, reeled from the slaughter of so many of their vessels, but, in the midst of that carnage, the Moroi presented themselves to the most powerful of the Sworn and the eldest Kogaions they could find. They made no offers, but simply stated that they had once served the covenant at the behest of Dracula himself, and would hold to that bargain now, if the Dragons desired.

The Ordo Dracul did not waste such an opportunity. Entire coteries were formed to track down the Moroi. Those that agreed to serve the covenant were treated well, trained, fed and educated in matters of language, mortal customs and any other necessary skills. Those that refused were normally destroyed, but killing a Moroi is no easy feat. Even tonight, the Ordo Dracul admits that some Moroi escaped and are still at large. Tracking a Moroi, in fact, is often a task given to a martial coterie when the Ordo Dracul feels it has outlasted its usefulness.

Most of the Hunters, however, were eager to join with the covenant. The Ordo Dracul began studying the Moroi and determined that, somehow, Kindred of both the Gangrel and the Nosferatu clans dwelling in isolation in the Romanian forests had somehow “merged,” creating a mutual bloodline. The theory is that Kindred of each clan had changed their Blood into a semblance of the other clan’s Blood. The Ordo Dracul has tried to replicate this feat, but has not yet succeeded. Of course, given the relatively brief time since the “discovery” of the Moroi, it might simply require more research and experimentation.

Aside from the sanguinary questions they presented, the Moroi also had more basic uses in the Ordo Dracul. The covenant first attempted to use them as guardians for Wyrm’s Nests, but with a few notable exceptions, this didn’t work out very well. The Moroi are killers, not watchdogs. If denied their appetite for murder, they tend to go out looking for it, and this kind of aggression isn’t advisable when trying to keep a Wyrm’s Nest hidden and its energies untainted. No, the best use for the Moroi was as weapons.

As the 20th century wore on, the Ordo Dracul slowly established enclaves of Moroi in various places in Europe and the Americas. These enclaves were usually located outside of major population centers, but close enough to humanity to provide food. The Ordo Dracul also sank a great deal of time and energy into teaching the Moroi to feed without killing, and, in some cases, assigned a Kindred Confessor to these enclaves to temper the Hunters’ bloodlust. Suburbs, though not desirable for most Kindred, more closely resembled the rural villages of old than anything else in the modern world. Tonight, the Ordo Dracul often arranges to purchase a house in the center of a suburb if it needs a coterie of Moroi near a given city. That suburb usually experiences a sudden spike in deaths and disappearances, but the Moroi eventually calm down and temper their hunting habits somewhat.

Moroi are occasionally included in normal, student coteries, given the opportunity to study under a mentor and learn the Coils of the Dragon. This is rare, both because the Ordo Dracul doesn’t see the Moroi as having the intelligence and wherewithal necessary to learn the Coils, and because the Order values the Moroi’s martial prowess so highly. More often, a Moroi might be included in a diplomatic mission or investigate coterie as muscle (and admonished not to do anything to compromise a mission). The most common use for the Moroi, however, is assassination.

TWO CLANS, ONE BLOODLINE
Readers might well question how it is possible for two clans to “merge” into a single bloodline. The answer: it isn’t. The Moroi aren’t a single bloodline, but two very similar bloodlines that “evolved” together. The founders of these bloodlines, whoever they truly were, probably did not recognize the differences between their clans, thinking of themselves as vampires first and Nosferatu or Gangrel second, if at all. Isolated together (perhaps even sharing Vitae), their blood merged and mutated, becoming so similar as to be indistinguishable.

Modern Moroi don’t distinguish themselves based on parent clan. Since Hunters “born” of both Gangrel and Nosferatu lose their signature Disciplines (Protean and Nightmare, respectively) and gain the remaining Disciplines common to the other clan (Gangrel gain Vigor and Obfuscate, Nosferatu gain Animalism and Resilience), they seem to have the same capabilities. They also tend to share knowledge of any other Disciplines they know with their “sisters” in the bloodline, meaning any given Moroi might well have some knowledge of Protean and/or Nightmare as well as her four bloodline Disciplines. These two Disciplines are more difficult to learn, granted. Of course, characters, not having read the rulebook, have no concept of how many “experience points” a given Discipline costs to learn.

Identifying a Moroi’s parent clan by the taste of her blood is possible (see p. 163 of Vampire: The Requiem), but a Kindred attempting to do so must have tasted both Nosferatu and Gangrel blood before, and her player receives a –1 modifier to the roll. Also, the Masked Blood Devotion (see p. 200) is only common within the Moroi bloodline, and this also aids in the Hunter being viewed as one lineage, even to its members.

A vampire who makes too great a nuisance of herself, in the Ordo Dracul’s eyes, might receive a visit from the Moroi. Sometimes these visits take the form of the Locust and Spider killings of old, but more often the Moroi simply hunt down and slay the offending Kindred. They mask these killings as the work of Belial’s Brood, accidents, mortal hunters or the normal Byzantine rivalry of Kindred society (though they never use VII as a scapegoat — it’s best not to attract their attention). The Moroi can only be “activated” by a Kogaion or a Sworn Dragon with Covenant Status •••• or more, and indeed, few Kindred of lesser status in the covenant even know of their existence beyond rumors.

The Moroi, for their part, bear the condescension of their “masters” well. Paranoids in the covenant feel that the Hunters are merely biding their time, but the Moroi seldom seem angry or resentful of anything the Dragons do. Most, especially those whose Embrace predates the Second World War, just seem pleased to have a place again.

Covenant: The Moroi are a bloodline exclusive to the Ordo Dracul and the unaligned. New members are chosen from within the covenant or Embraced by Dragon Moroi. As mentioned above, some Moroi chose not to join the Ordo Dracul, but they either met Final Death or went into hiding decades ago. While it’s possible that a Moroi could join one of the other covenants, claiming to be a “normal” Nosferatu (those descended from the Gangrel are too repulsive to claim membership in their parent clan), their murderous instincts would eventually betray them. It is more probable, then, that any non-Dragon Moroi are unaligned, existing on the fringes of vampiric society.

Appearance: Moroi of either lineage take on a yellowish cast to their skin, which lightens to a slightly pinkish color for approximately an hour after feeding. Their eyes lighten, becoming an unnatural ice-blue or jaundiced yellow. Even Nosferatu Moroi who previously exhibited no physical deformity develop this visage after joining the bloodline. Moroi, therefore, dress to cover their inhuman appearance.

Haven: The Moroi, as a kind of “secret weapon” to the Ordo Dracul, are generally given functional, secure havens, often in a city’s Barrens or in a nearby suburb. Sometimes a young coterie is given the task of procuring vessels for a group of Moroi, in order that they be kept out of view of both mortals and a city’s Kindred until such time as they are needed. Moroi with a bit more freedom of movement often choose havens near mortal residential areas, so that they can prey on people in their homes. This instinct seems to have remained with the bloodline since its inception in the far-flung past. Indeed, Moroi in less industrialized countries seem drawn to rural or farming communities.

Background: As the bloodline encompasses two clans, Moroi backgrounds vary. Membership in the Moroi is often offered to Nosferatu or Gangrel who are skilled combatants but aren’t particularly puissant in learning the Coils of the Dragon. Unlike the Sworn of the Axe, membership in the Moroi bloodline isn’t necessarily something to aspire to, as Moroi tend to become sheltered and hidden. When Moroi Embrace directly, they choose soldiers, policemen, gang members and other mortals with some combat experience. Criminals, however, are also common choices, as Moroi Embraced from more conventional stock tend to go mad as the murderous urges appear and their Humanity plummets.

When looking for potential Moroi, the Ordo Dracul looks not only for combat skill and brutality but obedi- ence. The lot of the Moroi is that of a trained killer, let loose upon a target at the Ordo’s behest. While cunning is prized, the Ordo looks askance at Moroi who seem too clever — they’re not prized for their creativity.

Character Creation: Physical Attributes and Skills are primary, almost without exception. Most Moroi have some rating in Intimidation, and many have decent Wits or Presence ratings, but the bloodline’s main talent is killing, and this where they receive their training and encouragement. The Ordo Dracul often provides some rating in Herd or Haven, and other Merits vary based on the background of the character in question. Trading Humanity for Experience is very appropriate for Moroi characters. Buying a second dot of Blood Potency is, of course, required to join any bloodline.

Organization: The bloodline itself has no real organization. Coteries of Moroi Kindred are kept separate from each other. They are told that this is because they are too great an advantage, and thus too tempting a target, to be allowed to gather in numbers, and this is true. A better reason for not allowing the Hunters to communicate or gather, however, is that with their skills as murderers and their bloodlust, they could wreak untold damage on the covenant if they ever decided to turn against the Dragons. The Moroi have never given any indication that they are displeased with their treatment, but elders of the Ordo Dracul insist that such a rebellion is a distinct possibility if the Moroi are left unchecked. Whether the elders feel this way out of simple paranoia or because of privileged information is a mystery.

Concepts: Drill instructor for the Sworn of the Axe, former assassin, fugitive-hunter, guerilla tactician, Kogaion’s bodyguard, prowler of the Barrens, Romanian lore keeper, serial killer, sleeper agent, unrepentant monster.

A COMBATANT’S DREAM
You’re right, of course. The Moroi are designed to be good at combat. They get two of the three physical Disciplines, plus most of the Moroi have some knowledge of Protean or Nightmare and can get easy access to the other. What are we thinking?

Take another look. They’re good at combat — and very little else. They suffer from both the Gangrel and the Nosferatu clan weaknesses, both of which are pretty debilitating if you want to do something simple, like have a normal conversation. The Ordo Dracul views them as attack dogs at best, and relics of the covenant’s brutal past at worst.

This isn’t to say that the Moroi are nonviable or “unbalanced” as characters. They provide interesting roleplaying challenges, to be sure. A character who joins the Moroi bloodline and tries to maintain her Humanity has quite a task ahead of her, as she is in her element only when hunting and killing. The primary instance in which a Moroi character “unbalances” a chronicle is if the chronicle is focused solely (or at least largely) around combat. Chronicles that focus on the larger themes of Vampire: The Requiem, or even on the themes of the Ordo Dracul in general, don’t inordinately favor the Moroi. If anything, these Kindred must struggle to keep up with the subtle espionage and intriguing schemes of their contemporaries.

In the darkest moments of the night, when the halls and corridors of hospitals have fallen quiet, monsters come out. Creeping from their dark holes and hiding places, they assail the old, infirm and mentally ill. While liver-spotted hands are tangled in IV tubes and mad eyes roll like those of panicked cattle, bodies restrained by straps and masks, these victims are abused again and again, their very lives made forfeit. Worse still is when survivors babble their stories through tears and lips flecked with spittle, and their caretakers laugh at them, mock them or slap them until they fall silent. Sometimes, however, caretaker and dependant look into each other’s eyes and see that the same fear haunts them both.

The perpetrators of these horrid abuses are the Morotrophians, leaches who prey upon the lost, desperate and mad during victims’ greatest weakness. For hundreds of years, the bloodline has focused its attention on dominating enclosed institutions where captive and voiceless populations are turned into a constant, constrained and inconsequential buffet for their wicked appetites. Even other Kindred are repulsed by the “Monks’” habits, though such revulsion is not enough to preclude them from retaining the offenders’ services. The liberty to access an imprisoned vessel for weeks on end is a profane joy that few Kindred have experienced in centuries, and the Morotrophians can offer such delight on a nightly basis.

Contrary to perception, not all Morotrophians haunt the sterile halls of mental institutions and retirement homes. Though such havens do make for a majority of the bloodline’s domains, members’ focus is wider. The Monks slip through the cracks and hide in the shadows of any enclosed, controlled facility. In medieval nights, the then “Abbots” preyed on monks or nuns trapped behind monastery or convent walls. Some still follow that tradition, though in modern nights they’re more likely to lurk in the gloom of cult houses where mortal pawns use charisma and religion to bind kine with dependence and the need for acceptance. Others dip their withered fingers in the pies of orphanages and rehab clinics, and a few have even managed to infiltrate prisons (though the last are dangerous places for any Kindred, given tight government control and constant surveillance). Any place in which there is a restricted, contained and mostly voiceless population is prime territory for members of this lineage.

And yet, in the modern nights, Morotrophians face a new challenge as the Malkovian bloodline spreads into one of their traditional seats of power — the mental asylum. The few Kindred who know of both lineages think of them in much the same way (or as one!), but the truth is the two could not be more different.

Where the Malkovians are mad, the lunatics running the asylum, the Morotrophians are stone-cold sane. They use the madness and dependency of others and hold Malkovians in contempt. While it may come back to haunt them, the Morotrophians are certain that it will be they, not the Lunatics, who will rule the roost.

Covenant: The majority of Morotrophians are members of the Invictus, as that group’s insularity and respect for rank and position suits the Monks’ institutionalized mentality. The normal lack of advancement that troubles young Invictus neonates strikes the Morotrophians less severely. They expect to have to earn their place with years of work, and need the security of belonging to a group more than they need immediate opportunity for progression.

The Lancea Sanctum numbers the second most Monks, as the old religious ties of the bloodline have not faded completely. Those Abbots who still fraternize with cults and secluded religious institutions often join with the Sanctified, seeing themselves as brothers in monstrosity. Not all in the Lancea Sanctum share this bond, however, as some orthodox view Morotrophians as particularly noxious abusers of faith. Some Monks have overcome this stigma by assuming the role of “invisible angel,” punishing the wicked on their hunting grounds and bringing death to those in pain. These angels consider themselves to do God’s work, and gain respect for it.

The Morotrophians have a minor presence in the other covenants. There are a few powerful if not respected Abbots in the Ordo Dracul. These Monks bitterly resent their weaknesses and limitations, and strive to overcome them. In doing so they often attain great mystical understanding, but their reliance on human weakness offends many members of the Order, and attempts to escape the bloodline’s history insults brethren. The Carthians tend to be too idealistic and egalitarian for the manipulative and cloistered Morotrophians, though a few reformers whose ideals outweigh their vested interests occasionally join up. The Circle of the Crone includes almost no Morotrophians. The wild, mercurial nature of the Crone is at odds with the conservative, siege mentality of most Abbots. Occasionally, a line member whose influence over a particular institution has brought down condemnation has decided to spend his Requiem alone and unaffiliated, to enjoy his self-proclaimed haven and hunting grounds for himself.

Appearance: Unlike some of their Nosferatu kin, Monks are rarely outright monstrous in appearance. The mark of the Blood is more subtle than that, and perhaps more damaging in the long run. Every Morotrophian has a look about her that most people instinctively associate with a doctor who does lots of unnecessary surgery. It’s a look that combines certain aspects of inbreeding and dead fish — bulging eyes, sallow skin and long, thin fingers that twitch and fidget. Thinning hair, balding pates and over-pronounced, bobbing Adam’s apples are also common.

Monks tend to dress according to their assumed roles, donning costumes that suit their surroundings. An Abbot in a mental hospital, for example, may dress like a nurse or staff member, in a rumpled suit and a (stolen) clip-on nametag. It’s uncommon for a Morotrophian to attempt to appear to be upper management or part of an institution elite. They attempt to blend into the undifferentiated middle ranks, posing as mid-level staff, interns or guards. Some find practicality better than pride and dress the part of the lowest level of employee — janitor, orderly or something similarly faceless that allows them to be anywhere they need to be. Very few Monks assume the roles of inmates; doing so would make them victims, not predators. Those who pose as prey are viewed with a mixture of contempt and horror by their brethren.

Haven: Morotrophians tend to make havens in the bowels of their pet institutions, or in nearby, accessible areas. The most common locations are mental institutions, old folks’ homes, cult houses, monasteries and occasionally prisons or prison-supply houses.

Elder Morotrophians often have secret chambers, hidden in the maze of halls and access corridors of a large institution, constructed during the building or renovation of the place. Some of these hidey-holes are hundreds of years old and are taken for granted as part of a building. No one has any idea that they’re there, they overlook them in plain sight, or they don’t consider what such places are for.

Young Abbots and those who have to infiltrate a foundation do not usually have this luxury, so have to work to maintain their security. They typically chose places deep in the heart of a compound, in cellars and access corridors, where there’s no chance of accidental exposure to sunlight. These areas are then guarded and warded through a mixture of ghoul servants, influence over mortal inmates, and judicious use of the Institutionalize, Nightmare and Obfuscate Disciplines. Given enough time, even a young Morotrophian can make a small area in a secluded corner into a place where no one goes and no one discusses. (This last represented by a Haven with considerable dots in Location and Security, but typically few in Size.) Most Monks are obsessively attached to their havens. The sites are difficult to set up (finding a secure resting place in the midst of a human institution is no small task) and take time to secure and control. There are tales of Morotrophians whose monasteries were closed a hundred years past, yet they still haunt the ruins, slowly starving and giving in to the Beast. Woe betide the Kindred who attempts to unseat a Morotrophian from his home.

Background: Elder line members were often religious heretics, monks or nuns in their mortal days. These Abbots are the source of the line’s old nickname. Many still have a medieval bias to their worldview, and they influence whatever institution they haunt to be run like a monastery, with strict observance and routine that turns obsession into dogma. It’s not unknown for such elders to regulate how many times a day those under their power may blink, going to extremes such as taping eyes open to control the “willfully disobedient.”

Young Morotrophians tend to be chosen from among psychiatrists, psychologists, health-care workers, prison guards and orderlies. Humans who have a personal understanding of institutionalization and the closet society of compounds tend to do best as Monks, and already have access to the resources they will need as members of the line. Combined with the obsessive and controlling nature of lineage elders, these backgrounds lead to young Monks being just as fanatical as their progenitors, simply with a different focus. Where elders may concentrate on isolation and flagellation, young line members use drugs and psychological torture. The results are generally the same, but neonates and ancillae have an easier time passing unnoticed in modern, secular nights.

New inheritors of the line’s blood are also important to elders. The more Morotrophians who are spread through institutions, the greater their collective ability to influence the mortal organizations that control such institutions. Where a single Morotrophian working alone has trouble swaying the kine in charge of an institution, especially if the outside world interferes, a group of line members can collectively blackmail, coerce and intimidate on a wider level. For example, many of the standards and praxis for mental institutions are decided by panels that dictate terms to all locations. A single Morotrophian might be able to coerce only a few mortals on such a panel, but a brood spread through several dozen major foundations may be able to intimidate and Institutionalize a majority of the board. Mortals who already have such influence over councils and administrations thus make ideal candidates for the Embrace.

Character Creation: Morotrophians who lurk within mental institutions and old folks’ homes are an intelligent lot, used to getting their way by force of mind. Their focus on psychiatry and psychology (or at least on passable sounding quackeries of such) leads to a focus on Mental Attributes and Skills, with Academics, Medicine and Politics being common. Those who still infiltrate cults and cloistered religious communities tend to rely on Social Attributes and Skills, despite the fact that they do not come naturally. Empathy, Intimidation and Subterfuge are likely. Such Monks focus on understanding and exploiting the social weakness of others. Line members’ own weaknesses are obvious enough, so they spend a great deal of energy making sure everyone else’s are as well.

Almost all Monks have some level of Contacts and/or Status to represent their ability to infiltrate and manipulate private, enclosed institutions. Herd represents their victims in those places. Abbots who live on facility grounds need sufficient Haven to cover their security, and many have dots of Retainer to represent a ghoul guard or assistant.

Finally, any character who starts play as an Abbot needs a second dot of Blood Potency to be able to join the bloodline. Without it, a character is not given aid in finding her own institution. Nor is she allowed to shelter with her sire. The Morotrophians take care of their own, despising wayward children who don’t shore up the foundations of the system.

Organization: Morotrophians are insular and don’t deal with each other on a nightly basis. Occasionally two Monks share domain over an institution of considerable size, such as a state mental institution that deals with 20,000 cases a year, but this is the exception rather than the rule. Most Morotrophians are obsessed with being lord of the manor and have no desire to allow anyone to compete for their power (much less someone with the same powers and capabilities). When a Monk decides to create progeny, he typically does so by creating a ghoul and seeing how well his servant takes to the ways of the line. The ghoul is taught the ways of Monks, and her ability to survive and thrive under the difficult conditions of an institution are tested. Needless to say, if this indoctrination was discovered by other Kindred it could lead to a blood hunt as a Masquerade breach, but Morotrophians are quiet and careful. If a ghoul ever slips up, she’s destroyed. If she proves her worth, she’s Embraced and sent off to find her own institution. Most sires do a thorough job of setting up a childe, with even the stingiest calling in of favors and using Disciplines to start a neonate off right. Once the setup is complete, however, the childe must stand on her own. The exception is if the childe does not join the bloodline, in which case she is disinherited and never receives any help from the lineage unless she repents and returns to the fold.

Beyond the sire-childe bond, Monks who infiltrate similar institutions maintain a network of correspondence and alliance that they use to manipulate the systems that organize and control their realms. Members who lurk in mental institutions, for example, conspire to intimidate and corrupt groups such as the National Medical Accreditation Committee and State Departments of Mental Health. This cooperation is largely ad-hoc and a matter of common sense. If mortals allegedly in control of such institutions actually bothered to work at controlling them, the Monks would be in very grave danger in very short order.

Favors done outside the shared system (say, a Monk who resides at a prison arranging to have a patient transferred to another Monk’s asylum) are recorded meticulously, and debts owed are one of the few really binding forms of social interaction that occurs between Morotrophians. Every Monk in an area of control knows who owes what level of favor to every other member in and out of that field (old folks’ homes, for example). Anyone who bilks on a debt finds himself out in the cold. Repeat offenders may even be chastised by suffering a government-agency or news-crew investigation of their fief, possibly resulting in the Abbot having to flee his haven for a period.

Concepts: Cruel psychologist, doctor who performs unnecessary surgery, abusive orderly, prison guard, power behind a charismatic cult leader, lurker in the basement, orphanage director, trauma counselor, the thing that watches without being seen, death-row haunt

History
In early 16th century Northern Italy, a young German monk named Ludoldus Bischoffshausen, who was helping to run the pazzarella in Rome, was Embracedby a Nosferatu. Who this mysterious sire was has never been determined, even though many Abbots have spent years researching the subject. What is known is that his childe soon discovered that he had a crippling weakness. He was unable to leave the walls of the pazzarella or his monastery without suffering crippling bouts of nausea and panic. After a breach of the Masquerade that nearly sent Ludoldus to the flames, he fled to France, where he coerced and bound an old friend into giving him refuge.

Ludoldus found that the youths of his new abbey, young and cut off from the world, made a perfect source of sustenance. Shame, fear, force and isolation silenced them about his nocturnal visits. Within a year, Ludoldus had turned his old friend into a personal ghoul, and ruled the roost from behind one abbot or prioress after another.

Eventually Ludoldus created childer, an act born of loneliness and despair. It quickly became obvious, however, that he could not live under the same roof with his progeny. While the feeding of one vampire could be hidden behind closed doors, the feeding of more could not. So he used the influence he had gained to allow his childer to infiltrate abbeys and monasteries of their own. Over the course of a century, perhaps a half-dozen sacred houses were so corrupted, with greater and lesser degrees of success and control. Ludoldus’ brood seemed to established a solid power base.

Members of the line have different explanations for what happened next. Elders say that events were a punishment meted out by God. While Ludoldus always fed in the walls of sacred houses, he took sustenance only from those who sinned. He would watch from the shadows and come forth to punish those who partook of lust, gluttony or pride. (It was believed that for this scourging, God allowed the vampire a place in His home.) Ludoldus’ childer were not so pious, however, and took without caring about acts committed, turning innocents and sinners alike into vessels. In His anger, it is said that God swept His Inquisitorial hand to smite them and teach the brood humility.

Young, secular members of the lineage say the purge was a simple matter of too many institutions with too little influence over space and occupants. It was inevitable that the unscientific methods of control used would fail, especially in an atmosphere of paranoia and hatred.

Whichever interpretation of events is correct, the Inquisition recognized that something was foul in the abbeys of Aix-en-Provence and Bamberg. In the midst of witch and heretic trials, signs of “Devil’s marks” left by the Monks’ feeding blazed a trail that could not be escaped. Half the bloodline was wiped out in a decade, some surviving only by forcing ghouls and patsies to confess for them. (Some Abbots’ control of Institutionalization had grown to a point that dupes feared removal from their own prisons more so than death.)

The Inquisition may have been the end of the bloodline if not for the actions of Ignace Loix, one of Ludoldus’ youngest childer. Following a witch trial in which a doctor convinced the court that the accused was innocent, that it was insanity and not possession that led to the accusations made, Loix attached himself to the doctor and followed him to the growing mental asylums of France’s Great Confinement. There, the vampire recognized thousands of vessels, often chained to beds and unable to move, all of whom were known to be mad and who thus had no voice. It was, in short, a perfect feeding ground for the bloodline, where the terrified tales of madmen would bring only silencing beatings rather than Inquisitorial torches.

Over the next hundred years, the lineage spread throughout mental asylums, finding shelter and protection as confinement and punishment of the mad gained momentum. Though the Great Confinement ended, the asylum as an institution prevailed, and the insane remained victims. It was during this period that the Discipline of Institutionalization saw full flourish. Under its auspice, members of the lineage spread to other foundations: prisons, “homes” for embarrassing members of upper-class families, and the charismatic cults that grew up around the Great Awakening.

By the 18th century, the Morotrophians had spread throughout Europe and achieved a strong hold in America. It was in the New World that the next evolution came, as mental institutions were increasingly used to house the elderly who could no longer take care of themselves. Monks found that the aged made nearly as ideal victims as madmen. For almost two centuries, the Morotrophians were unchallenged and comfortable, lurking in the dark places of vast asylums.

The greatest blow since the Inquisition was dealt to them as late as the 1960s, when a new movement for deinstitutionalization of mental patients swept the United States and parts of Europe. Vast state hospitals were closed down or nearly emptied. The number of patients under state care dropped from 500,000 to 100,000 in less than a decade. Many Morotrophians elders were unable to adjust to the decline and were forced into torpor as their Vitae supplies were reduced to a trickle.

Young members of the bloodline adapted quite handily, though, assuming positions that elders’ failure had opened. Morotrophians simply moved from state-controlled hospitals to privately run and funded shelters, taking their place in the cottage industry of care that arose. Many even found the new arrangement to be superior to the old. Though their havens held fewer victims, there was less governmental control and regulation at work, giving the predators greater freedom and power than ever before.

The latest trend — eagerly adopted by the youngest members of the line and feared by the eldest — is Monk influence of deprogramming and rehabilitation clinics. Lax laws in many jurisdictions allow the manipulators to virtually kidnap victims off the streets and hold them long enough to feed at will. With sway over psychiatrists and lawyers, it’s fairly easy for a modern line member to arrange forced hospitalization of victims for reasons of “danger to self or society.” Some Monks have even made a nocturnal business of it, offering specific victims or types of victims to other vampires with special feeding requirements or jaded pallets. Line elders fear such open manipulation. Rising court cases and public attention reminds them of the scrutiny that preceded the Inquisition.

Society and Culture
After Ludoldus went into torpor in the late 1970s, there has been no current leader of the Monks. Ignace Loix is the most influential member still active, but his power is limited to line members who work with mental hospitals, and mostly only in America and France. While that covers a large portion of the lineage, members outside that group are vocal and independent. Indeed, even Abbots under Loix’s patronage consider him more a figure to be respected in a distant way than a power player to be obeyed. Tom West, the infamous Prince of Bedlam, is the most important British Abbot and is only slightly under Loix in stature thanks to the massive number of favors his “generosity” has accrued over the past five decades.

In general, Monks are not overly concerned with patronage within the bloodline. (Favors owed is their greatest commodity.) Each member is a solitary power, lurking in a cage. Except when dealing with mortal oversight groups, a Monk has little reason or interest in working with others. Members do worry about their status with the Nosferatu overall, as their cousins can often get favors or information not available behind sheltering walls. For that reason, it is not uncommon for a Monk to have a closer (or bitter) relationship with local Nosferatu than with his own bloodline. Abbots often trade other members of the clan shelter, access to Vitae, and a place where Haunts need not feel like freaks or outcasts in exchange for information or services outside a compound. This exchange is often rewarding for both sides. Abbots can be other Nosferatu’s only source of strength and civilization, while Haunts are Abbots’ main line to the outside world.

A Monk seldom steps out of her shelter to play a part in city or covenant politics. If it happens, it’s a result of another vampire intruding on the Monk’s territory, a threat that makes any Morotrophian take extreme measures. He uses all his power and connections with the Nosferatu to force the intruder to back down. The normally retiring Monks can even be driven to physical violence and murder by such invasions, so few Kindred are willing to cross them that way. A few Monks have also found that the undead society of many cities, especially Invictus cities, are incestuous and cliquish enough for the Institutionalize Discipline to function on local Kindred. In such cities, an Abbot may become a political player, parlaying reliable access to blood and the ability to make problems vanish by having mortals committed or imprisoned.

Parent Clan: Daeva. The Mortifiers of the Flesh, however, seem to have an origin beyond that of simple lineage. At Blood Potency 4, a vampire of any clan can join the Mortifiers of the Flesh if they are granted membership by an Avus.

Bloodline Disciplines: Mortifiers retain the Disciplines of their parent clan in addition to gaining access to the Discipline of Scourge.

The Mortifiers of the Flesh are, in some domains, as much a faction within the Lancea Sanctum as they are a bloodline. Dedicated to penitence through personal pain and tribulation, as well as to the religious dogma of the covenant, the so-called Flagellants are often as feared as they are misunderstood.

The bloodline is thought to be as old, at least, as the Black Abbey. Some claim it was begun by the Monachus himself, and that the bloodline’s accessibility from any clan is evidence that its founder was not too far removed from Longinus himself. The more popular history of the Mortifiers, as put forth by more mainstream factions of the covenant, claim that it was founded by enlightened and penitent members of clan Daeva, who gathered after the fall of the Black Monastery and punished themselves for the loss of the Monachus. Some scholars of the Curse — including occultists of the Ordo Dracul — have suggested that Flagellant Blood does not carry the power of any sire (and so is not strictly a bloodline) but can only be transmuted through a force of will. Whatever the truth is, the genealogy of the Mortifiers has clearly been lost to time.

Despite its bloodline’s lost origins, the Mortifiers can trace their history back centuries into the medieval nights. It seems clear that the Mortifiers were inspired by heretically extreme flagellant movements of the mortal church; the eldest Mortifiers claim to have practiced flagellation prior to accepting the Curse. Though members of the line may have had power over the Blood before being subsumed by the covenant, Mortifiers have been included in the membership of the Lancea Sanctum by default since the late fourteenth century. Flagellation movements did not last long in the churches of the kine, but they have no yet died out among the Sanctified. Modern Mortifiers, like those in centuries past, are assumed to be Sanctified, though a few Flagellants must exist outside of the covenant somewhere.

Mortifiers believe that the Curse is a divine punishment in addition to a conscription into holy service, and that vampirism a sin for which the Damned must eternally repent. Taking the Sanctified dogma to the extreme, Mortifiers show penitence through scarification and painful rites that inflict horrible wounds upon themselves. Some Sanctified theologians argue that such penitence reveals a terrible lack of acceptance of the vampire’s earthly role — how can the Sanctified exalt a role he feels ashamed of? Many wise Anointed have come to conclude, however, that guilt and penitence — even when they are counted as weaknesses — can exist alongside reverence of the predatory role.

As Giancarlo of Naples, a Flagellant Priest, wrote to his Archbishop in 1611: “It is not that I believe my earthly service to be shameful, for I strive to fulfill the expectations held for me in Heaven, but how can I deny that my earthly state is sinful? As I have been Damned by the Lord, I am stretched in two ways, as if on the Rack: I must strive to serve as best I can even while I must be punished for the crimes that have led me into service.”

During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Mortifiers were more influential within the covenant — seen as admirably deranged devotees on the extreme border of selfless penitence —but their single-minded dedication to spiritual matters slowly withered their political relevance as the Lancea Sanctum’s union with the Invictus grew more solid. Sanctified authorities have found that such gruesome extremism is often best kept “off the recruitment poster,” so to speak. Flagellants are still sometimes found in political positions within the covenant, however, particularly in more conservative domains.

To Flagellants, the flesh is sinful. The flesh is the domain of the Devil and the Curse’s fuel. By filling the body with pain, they can drive the Devil out, for a time. Flagellants draw out their Vitae to free themselves from it, but must always search for more. “The Blood was given to us,” wrote Giancarlo, “so that we would have more to spend in penance.”

But the soul is pure. The soul can never be touched by the pain inflicted upon the body. The more pain a Flagellant experiences, the more he knows about the limits of the body. In time, he may learn where the body truly ends and the soul begins. One night, he may find that his body finally gives up his soul to Heaven, even while it continues to toil for Vitae on earth.

Mortifiers do their best to keep their spirits pure and strive to keep the Devil out of their body by avoiding frenzy. They seek to avoid all violations of the Traditions, believing they were given to the Kindred as a test — just three commandments to obey, but for all eternity. (“No matter how many or how few laws are held up, sinners shall sin,” wrote one Mortifier.) As a result of their strict piety and avoidance of the Blood, Mortifiers also avoid the Vinculum and all tastes of Kindred Vitae whenever possible. Many Mortifiers undertake voluntary torpor to diminish the demands of the Blood, so they may never have to feed on vampires.

The Mortifiers have, over the centuries, developed a Discipline called Scourge, tied to their knowledge of pain and the flesh. It is this supernatural power, itself caused by a change in the Blood, that proved the Mortifiers to be a bloodline despite their unknown origins and lack of a parent clan. Still, relatively few of the Sanctified who are categorized as Flagellants are able to learn the Discipline, because so few have the will to change their Blood. So it is that many Kindred who are thought to be Mortifiers having difficulty mastering Scourge have not, in fact, even become a part of the bloodline. As a result, those Kindred who are rumored to have left (or failed out of) the Mortifier bloodline were more likely never truly a part of it.

The Flagellants do not recruit Kindred into their ranks, but neither do they keep their ways secret. Vampires who wish to become Mortifiers of the Flesh are challenged to exist as Flagellants for a year and a day before they attempt to transform their Blood through the Ritual of Initiation. During this year, the petitioner is overseen by a Mortifier Avus and guided through philosophical contemplations of penitence and sin, of the body and the soul. The Avus guides the student through the Testament as it appears to a Flagellant, challenges him to undergo new extremes of penance (lashes with barbed wire, swallowing razor blades to symbolize the pains of Kindred service and braving red-hot nails through the flesh) and prompts him to identify his own sins. Only when this year of trials has passed can a Kindred undergo the Ritual of Initiation (see “Organization,” below).

Covenant: The Mortifiers of the Flesh are considered a unique part of the Lancea Sanctum, first spawned by the monks of the Black Abbey. From time to time, Flagellants do leave the Lancea Sanctum, but most are subsequently excommunicated from the society of the bloodline and no longer considered Mortifiers, despite the retention of the bloodline’s mystical qualities. Such outcasts seldom feel welcome anywhere else and become unbound.

Appearance: Flagellants traditionally avoid wearing fancy or expensive clothing, preferring simple, muted and colorless fabrics. They avoid any kind of worldly luxury and do not wear jewelry or other mammon. Most Mortifiers remove any tattoos and piercings left over from their mortal days. Though Mortifiers may keep plainly visible scars as evidence of their piety (or reminders of their sins), such marks are not displayed as a social distinction — they’re possessions kept for the Mortifier’s benefit and no one else’s. Mortifiers often wear minimal clothing (well-worn pants or shorts, for example) when away from mortal eyes, so as not to protect their bodies from simple pains.

Some Mortifiers believe it is an essential act of will to retain scars from important bouts of flagellation. Others believe the unnatural capacity for the undead body to revert to its unscarred state is a defining facet of the Curse: a Flagellant can never be penitent enough. Each night demands new sufferings in pursuit of wisdom and piety.

Haven: In domains with at least a few Mortifiers, there may be a communal haven (often called a monastery), where Flagellants can retreat and perform their penitence. Such communal havens are generally well equipped with the tools of mortification, but are otherwise notably bare. Flagellants usually sit and sleep on hard, undecorated floors. Because they have such simple needs, Flagellants can make use of any remote and private space as a haven. Abandoned factories and industrial sites, littered with rusted and rotten hammers, hooks, wrenches, chains and other tools attract Flagellants. Stone or cement buildings and cold or dark environments are favored over more comfortable options.

Kindred who ask for hospitality within a Mortifier monastery are only turned away if the monastery’s de facto decision-makers have reason to believe the visitor is an outright enemy. Few Kindred, however, seek hospitality at a Mortifier monastery if she has any idea of what goes on there. Mortifiers don’t pressure others to behave as they do, but even many vampires lack the nerves to look on as flesh is beaten and flayed. Visiting Kindred who are susceptible to frenzy may be turned away.

Flagellants who do not stay in a monastery maintain simple havens of their own. In the rare case that a Mortifier keeps a haven more elaborate than a single, bare cell, he may set aside a room for flagellation.

Background: Mortifiers very rarely Embrace, as any existing vampire can be inducted into their ranks. Most Mortifiers don’t believe it is their place to bestow the Curse on others; they hold the Traditions to be inviolate. Mortifiers who do choose to sire a childe suffer a –2 penalty on degeneration and derangement rolls resulting from the Embrace. In the rare cases when Mortifiers do Embrace, they always choose deeply spiritual childer — they need not be Christians, but they must possess a degree of devotion and piety that can withstand the centuries.

Contrary to the stereotype, very few Mortifiers are masochists. Mortifiers do not endure their sufferings because they enjoy pain; quite the opposite. As penitents, they humble themselves through mortification of the flesh. While some twisted individuals among the Mortifiers do get some strange pleasure out of self-flagellation, their love of pain develops after the Blood has been changed. A vampire could not summon the strength of will of change his Blood into that of a Mortifier of the Flesh if his motives were based on anything but spiritual penitence — you cannot lie to the Blood. Mortifiers experience a sad, spiritual comfort from their penitence, but it cannot rightly be considered pleasure.

Character Creation: Mortifiers come from all walks of life and all manner of Requiems. A Mortifier’s Requiem puts his Resistance Attributes to the test. Most Mortifiers are academics, however, who rarely resort to violence against others, so Mental Skills are typically favored. While their reputation might suggest a high Willpower score, many Mortifiers turned to flagellation because they consider themselves to be lacking in it. As a result, many Mortifiers begin with an average Willpower score, then build it up over time. Despite the frequent use a Mortifier gets from the Weaponry Skill, most consider proficiency with weapons to be beside the point. Subterfuge, however, is useful for hiding grotesque scars from narrow-minded Kindred and skittish prey. Remember, also, that a character must have at least a second dot in Blood Potency to be eligible for a bloodline.

Organization: Flagellants are (theoretically) all sworn to follow the Lancea Sanctum leadership and, as such, faithfully follow any Sanctified with a rank within the covenant or city hierarchy. As for the internal relations of the Mortifiers, most cities with sizeable Flagellant populations have a formal or informal leader, called an Abbot. This leader, usually the eldest of the domain’s Mortifiers, is expected to guide the spiritual growth of (and command absolute loyalty from) her fellow Flagellants. The Abbot is also in charge of the monastery, overseeing those decisions that affect the haven as a whole. A Flagellant who disobeys her Abbot or a member of the Anointed is expected to perform an act of atonement (such as the Ritual of Piercing, see below) and can be excommunicated if she refuses.

The Ritual of Piercing is performed as penance for transgressions against earthly authorities, such as a failure to respectfully follow the Bishop’s orders or an insult against the Prince. It uses a nail with a length of barbed wire affixed on to one end. The nail is pushed through the flesh of the penitent Mortifier’s hand or arm, and then the barbed wire is pulled through the wound. A successful Resolve roll is required to begin the ritual, followed by three or more Strength rolls (depending on the length of the barbed wire) to complete the ritual. Each success on each of these rolls causes one point of bashing damage to the penitent Mortifier.

The Ritual of Initiation, held by the Mortifiers of the Flesh to be the most sacred rite a Kindred can attempt, is not actually a ritual at all. After a year and a day spent preparing for the Ritual of Initiation, a petitioner is released to police his own behaviors and administer his own punishments to himself. As a blessing, the Avus bestows a single Vitae (and a dot of Willpower) to the petitioner so that he may join the Mortifiers of the Flesh. Normally, such blood-sharing would be taboo among the Flagellants, so this act is kept secret — hidden behind the fictitious Rite of Initiation.

Concepts: Fallen priest, Father Confessor, prison warden, reclusive monk, religious advisor, religious prisoner, spiritual guide, torturer, visionary.

History and Culture: Byzantine Emperor John I Tzimisces, in power during Armenia’s decision to grant legal religious freedom to the dualist Paulician sect, encouraged an influx of members of the sect into Byzantine lands. With the sect came a small group of Armenian Kindred nomads devoted to the Lancea Sanctum, but possessed of a heresy similar to that of the Paulicians. These Kindred, almost exclusively of Clan Gangrel, had long eked out a furtive existence on the very edges of the Longinian world. Now in Christendom’s greatest metropolis, the sect came to the attention of the Sanctified authority who worked to absorb the nomads into their orthodoxy. With the exception of a pair of elder Savages, the Sanctified met with success.

The two Gangrel, however, found that their relatively easy new existence within the Tagma ton Xenon (the primary military group of the Byzantine Kindred) granted them a reprieve from the base struggle for survival, and they turned their attention ever more deeply to their spiritual explorations. Over time they sired a small brood, which devoted itself to furthering the philosophy of the line, and the group garnered a reputation for studious understanding and spiritual sensitivity that rivaled the Mekhet. The Priscus of Gangrel petitioned the Imperator to elevate the group to the rank of Theme. He did so, naming them Mystikoi and granting them exclusive feeding rights over a monastic order within the city so long as they kept safe the many detailed records of the Athanatoi. This action birthed a thousand-year feud with the Agonistes line (which had, until then, been the primary record-keepers and historians of Constantinople).

At the same time, the eldest Illuminated began slipping into seclusion, often wearing heavy robes to obscure the strange malformations taking root in their physical forms. Only among other members of the line did the Mystikoi leave their physical changes exposed, and within the fellowship the bizarre markings came to signify advanced spiritual understanding. The line withdrew from the Tagma ton Xenon and petitioned for membership in the Lancea Sanctum. They were rejected and took shelter instead under the aegis of the Athanatoi.

The destruction of Constantinople saw the scattering of the Mystikoi. Most traveled north into the Carpathians or east into Russia. There they became wondering priests, a role they were particularly suited to, bridging the gap between animist native Kindred and the monotheistic religious tradition that the pagans found so difficult to understand. In time, the Illuminated drew the attention of a Transylvanian vampire called Vlad Dracula, and the lineage became one of the early cornerstones of the Ordo Dracul, lending the covenant many of its ideals.

The Hidden Church

The bloodline takes care to choose its childer from among the faithful and studious. The lineage respects scholarship and quiet meditation, tasks often at odds with the vociferous Beast of Clan Gangrel. As a result, members must be intelligent and willful enough to overcome the instinctual need to exist forever in the moment. Sires largely reject ceremonial trappings during the Embrace and entrance into the bloodline. They usually encourage childer to continue the research they pursued as mortals, but to add to it studies of faith and philosophy.

The Illuminated maintain a strange, uncomfortable relationship with their inner Beast. Mystikoi philosophy posits three levels of being: the physical, the intellectual and the spiritual, each a more pure pursuit than the last. Traditional Mystikoi faith upholds the Beast as the syzygos, the Divine Self, a spiritual guide towards transcendence. The Beast is that which is eternal within the Kindred, and thus more akin to the divine source than not. While the Sanctified pursue oneness with the archons, the Darkness’s jailors over his creation, the Illuminated step up the rung, setting their sights on the higher Unity. Through the secrets of Spiritus Sancti, the lineage communes with the hidden world. Most consider the spirits they encounter through the power to be higher beings, the spiritual counterparts to physical creation, and emulate them in order to become more like them. (The vicious behavior among spirits observed by elders of the line serves as part of the reason that so many consider their Beast a divine guide.)

In modern nights a schism has formed within the bloodline. Some members claim that the Beast, as a creation of the Darkness, serves primarily as a cruel warden over the jail of the adherent’s physical form. Furthermore, the spirits the Mystikoi venerate exist primarily as a reflection of the physical world. No understanding of the divine can be garnered from meditation on such base entities. These Kindred instead work to reject and chain the Beast, pursuing perfection primarily through the Coils of the Dragon and utilizing Spiritus Sancti as a tool of study.

Like many older bloodlines, the Mystikoi have almost nothing in the way of an overarching organization. Their rejection of ritual as frivolous pomp results in a culture based primarily in the members’ understanding of how one goes about scholarship and study, an understanding that changes over the centuries. Teachers have a position of particular reverence within the line, however, and those who serve as Avus to bloodline applicants earn a great deal of respect.

Reputation: The Mystikoi, though historically important, remain a small and insular bloodline in the modern nights. They tend to operate in separate enclaves, sharing their discoveries with one another and the Ordo Dracul. They rarely burden unbelievers with their theories and almost never proselytize. As a result, few Kindred have a strong opinion of them. They go largely unnoticed by both the Invictus and the Carthians, who simply don’t share their esoteric interests. The Circle of the Crone feels that the line likely began among their number but has become woefully misguided over the centuries. The Sanctified still consider them heretical, but hardly any more so than the Dragons who they associate with.

Members of the Ordo Dracul tend to hold the lineage in some esteem. The Illuminated not only focus their existence on the study of philosophy and esoterica (primary concerns of the Order as a whole), they were also the first lineage outside of Dracula’s to pledge itself wholesale to the Dragons in the early nights of the covenant’s history. To this night, the vast majority of the Mystikoi hold membership among the Dragons, while a rare few join the other major covenants. For their part, the Mystikoi work well with members of other lines and covenants, as they are often eager to learn more of the world around them in all of its endless variations and more than happy to explore the philosophies of other vampires, at least for a while.

Concepts: Antiquities dealer, bizarre banker, Catholic priest-turned-Longinian heretic, drug-addicted student, esoteric scholar, New Age guru, science fiction writer, sorority sister, street corner preacher, weird scientist

The Nahualli is a relatively recent bloodline, barely more than a century old. The lineage was founded near the end of the 19th century in Mexico, by a Ventrue of Spanish descent named Vinicio Peralta de Mosquera. Taking inspiration from certain aspects of Aztec religion, de Mosquera came to the conclusion that a Kindred was in effect a dual being, a dark soul and a light soul, sharing a single body. The Beast was one aspect of this nature, and the conscience remaining from before the Embrace was the other. Only through the acceptance of both could a Kindred attain a perfect existence.

Tonight, the Nahualli have splintered into two factions, each led at least nominally by de Mosquera’s two childer, Roca and Bellido. Roca’s followers pursue the founder’s teachings under the guise of religion, while Bellido’s group takes a more studied, almost clinical approach.

In keeping with de Mosquera’s dictates, those of his lineage usually appear cultured, even genteel. They not only invite the Beast’s urgings freely, however, they practice ritual murders that chill the Vitae of even the most jaded Kindred. The “Jekylls,” as they’re known in undead circles (where they’re known at all), hope that such extreme, dichotomous behavior will somehow further their progression to the perfect balance of their dual natures.

The Nahualli are shunned in traditional vampire society, not only because of members’ grisly practices, but because they tend to be volatile and a risk to the Tradition of secrecy. Of the few Kindred aware of the line’s existence, most believe the Nahualli are simply Ventrue who have a weakness for multiple-personality disorder… and serial murder.

Covenant: Nahualli who regard their condition as primarily one of philosophical choice gravitate toward the Carthians, who represent a political allegory to line members’ own personal condition. Those who walk a more spiritual road are drawn to the Circle of the Crone, their theology being readily adaptable to that of the Acolytes. The Invictus draws members across the bloodline, no doubt due to the lingering effects of Ventrue parentage. Remaining Jekylls tend to go unaligned, as they prefer not to adopt a single set or communal goals. While a few join the Ordo Dracul for its dispassionate analysis of what would otherwise be regarded as horrific abuses, few members find a home in the Lancea Sanctum. Conflicting theology or a specific lack of spirituality is simply too great an impediment to being Sanctified.

Appearance: The Nahualli originally Embraced only childer of Mexican-Spanish heritage. Virtually all elders are of such origins. This tendency is more a result of geography than any racial preference, however, and the line now has representatives of most races. Like the Ventrue, Jekylls tend to dress as befits their status, although their attire is often less ostentatious than that of some in their parent clan, because many Nahualli have an academic background.

Haven: Line members, like the Ventrue, favor well-appointed retreats. A Nahualli’s abode is more likely to be stocked with texts on religion or psychology, or with archaeological artifacts than with designer furniture. Elders of the lineage often favor stonework over other building materials, perhaps as a reminder of the havens of their early days. Due to the nature of their practices, most choose shelters isolated from society to lessen the likelihood of discovery. Those who don’t have such a luxury usually find a separate location where they’re safe to conduct their rituals. If not without fear of discovery, they can at least go without fear of compromising their havens.

Background: The Nahualli are exceedingly particular about indoctrinating new members. The very nature of their rituals would draw the attention of mortal authorities, so discretion is mandatory. The only time a would-be sire Embraces is when a new cabal of members is founded, and even then careful consideration is given to any choice. Philosophy is also central to the very being of
the Nahualli and requires a certain mindset in a prospective inductee. Those of Roca’s following choose childer who might be described as charismatic, but naïve, with few social ties (the very sort targeted by religious cults). The more studious members descended from Bellido focus primarily on academics who’ve proven capable of entertaining unusual premises, or who are simply amoral in their pursuit of knowledge.

Character Creation: A character’s faction in the bloodline is influential to the qualities that he’s likely to possess. Roca’s initiates favor Social Attributes and Skills, the better to pursue and spread the gospel of their faithful interpretation of the vampiric “twin soul.” Meanwhile, Bellido’s colleagues focus on Mental Traits, primary Intelligence and Skills such as Academics, Investigation, Medicine, Occult and Science. The same can be said of Merits, with the first faction putting emphasis on Social ones such as Contacts, Mentor and Resources, and the second group seeking immersion in Mental Merits like Common Sense, Eidetic Memory, Encyclopedic Knowledge and Meditative Mind. Both sides recognize the importance of Physical traits, though, and give them due attention.

Highly prized across the bloodline is the Humanity of a newcomer. While the lineage’s practices soon wear morality down, a strong foundation helps establish a middle ground with the Beast in an effort to balance the two parts of the soul. Someone who joins who is already a moral degenerate faces a much more challenging struggle to find balance. Indeed, a wanton killer might never find equilibrium and makes a target of himself among brethren who decide he’s lost his way.

Organization: Roca’s religiously motivated group is formally structured. That isn’t necessarily surprising, since the bloodline is similar to a cult in many ways, and Roca is at the top. All of her followers in a given city belong to a group referred to as a calpulli. There are nearly always three to five members in a calpulli, unless it is still formative. Fewer than three are unable to properly complete the bloodline’s ritual practices. More than five are not only unnecessary, but often pose a risk of exposure. Seldom are all the members of a calpulli Kindred. One or two might be vampires and the rest ghouls bound to the eldest line member. The eldest Nahualli in a calpulli serves as a leader in rites, and is sometimes referred to as Tlamatinime (the Knower). For bloodline matters within a calpulli, the Tlamatinime’s word is law. Needless to say, no Prince would smile upon such usurpation. All the more reason why Nahualli typically present themselves to Kindred society as “mere” Ventrue.

For Nahualli who take Bellido’s intellectual approach, no formal organization exists. Seldom more than a single Nahualli of this sort is found in a city, and little communication occurs between them. Each pursues his study on his own, sharing little for fear that his brethren will steal any “discovery” he makes and claim it for their own.

Concepts: Actor, archaeologist, cult leader, museum curator, psychologist, smuggler, surgeon, theologian History

The bloodline’s founder, Vinicio Peralta de Mosquera, was Embraced by an unnamed Ventrue sometime during the late 16th century in Seville, Spain. De Mosquera was an instructor in theology at the university, which attracted his sire’s attention (himself a fairly well-placed member of the Lancea Sanctum). De Mosquera joined his sire’s covenant, but also continued to follow his own studies.

De Mosquera remained Sanctified for over a century, but had increasing difficulty reconciling the teachings of the covenant with his own inclinations. Why, for example, would God choose to set up as an example of wickedness a being more powerful than a righteous mortal? The mortal Church insisted that God did not tempt mankind, yet it seemed to de Mosquera that the immediate power of undeath posed exactly that to short-sighted kine. Even worse, the prospect of true damnation seemed distant to a being who could easily exist for centuries — and possibly longer. De Mosquera found it harder and harder to accept the Spear’s doctrine as the truth of the Kindred condition.

While De Mosquera was inquisitive, he wasn’t foolish. He understood all too well what the fate of any outspoken critic would be. (Especially one whose arguments could cite book, chapter and verse of a long list of contradictions in Scripture.) By that time, Spanish colonies in the New World had considerable size and population. Seville, the main port of call for vessels traveling to and from the colonies, provided de Mosquera with the opportunity to escape the oppression of his covenant.

New Spain
De Mosquera departed for the colony of New Spain, what roughly corresponds to modern Mexico, near the end of the 18th century. He settled in Mexico City, which by that time had a population of well over 100,000, the vast majority of whom were poor, indigenous people. Easy prey for one of the earliest Kindred in that region.

For years, de Mosquera existed virtually alone, devoid of contact with other undead, and interacting with mortals only to feed. The New World had not drawn many of his kind for fear of travel and lack of vessels. De Mosquera therefore distracted himself by studying the Aztec culture still in evidence. Remnants of an older city, Tenochitlán, the capital of the fallen civilization, occupied the same site as Mexico City, and remains of it were apparent everywhere. Street vendors sold Aztec relics, pottery and jewelry. The very stones from Aztec buildings were used to erect new structures in the contemporary city.

Even after decades as an inhuman predator, de Mosquera was shocked by the apparent viciousness of Aztec religious practices. Ritual sacrifice was practiced regularly in a manner that seemed almost gluttonous in its excess. He found evidence of mass killings that reached into the thousands. Beheading, flaying, the drowning of children, and the cutting out of hearts from living victims were practiced in regular cycles to appease the gods, both benign and malignant. The sheer brutality of the culture captivated the vampire. He made numerous nighttime visits to the University of Mexico where the Spanish viceroy had ordered most Aztec artifacts to be stored. The Church, and thus the viceroy, believed the relics could instigate anarchy by their very presence, and the public needed protection from them. Perhaps there was some foundation to these fears, for de Mosquera felt his blood stir just being in their presence.

The Nahualli
One of the elements de Mosquera found most intriguing about the Aztec religion was the concept of deities having multiple aspects. The chief god of the pantheon, Tezcatlipoca, was a dark and primarily evil god. He was the deity of night and deceit, famine and disease. His name meant “The Smoking Mirror,” for he represented all that was veiled in the world.

De Mosquera noted, however, that Tezcatlipoca also had other aspects. To the Aztecs, another identity wasn’t merely another focus or realm of authority, it was for all purposes another entity. Tezcatlipoca, could also appear as Quetzalcóatl, the Plumed Serpent, god of knowledge and light. The concept was foreign to de Mosquera’s western philosophy, but he saw a parallel to the Kindred’s unliving yet immortal existence.

The Ventrue recognized Tezcatlipoca as a more appropriate patron for the Kindred than the righteous God of the Lancea Sanctum. Tezcatlipoca was lord of the night, whereas the Christian deity was associated with the sun. Tezcatlipoca was the dark reflection of life, a smoking mirror of perception. But, like the Kindred, there remained aspects of good within his being. Where the difference came, in de Mosquera’s view, was that nowhere did he find evidence that Tezcatlipoca tried to reconcile his different aspects. In his evil aspect, Tezcatlipoca had the potential to destroy existence itself. But when in his good aspect, he represented renewal and protection.

After decades of studying Aztec spirituality, de Mosquera came to the conclusion that his elders had led him down a path doomed to failure. Since he had been Embraced, he had been taught to control the Beast, similar to the way in which he had been taught as a human to avoid mortal sins. Were it necessary to protect the Tradition of secrecy, perhaps he could have understood it. Yet most Kindred spoke of the Beast as though it were an alien creature to be feared and avoided. De Mosquera recognized that the Beast was merely an aspect of a vampire’s existence, neither to be feared nor preferred over the more reasoned existence most Kindred sought to lead.

Sometime about the mid-19th century, de Mosquera diverged from the Ventrue clan by the force of his new convictions, initiating his own bloodline. Or at least that’s the story the Nahualli tell. Other Kindred who know of the lineage claim that’s when de Mosquera finally succumbed to Ventrue fragility and plunged into full-blown dementia. There may be some truth to both accounts. Regardless, it was sometime around the middle of the century that de Mosquera stopped considering himself a Ventrue and took the name Nahualli, which he felt was a more appropriate descriptor for his new course.

The Ritual Of Flaying Men
At the middle of March, a calpulli or solitary Nahualli captures a male victim, preferably a warrior of some type (the term “warrior” can be interpreted liberally if necessary; a fireman or police officer might apply). The victim is skinned alive and the regional Tlamatinime or other performer wears the skin for the remainder of the night.

This horrendous practice is ironically performed by line members when they’re most grounded — they’re fed and avoid possible triggers of derangements. De Mosquera began this tradition in tribute to Aztec practices, making offerings of his own to the Beast, what he came to call the Smoking Mirror. De Mosquera believed that by performing such gruesome acts while in a rational state, he honored the irrational aspect of the vampiric condition. Thus, he recognized the two sides of undeath, but distinguished them from each other. Tonight, outsiders point to the Ritual of Flaying Men and others like it as proof that the lineage founder had gone raving mad. That his childer still perform the rite might be testament to their own instability.

Early Nights
De Mosquera Embraced his first two childer at the end of the 19th century. Perhaps still influenced by his Ventrue heritage, he chose both from influential backgrounds in Mexico City. Luis Valdivia Tavares Bellido was a prominent philosophy professor at the University of Mexico who was intrigued by the radical theories of psychology developing in Europe. Beatriz Quadros Roca was the only remaining member of a family that claimed to trace descent from Moctezuma, one of the last great Aztec emperors. The fact that Roca had inherited a small fortune from her family’s silver mining concerns probably influenced the choice as well.

In time, de Mosquera found his childer receptive to his teachings. Neither balked at the ritual murders to which he exposed them (but then again, prior to their Embrace, neither had to drink blood to survive, either). Given their isolation from established Kindred society, the childer had no other frame of reference from which to view their new reality.

The small coterie practiced all manner of ritual murder. Victims were beheaded, skinned, burned, drowned or had their hearts removed while they still lived. De Mosquera taught these gruesome practices, he said, to allow the neonates to honor their own Smoking Mirrors. The rituals were planned to coincide loosely with Aztec festivals, initially only as a matter of form. When rites were not performed, de Mosquera required his childer to exhibit benevolence toward mortals. His requirements did not prohibit feeding, but he stressed that such should be as gentle and painless as possible. Only by so dividing the aspects of their Kindred nature could the childer realize their potential as dual beings.

Although both were receptive, the two approached their sire’s lessons in drastically different ways. Bellido focused on psychological aspects, noting that the Aztecs believed the soul resided in three parts, which largely corresponded with Freud’s concepts of the id, ego and super-ego. Roca was drawn to the religious aspects of her training, perhaps due to her own claimed heritage or simply to differentiate herself from her undead sibling.

This divergence between the two led to a competition between them for their sire’s approval. Bellido’s academic background allowed him to converse with de Mosquera about matters to which Roca had little if any knowledge. Meanwhile, Roca, an attractive and forceful woman, could easily hold her own in gaining de Mosquera’s attention, if by less intellectual means.

The Great Feast Day Rite
In this ritual, a female captive is beheaded while standing. Participants push her body around until it falls, allowing the blood shed to cover as much ground as possible.

Final Death
By the time de Mosquera founded his lineage, his blood had grown in potency to the point that only other Kindred Vitae could sustain him. The three solved this problem in a fashion that traditional Kindred society decries as both repulsive and incestuous. The coterie Embraced new childer for the sole purpose of appeasing the elder’s hunger.

In order to avoid the risk of the Vinculum, de Mosquera drained newly created vampires completely. As a further safeguard, he instructed Roca and Bellido to impose Final Death on any who happened to survive his ministrations. While he informed his childer that such measures were simply meant to limit the strain that more vampires would inflict on the city’s mortals, both suspected there was another reason.

Each sought to pry the answer from their sire, and both were able to piece together much of the truth from the partial answers they received and from their own observations. Roca recognized the potential to gain control of the coterie. Knowing her own weakness in resisting the Beast, it took little effort to stage feedings for de Mosquera with “half-full” vessels. If her sire succumbed to Wassail, she simply made sure that she was the first he reached.

De Mosquera took no notice of his childe’s manipulation. Some modern Nahualli believe he had separated his aspects so thoroughly that the two had no knowledge of each other’s actions. His rational self was unaware that the Smoking Mirror risked Vinculum. Other more cynical Kindred are of the opinion that de Mosquera was a victim of multiple personality disorder, likely triggered by frenzy. Either way, the end result was the same.

Roca’s sibling Bellido was not as blind as his sire. Some time after de Mosquera fell under Roca’s influence, one of the two childer inflicted Final Death on the sire. Two stories are told about how the founder was slain, depending on which faction tells the tale.

Those of Bellido’s ancestry assert that the relationship between the men was close, and Roca feared that Bellido would alert the sire to the woman’s treachery. She therefore drove de Mosquera into torpor with a stake through the heart and had mortal underlings drag him into the daylight.

Roca’s followers claim that Bellido murdered the sire because de Mosquera favored the woman more. They freely admit to Roca’s attempts to trap de Mosquera by the Vinculum, and insist that proves the truth of their account. Bellido’s only choice was to be damned to the bottom of the coterie’s pecking order or to eliminate his creator.

The Nahualli Divided
Not surprisingly, the two remaining members of the bloodline split. They had already drifted considerably in their interpretations of de Mosquera’s teachings. More and more, Bellido focused on the psychological aspects of differentiating the Beast from the more controlled portion of the vampire psyche. Roca continued down the spiritual road, adopting de Mosquera’s concept of the Smoking Mirror as not only a separate entity outside a vampire, but she elevated it to almost godlike status.

Ceasing Of Water
By Aztec tradition, this ritual is performed in mid-February. The ritual victim is beaten until he cries. At that point, the beatings cease and participants hold the victim under water until he drowns. Staying true to Aztec practices, the Nahualli prefer to subject a child to this atrocity.

For a short while, the two Nahualli continued to exist in Mexico City, but grew increasingly hostile. Both realized the need to build their own coteries, not only for protection against each other, but to assist in performing the rituals that de Mosquera had taught them. Roca was determined to remain in the city; she claimed her ancestry gave her that right. Furthermore, the nearby ruins of Teotihuacán, the City of the Gods, held tremendous importance to her beliefs. Bellido, looking on Roca as primitive and uneducated, ceded Mexico City, insisting that his enlightened view was not tied to the “geography of superstition.”

Over the decades that followed, both factions grew significantly and extended from central Mexico. The surge of population in the United States drew their largest numbers, although some (primarily those of Roca’s faction) traveled to South America. By the 1940s, they had increasing contact with other members of Kindred society as more and more traveled north.

Some foreign Kindred were initially confused by the Nahualli’s seeming gentle nature. Other vampires quickly saw the newcomers as dangerously unpredictable and a threat to the Traditions. Not only was the bloodline apparently susceptible to frenzy, few of its members even attempted to resist the urges of the Beast. Their ritual practices were horrifically violent, apparently for the sake of violence itself, and they left the bodies of victims in their wake.

Nahualli cabals were soon considered a danger to Kindred as a whole, regardless of whether they violated secrecy or not. In some cities, Princes declared blood hunts to eliminate the bloodline. Others exiled Jekylls, hoping that others would find a way to deal with the problems the outcasts posed. Only in a few cities, usually those where the Circle of the Crone held considerable influence, did Kindred leadership tolerate the Nahualli (unless their activities posed an unmistakable threat).

Society and Culture
Tonight, the Nahualli have learned to keep a low profile among mortals and other vampires. Nearly half a century of blood hunts and exile has taught them that the average Kindred is too bound by tradition or too narrow minded to accept a dual nature. When dealing with other undead, Jekylls usually present themselves as simple Ventrue, if the subject arises at all. They don’t see this as a deceit, but just another aspect of their faceted nature.

Nahualli are generally very civil, bordering on kindness to both mortals and other vampires. Elders stress such decorum as necessary as willingness to accept the Beast. To those unaware of line members’ dual identities, Nahualli often seem to be moral exemplars (or naïve fools who look like easy victims).

Day Of The Dead
Traditionally, this festival is recognized by the bloodline sometime in mid- to late August. A victim is lowered into a fire pit or placed on a pyre and burned alive. Before the victim expires, she is pulled from the fire — usually with chains so the Nahualli avoid the flames — and her heart is cut out.

As a whole, Nahualli seldom become as involved in Kindred politics and infighting as their parent clan members. They find such endeavors distracting from their higher pursuit. Such dissociation is probably a survival trait as well. A Nahualli is ill prepared to take a Harpy’s barb in court without loosing the Beast.

During their many of their rituals or when in frenzy, the veneer of Nahualli benevolence is torn asunder. Any acts committed during frenzy are “the province of the Smoking Mirror” and a line member professes no remorse over them. Likewise, no matter how vile a ritual turns, it is the dark side that’s served, not the light. Or so the brood claims. Simply saying it doesn’t necessarily make it so, however.

Humanity usually dwindles quickly in the Nahualli soul. No one, no matter how pious or how caring they once might have been, can perform such acts of cruelty without suffering. And loosing the Beast freely just reminds it how it hates to go back into its cave. Weak-willed Nahualli can succumb to their inherited weakness for mental failings in short order. For the strong willed, it may take longer, but the ultimate outcome is rarely in doubt. In either case, the once-benevolent face of a Nahualli becomes nothing more than a mask for the madness raging beneath.

The Two Factions
Both Roca and Bellido’s factions exist tonight. The Nahualli, never a wide lineage, was significantly reduced by backlash from traditional Kindred society. Neither faction is represented in more than a handful of cities. Together, total membership may number a few dozen.

Each group insists the other is not truly Nahualli, but a degenerate offshoot. Both continue to practice the same rites that de Mosquera taught. Each also maintains the belief that by separating the aspects of their vampiric nature, they can somehow attain a pure state of being.

Roca’s faithful approach the line’s tenets with a religious reverence and have gravitated toward traditional Aztec trappings, using obsidian blades and even wearing ceremonial garb. They deify the Smoking Mirror (their Beast), and understand frenzies to be a form of divine possession. By extrapolation, bestial impulses are merely the gods’ aspects made manifest. It therefore falls to the individual to perfect the light aspect of her nature when a god is not upon her.

Bellido’s students take a clinical approach, although their efforts are no less supernatural. They use modern implements to perform de Mosquera’s rituals and refer to the rites as “exercises.” They insist that the Beast is an external manifestation of the id and that repression of it is damaging to the undead psyche. Likewise, the superego — that part of the self that is often associated with a “conscience” — must be cultivated. Given the dual nature of the Kindred condition, the perfect model is a dual-natured mind.

While factional differences seem vast to the Nahualli, their conflict seems semantic to an outsider. In fact, to other Kindred, the Nahualli can be an erratic and volatile menace.

Rituals of Damnation
The Nahualli do not murder with wanton abandon, contrary to the claims of other Kindred, and contrary to seeming evidence. Following their interpretation of de Mosquera’s teachings, the factions practice grisly but highly regimented murder. Specific acts, approximate times of year, and appropriate types of victims have long been decreed. The founder derived each from Aztec tradition, because he believed it to in some way strengthen the demarcation between light and dark aspects. Samples of those rites are scattered throughout this bloodline write-up.

To the modern reader, Aztec sacrifices read like something from a horror novel. While archaeologists and historians argue about the exact nature of these practices, the fact remains that the Aztec population accepted them as a part of life, without necessarily sinking into depravity as a culture. Social and religious tenets allowed them to accept and even celebrate rites that tonight seem abhorrent to all but the most bestial.

And yet, de Mosquera’s followers do not have the Aztec’s unique viewpoint on ritual sacrifice infused into them. In spite of the progenitor’s teachings and claims to the contrary, the Nahualli do risk loss of Humanity and degeneration. Thanks to the power of the bloodline’s belief, however, degeneration rolls made for acts committed in rites do receive a +1 bonus. The performers believe (to varying degrees) that a part of themselves becomes “pure” as a result of such actions. This bonus applies to only degeneration rolls called for by acts committed during a Nahualli ritual.

Despite this emotional reinforcement, many of the bloodline rapidly slide into the depths of depravity. A few draugr arose early during Nahualli expansion, complicating relations with other Kindred. Tonight, the bloodline keeps a close eye on its members, quickly and quietly dispatching any who sink too far into the Beast. These fallen individuals are considered to have lost the balance of their aspects, forever indulging in the Smoking Mirror alone.

The potential for a Nahualli to frenzy during a ritual is great. The presence of vast quantities of blood is often unavoidable, and some rites involve fire. While the bloodline in general does not restrain frenzies, members are aware of the potential for disaster. It’s standard practice for all participants to have fed fully before beginning a killing, at least reducing the chance of Wassail.

Nahualli groups that survive more than a short while in a city have a secured location for their repugnant practices. It may be an abandoned portion of a subway or a maintenance tunnel, although the presence of Nosferatu or other undead who also lurk there makes such a choice a risky proposition. Others rely on wealth to protect their “temples,” hiding them atop penthouses or on country estates. Finding a suitable location is the first priority of any Nahualli calpulli in a new city.

Tezcatlipoca’s Gift
Some Nahualli groups practice a year-long rite that requires them to hold a male captive the entire time. Young, male Kindred are ideal subjects. During the year, the victim is confined but granted any luxury short of freedom. At the end of the year, the group takes the victim to a designated shrine and removes his heart, preferably before administering Final Death. Needless to say, this ritual alone is likely to turn most of Kindred society against the bloodline.

Spawned in Czechoslovakia, the Nelapsi are an odd breed. Their appetites are legendary, as are their tendencies toward obsessive and quirkish personalities. Indeed, given their extreme thirst, it’s probably fortunate that few have spread beyond the Zemplin region, where they first emerged. Even other Kindred consider the Nelapsi something of a plague. This impression, and their moniker, relates to line members’ monstrous hunger, which is sufficient to depopulate a small community in short order. Despite their proclivity for charming personality and political savvy — no doubt due to their Daeva lineage — “Gluttons” often find themselves accused of endangering the delicate blood supply for all undead. And matters aren’t helped by rumors of the Nelapsi taking pleasure in “haunting” areas that they frequent, primarily by inspiring feelings of dread in the mortals whom they stalk.

Records of the Gluttons stretch back to folktales of the Dark Ages, many of which may be the result of just a few of the brood who hunted and thrived in and around eastern Europe. According to the stories, the Nelapsi mixed their tremendous appetites with cunning and charm. Superstitious locals ascribed all manner of hauntings to the vampires, and it’s sure that at least some of those assertions are true. Unlike certain other Kindred (such as the early Invictus) who sometimes took up a mantle of authority among humans, the Nelapsi often indulged in curiously anarchic behavior. Many a tale relates how one decided to prey on a particular village, but instead of exercising authority through the powers of undeath, he let strange sightings and ghostly sounds work the villagers into a pall of fear. By influencing the minds of the herd with nightmares and hallucinations, the Nelapsi sowed confusion, distrust and misdirection, thereby hiding his own part in the chaos. A Nelapsi who does the same in modern nights could seem like an unflagging, stoic individual in the midst of widespread terror, drawing mortals to himself through his stability and apparent dauntlessness.

Tonight’s Nelapsi have spread somewhat from their ancestral home. Still, they’re uncommon in the Americas, and this situation is unlikely to change. Thus far their predation has not drawn the full wrath of other Kindred upon them, but the Gluttons do make convenient scapegoats when feeding problems or conflicts over herds arise. Nelapsi are not widespread as a result, and groups of them are particularly unusual. While in earlier nights, line members would have inhabited towns with a reasonably large populace, the better to slake their tremendous thirst, there’s too much danger of running into another Kindred in tonight’s major cities. Many Nelapsi take residence in outlying towns and villages where they can be sure to avoid running afoul of competition.

Old World line members take some pleasure in cowing mortals into submission through use of indirect fear, triggered through their special Devotions. Modern Nelapsi usually avoid confrontation altogether if possible, but still keep a territorial watch over their own small fiefdoms. The presence of even one other vampire in an area can be a serious problem, since the Gluttons have enough trouble dealing with the difficulties of their own feeding. A few young members establish residence in suburban areas and occasionally drive into larger cities, but they don’t receive a warm reception from resident Kindred and rarely make their way into the society of the undead.

Modern Nelapsi often exhibit skittish behavior around other vampires, which isn’t surprising given their inherent tendency to threaten the Masquerade. Choices of childer (when the Embrace is granted at all) reinforce this manner. While siring is a dangerous proposition for straining an already stretched blood supply, Nelapsi can sire for any of the reasons that motivate other Kindred: jealousy, loneliness, anger, remorse. As a Daeva bloodline, they sometimes pick childer who resonate with a sire’s own vices. Old Gluttons often exert a powerful influence over their neonates, repeatedly hammering home the necessity of caution in dealing with other Kindred. Those rare vampires who align themselves to the bloodline out of personal predilection soon discover that other Nelapsi are quick to watch and slow to trust newcomers. All of these conditions combine to make new Nelapsi uncommon. The lineage has little more than suspicion to offer outsiders who join, and no compelling reason for a young Daeva to seek the blood out. A few would-be Nelapsi childer resist their sires’ influence and go their own way or even join a different bloodline, but such rebellious youth are scorned by their progenitors and former cousins.

Covenant: Nelapsi relations with covenants tend to be extreme, based primarily on how a vampire society views Gluttons’ insatiable hunger. Most Nelapsi gravitate toward the Invictus, whose feudal model appeals to the old European sensibilities of the line’s origins (which are also passed from sire to childe). While Nelapsi don’t seek out positions of authority in the First Estate (it draws too much attention), they usually have the social graces, appreciation of authority, and sense of decorum that helps them to integrate well into that stratified group. Elder Nelapsi who make their peace with other Kindred (uncommon though such a thing may be) also gravitate toward the Invictus. They find a certain comfort in Invictus attitudes toward hierarchical control, which mirrors the Nelapsi tendency to exist as secretive monsters presiding over whole villages through a combination of terror and awe.

The Carthian Movement, by contrast, is a subject of bitter divide for the bloodline. Old Nelapsi consider the Carthians little more than peasant rabble, not worthy of their own Vitae. Age, cunning and strength, elders proclaim, should be the basis of rulership. Some young line members aren’t so sure. Since gathering a herd poses special difficulties for Gluttons, modern converts assert that blending in with mortal institutions and adopting their policies is the best way to avoid drawing unwanted attention. More importantly, quite a few young Nelapsi chafe at the bonds imposed by their sires. Constant communication and over-the-shoulder interference by distant masters causes more than a few neonates to seek a more egalitarian society.

The Ordo Dracul and the Nelapsi have ties stemming from mutual geography, but the transmutative practices of the covenant have a limited benefit to the bloodline. Nelapsi have a cordial relationship with the Order, but rarely work their way up its ranks or delve into its affairs. There’s just not enough reward for the Gluttons, compared to the gains that other Kindred make. Young Nelapsi can try to honor the tenets of the Ordo for several years, but often give up in frustration when the Coils of the Dragon cannot slake their thirst.

The Circle of the Crone doesn’t overtly recruit Nelapsi, who for their part usually consider the covenant archaic and absorbed in ridiculous pagan idolatry. Nelapsi with memories of the pre-Christian days of eastern Europe are the most likely to deal with Acolytes, but even they consider the covenant needlessly brutal and steeped in self-mortification. The Circle’s magic, for all that it works with blood, does little good for the Nelapsi, whose hunger costs them too much Vitae to waste any. Some members of the Circle believe that the lineage’s feeding problem has metaphysical significance, but are split on its meaning. Some say the Nelapsi should consider it another challenge of vampirism to overcome and thus treat it as a valuable lesson. Others argue that the line’s hunger simply wastes precious blood, and is evidence that the Nelapsi are little more than sieves who should be destroyed for the sake of preserving the herd.

The Lancea Sanctum often views the Nelapsi as frivolous tricksters and troublemakers, but does not overtly turn them away. After all, God’s righteous judgment afflicts all Kindred, and all should bow to His grace. Nelapsi who lived during the religious Middle Ages and early Renaissance tend to gravitate toward the Spear, finding the message of penance and holy retribution appealing in light of their curse. Sanctified Gluttons consider their condition a double curse. One erudite Nelapsi claims that every member of the bloodline houses a demonic soul as well as a former human one, and that the lineage’s thirst is a burden handed down by God to scourge the demonic soul for its pride in coming to Earth. Young Nelapsi tend to scoff at these fables, but the unusual Devotions common to the line lend at some credence to such claims.

Appearance: Like the Daeva stock from which they come, the Nelapsi often have a refined, genteel bearing. To better avoid notice among their prey, Gluttons tend to suffuse themselves with Vitae in order to maintain the appearance of mortality. After all, since they have to acquire large amounts of blood to survive, a little bit more won’t hurt when it helps them blend in. Eastern European styles of apparel are most common, with old members wearing finery reminiscent of ancient nobility. More recent arrivals appear in anything from tailcoats to the faded jeans that sell so well in former Soviet Bloc countries. Jewelry, especially silver, is a staple of Nelapsi wardrobe. Abstract or pattern designs predominate, and sires are quick to dictate appropriate choices to childer who seek to style themselves in garish or “low-class” garb.

Haven: Many Nelapsi relish their immortality and surround themselves with art, fine furnishings and sumptuous apparel. Security is always a concern, of course, but so is comfort. Perhaps because they’re used to being feared by mortals, Nelapsi tend to feel that they deserve a fine existence. Line members have a tendency to adapt the places where they lived as mortals, turning them into acceptable havens. This trend stems from their old habit of remaining cloistered away in a familiar area where they can hunt with relative safety, away from other Kindred. Poor neighborhoods rank low on their list of possible haven locales, despite the presence of humans who won’t be missed, because Gluttons tend to have an aversion to “slumming.”

To avoid running into other Kindred, Nelapsi pick an odd assortment of havens. Some find comfort in isolated communities, especially areas where residents are suspicious of outsiders. With their Majesty powers, Gluttons can easily make themselves fit the “accepted though eccentric neighbor” stereotype. These parasites slowly sink their influence into local families through a stick-and-carrot combination of Majesty and Nightmare, causing people to fear change and the outside world while simultaneously making themselves out to be a comforting, familiar (if cold) presence. A few Nelapsi, as befits the quirky nature of the lineage, take up residence in abandoned places where their Nightmare powers can make full use of the surroundings. That includes haunted manors, decaying amusement parks and old, worn-down or abandoned strip malls. They cause outsiders to shun such places as haunted (or at least unwholesome), while they cruise nearby neighborhoods for prey, sometimes even setting up local groups of ghouls who reside in these same decrepit pits to intensify to the unwholesome décor.

Nelapsi familiar with modern business are extremely likely to finance or otherwise have a hand in any local Rack, both for personal use and to watch for potential competitors.

Background: Nelapsi take care to Embrace individuals who show enough raw ingenuity in life to turn that innovation to the problem of excessive feeding. Even then, the Embrace is rare. Too many gluttonous vampires around is simply too dangerous for all. Those chosen therefore possess high social acumen and similarly high intelligence. All the better to be creative and to be able to match wits with belligerent vampires. Or so it goes in theory. In practice, the challenges that Nelapsi sires face are passed down to their progeny. The oldest tend toward various obsessive neuroses, and pick would-be childer with similar quirks. The tight bond of training between sire and childe means that many elders pass on their peculiarities, habits, mannerisms and prejudices. This inheritance puts pressure on new Nelapsi to conform to the line’s long-held curiosities. Indeed, some Gluttons don’t even realize that their fears of “magic herbs” or their terror of being nailed into their coffins are purely psychological, not mystical.

Old Nelapsi come almost exclusively from Slavic stock. The lineage branched out only in the 19th century, so non-Europeans are rare.

Character Creation: As a Daeva bloodline, Nelapsi usually have high Social Attributes and Skills. Some cling to attachments with mortals they knew in life in order to find shelter from the abuses they inflict. Others rely on sophistication to convince mortals that they couldn’t possibly be the root of local troubles and fears. Wits is prized by the breed, while Resolve tends to lag, if only because line members don’t bother fighting their bloodlust after a few years. Physical Attributes and Skills aren’t very important to most Gluttons, who rely on their powers of misdirection and preternatural speed and might to carry them through.

Members tend manifest supernatural oddities, even for Kindred. Legends tell of a vulnerability to blessed herbs or an inability to cross a line of poppy seeds. Such foibles of the psyche are not isolated; Nelapsi sires tend to reinforce their own psychoses in their childer. (A derangement could be taken as a Mental Flaw at character creation, or mental ailments acquired in play could reinforce existing peculiarities.) Merits usually focus on Resources, a secure Haven with a good location, and a large Herd. Recently Embraced members tend toward influence and meddling in mortal affairs, so Contacts, Allies and Retainers are helpful. Status is less important to Nelapsi than it is to other Kindred, although they certainly scrutinize members of their own narrow lineage.

Organization: For a bloodline that strains feeding capacity and relies on tricks and illusions, the Nelapsi have a curiously rigorous hierarchy. That may stem from the fact that creation of new members is rare. Any Glutton potent enough to create others is unlikely to want competition for blood, so he seeks standing by presiding over his lessers rather than actually creating them. As a result, the Nelapsi didn’t expand from Czechoslovakia until the 19th century, when the introduction of railroads and ironclads made long-range travel feasible. Even with such transportation, though, rumors of Gluttons rarely surface outside of eastern Europe. While it’s possible that Nelapsi have gone anywhere in the modern world, it seems unlikely. There’s little incentive to travel outside one’s domain and risk insufficient blood, insufficient security and insufficient space to avoid other Kindred. The founder of the line presumably still resides in the Zemplin region. His brood has spread, but they typically remain in contact through letters or occasional telephone conversations, sharing information about their travels.

Nelapsi sires realize that they will be blamed if a line member imposes too much strain on an area’s blood supply, so they take pains to ensure that lessers are cautious and astute. That means frequent check-ups in twisted parent-child relationships, with all the turmoil that one would expect from an archaic parent trying to control an undying child who’s already left home and grown up. Yet, frequent contact does help the Nelapsi avoid some trouble. They address their own before other vampires do, and Gluttons use their information network to alert kin to tyrannical Princes, trouble spots or blood hunts that could be problematic for all.

Concepts: Club owner, charlatan, corporate financier, eccentric millionaire, Old World noble, prestidigitator, socialite

History
Oral reports of the Nelapsi date back to the 12th century, and if the bloodline stretches back past that, any prior activities are unknown. The reclusive founder, likely responsible for many early legends of his brood (also called upir) in Czechoslovakia, is presumed to be in torpor. The last reliable reports of contact between he and his childer ended in the 17th century.

Before the advent of modern transportation, the Nelapsi were little more than a curiosity. Less than a dozen existed, and all confined to eastern Europe. The line has not increased much in number even with the advent of rail and air travel. Sightings and stories pop up every few decades in distant cities, but it’s hard for members to see the benefit of leaving behind their caches of blood, useful contacts and well-established herds. Since the Nelapsi spend a great deal of time in torpor as well, they are generally less mobile and less accustomed to changing technology than even other Kindred.

Although the Nelapsi scrupulously keep track of their own kind, reports of the bloodline’s malcontents and rising stars are plagued by the fact that any Glutton of reasonable Blood Potency is at high risk of disappearing into torpor. The threat of excessive thirst drives some into self-imposed slumber, if only to escape the possibility of Vitae addiction. Others struggle on and simply cannot remain active from night to night. Such trends make Nelapsi hauntings cyclical. A Glutton rises from torpor, preys upon an area and a disproportionately large number of victim, returns to torpor and the whole matter is pushed aside until it happens again.

Society and Culture
The Nelapsi have a fairly rigid structure of sire mentorship and childe responsibility. Every one recognizes that an untutored line member could have disastrous feeding habits, so customs of indoctrination are strongly ingrained. Nelapsi use the term predek (“predecessor” or “ancestor”) to refer to sires, and the young are called operit (“fledges”) until they demonstrate capability with the Nightmare Discipline (until they gain three dots in it).

Since Gluttons face dire problems if their hunting grounds overlap, they consider the Second Tradition the most important of the three. Nelapsi almost never Embrace out of spur-of-the-moment passion. If they do, they often destroy the hapless childer. Each Glutton holds to a sort of “extended accounting” by which she considers the actions of any childe or grandchilde to reflect upon her. Since it’s presumed that no sire would be so rash as to leave an uneducated operit and thereby risk the reputation of the line, any mistake by a childe invariably reflects ill upon his creator(s). Failure to blend into society and to follow the Traditions haunts a Nelapsi forever, but also leaves a permanent stain on the reputation of his progenitors. For this reason, Clan Status is extremely important to Nelapsi. Gluttons pay close attention to troublemakers, and spread rumors of poor behavior through their correspondence network.

Daeva outsiders who for some inexplicable reason attune themselves to Nelapsi blood have a difficult time finding acceptance. The responsibilities of a cautious predator, old Nelapsi proclaim, are far too important for an untutored Daeva to risk the whole bloodline with his clumsy flailing. A Nelapsi ope ́rit who runs into another Glutton of no apparent traceable lineage is almost certain to send a message about the individual back to his sire. Similarly, a Nelapsi elder is likely to confront an unknown line member to make sure the stranger understands the risks inherent to his “condition.” Such a confrontation is unlikely to be physical. The elder probably sends agents or possibly even an operit to intervene and set the matter straight. A Daeva Kindred who aligns himself to the lineage for some unfathomable personal reason had best be prepared to face a host of suspicious investigations, feints from ghouls testing defenses, and runins with “natural born” Nelapsi who make certain that the newcomer won’t bring ruin upon them all.

Devotions
The Nelapsi lineage does not have a signature Discipline of its own, but does manifest several unusual Devotions. These powers accentuate rumors of line members’ haunting capabilities, and offer several tricks that help to overcome the brood’s inherent challenges. Gluttons do not teach these Devotions to outsiders. It’s more rewarding to demonstrate a few powers here and there and let others speculate about the range of strange capabilities at a line member’s disposal.

The Nepheshim are a bloodline of Kindred fully immersed in the Lancea et Sanctum’s Mendicant faction. Their existence as a distinct bloodline and their unique discipline, Nahdad, remain a secret even from the rest of the covenant.

Mendicants, who are also sometimes called Nepheshim generically, take a series of oaths reinforced by a supernaturally-charged Vinculum: they do not stay in one place more than a lunar month, they do not keep a Haven, they dwell in isolated places, they never feed to satiety and they are forbidden to dwell in comfort when hardship is an option. The Nepheshim bloodline find that these vows are in their blood from the moment of their Embrace, with no need for a Vinculum. In addition, they have mastered important survival skills in the form of Nahdad, which they believe only Mendicants are entitled to learn.

The Nepheshim are a relatively young bloodline, and poorly documented, due to their desire for secrecy. Like other Nepheshim, they suffer from difficulties with social skills due to their lifestyle and long periods of isolation.

Nepheshim as Bloodline

While the Nepheshim are primarily known as a faction, recent centuries suggest they may have spawned a bloodline, as well. Some Gangrel Nepheshim whose sires were also wandering Mendicants have found they have the ability to change their blood. The strongest-willed of these can also muster supernatural powers of survival from a Discipline, being called Nahdad (if it actually exists), that these Nepheshim have been quietly exploring to ease the hardships of travel. For those Kindred of the new bloodline, this is a powerful transitional moment in their history — and one they’re keeping to themselves. Not even other Kindred in the faction may realize what’s taking place.

The only thing that has kept these Hungry Ones from openly claiming bloodline status already is a desire to keep the Discipline of Nahdad a secret. To their way of thinking, knowledge of Nahdad is only meant for those who suffer the cold, the hunger and the scratch of thorns in their nightly pilgrimage: the most honored and respected of the Nepheshim. For now, the Kindred of the Nepheshim bloodline seem perfectly content to blend in with the rest of the faction.

In every culture and region in the world there are stories of cannibalism. Horror stories of survival on the edge of starvation and monsters that hunt and eat the flesh of men. The Kindred have cannibal tales of their own: whispered rumors of the dread Noctuku, Nosferatu who take pleasure in hunting their Kindred cousins and eating the dead flesh that hangs from their bones.

These stories are passed along with the same excitement and fear as an urban legend or a ghost story — tales told of Noctuku dwelling on the edges of a city, waiting for Kindred to stray too far from the shelter of the Prince’s law. Kindred in larger domains scoff at mentions of the Noctuku, taking them to be rumors fueled by fearful neonates or worse, a competitor’s attempts to hide her crimes behind an old ghost story. Those who reside closer to the hidden haven of a Noctuku live in fear of the dark, for the Noctuku are very real.

Myth and rumor surround the Noctuku. It is believed that they may have existed long before the advent of the covenants, and that they may not be a bloodline at all; tales are told of Nosferatu who have spontaneously exhibited the hunger of the Noctuku following the diablerie of another. What is known is that many Nosferatu fear that they, too, will feel the pull of the Noctuku within their veins. Whether there is truth in these words, or merely more fairy tales told to scare young Nosferatu away from violating the Third Tradition is unknown. However, there have never been any reliable records of the founder of this bloodline, and the stories of the Noctuku are remembered by elders who have existed for centuries. Indeed, Kindred on many continents share tales of the cannibalistic Noctuku bogeymen who stalk the night; however, no single domain claims that they hold the origins of this strange and barbaric bloodline.

Any vampire who identifies herself as Noctuku is sure to face severe difficulties in Kindred society. The act of consuming the flesh of vampires is seen as tantamount to that of diablerie — the temptation to consume the soul along with the body too great a risk. Cannibalism is just as much a taboo among vampires as in mortal society, and predators do not like the feeling of being hunted any more than mortals do. Most Kindred react violently when presented with the reality of the Noctuku.

The Noctuku themselves are perfectly comfortable with violent response. In their eyes, they are the apex predator — the elite among a killing race, capable of hunting and destroying hapless mortals and experienced vampires alike. In fact, the more powerful their Kindred opponent, the more likely that Noctuku will engage in the hunt with enthusiasm, savoring the challenge of the kill. Some encroach upon established vampire domains, knowing full well that doing so will draw conflict from their own kind. They chew a hole through reputable Kindred Courts, clashing with the agents of Princes with gleeful abandon.

Younger Noctuku — those who have yet to lose themselves to the cannibalistic hunger of the line — argue that all Kindred hunt their own when they consume the blood of mortals. The Noctuku believe that the Noctuku represent the pinnacle of all predators, feeding from Kindred just as ordinary Kindred hunt mortals — for survival, for power and for sport.

Covenant:
The Noctuku find roles within the covenants that allow them to practice their taboo discipline and feed without the threat of a death sentence. The Circle of the Crone seems to appeal to the Noctuku the most; with its arcane practices, rituals and belief that it is are above mortal taboos, the covenant is in many ways the only one that will accept the bloodline for everything that it is. In isolated domains, the Circle of the Crone has come to venerate the Noctuku for their unique ability to survive in even the harshest terrain, an example of their true communion with nature and their role as the top predators.

Those few Noctuku who join or remain in the Invictus following their bloody admission into this bloodline find their perverse hunger a liability that they must hide from their more delicate cousins. Concealing their cannibalistic tendencies behind a veneer of civility eventually grates on them, especially when surrounded by so many sources of Vitae-infused flesh on a nightly basis. Only the strict rigid structure of etiquette gives any of the Invictus Noctuku hope of maintaining humanity, giving them a crutch to lean on when the hunger calls.

While the promise of transcending the vampire condition appeals to a few Noctuku, the scholarly approach of the Ordo Dracul is foreign to the majority of Bogeymen. Most members of the covenant will not tolerate these violent and predatory Kindred, and few Noctuku manage to retain membership for long. Furthermore, the records of the Ordo Dracul in several cities warn against fraternizing with members of this line, alluding to incidences of uncontrollable violence and diablerie within the walls of academies foolish enough or hopeful enough to admit these monsters.

The Lancea Sanctum faces a unique dichotomy when the truth of a Noctuku is revealed — while the Sanctified praise the role of the ultimate predator, they decry the evils of diablerie and believe that the practices of the Noctuku will lead to greater sin. Thus, few members of the line openly join the Lancea Sanctum for fear of becoming a lightning rod for the pulpits of all manner of Kindred gospel.

Noctuku are also rare among the Carthians, as the Noctuku’s perverse diet tends to alienate the very bonds that the Carthians seek to foster with other Kindred. The Carthians may simply express their pity for the Noctuku’s plight and move on into the night or, worse, attempt to destroy any they encounter to satisfy their sense of justice.

Appearance:
Noctuku dress in comfortable clothing, usually only a few months or years off the standard fashion for the mortals in their domains. Many Noctuku differ little physically from their Nosferatu cousins, which allows for an easier hunt. Only with time does the difference begin to display itself: Noctuku often appear slightly more gaunt and pale than other Nosferatu, and as the Noctuku age, they make little effort to appear lifelike, taking on the pallor of a walking corpse.

Haven:
Residing in domains worldwide, from the edges of great cities to the rural wastes beset by competing horrors, the Noctuku are a hardy line, finding purchase in any nook that can protect them from the sun and allow them to stalk their prey. Lone Noctuku take up functional havens in out-of-the-way locations that will not raise suspicion, yet still allow them to be close enough to the mortal and Kindred populations to hunt with ease. Places such as animal slaughterhouses and butcher shops tend to mask the special diet that the Noctuku indulge in. Many of the havens of the Noctuku are eventually piled with the flesh and bones of their victims. Some are ghoulishly decorated with these remains, arranged with perverse tableaux of torn limbs and skeletal fragments.

Those Noctuku who remain part of Kindred society tend to live in small havens with only the basic amenities. Not the types to crave lavish surroundings, most Noctuku seek out the most basic aspects of what they need to survive their Requiems, focusing on safety and mobility over comfort.

When Noctuku form family coteries called “clutches,” they build functional havens similar to their more solitary brothers and sisters, with separate sleeping areas for their acolytes that commonly feature reinforced doors and locks on the outside so that the eldest among them can then secure them to prevent any accidental attacks against other Noctuku.

Background:
Most Noctuku are made of converts from their parent clan, those Nosferatu who are either drawn by the promise of secrets best left unrevealed or by necessity when they are driven from the luxury of the city. Due to the hunger that consumes them, many Noctuku who do Embrace from mortal stock choose those who can stomach the mental and spiritual stresses that the Kindred of the line must endure nightly. Living on the edge of Kindred and mortal society, Noctuku choose only those who are used to surviving under the roughest of conditions. In some of the more remote regions of the world, where there is also a mortal history of the Noctuku’s practices, they tend to Embrace from the strongest and fittest, creating warriors who then safeguard their mortal cousins from outsiders.

A Nosferatu rarely petitions a Noctuku to join the line; rather, a Noctuku Avus will select a Nosferatu whom the Noctuku feel has the mental and spiritual fortitude to survive the hunger and then go about slowly destroying any ties and connections that the Nosferatu enjoys. Newly adoptive Noctuku choose solitary Requiems out of a sense of necessity, usually because they have yet to truly accept their darker natures and embrace the true Beast within them. When Noctuku choose to live solitary lifestyles, they tend to either take to the road as nomads or push themselves to the very edge of civilization. Any place that harbors mortal souls could harbor Noctuku who lie in wait for the next unsuspecting victim to fall to their noire appetite.

Character Creation:
With their need to survive in some of the most inhospitable terrain for Kindred around the world, the Noctuku tend to favor Physical Attributes over all else. Noctuku find little need for Social Attributes beyond simple Intimidation, and the most successful practitioners of Phagia have respectable levels of Strength and Stamina along with a strong background in Survival, Larceny and Medicine.

Individual Noctuku vary in their skill and knowledge base, with some even reveling in their roles as Bogeymen and specializing in Nightmare as well as Phagia. Noctuku will sometimes keep a Retainer, usually a member of society so debased or corrupted that he willingly feeds the Noctuku’s perverse hunger. The Noctuku rarely have Allies or Contacts, and almost never keep up communication with mortals at all.

A clutch of Noctuku tends to pool its resources to benefit all, which usually means that the eldest benefits from the younger members’ hard work. Shared havens are common and even recommended with clutches, so that the bloodline elders can watch over their adoptive childer like wardens.

Organization:
Most Noctuku eventually become solitary monsters, keeping to themselves out of necessity. When they do gather in any numbers larger than sire and childe or Avus and Acolyte, they tend to bow to the eldest and most powerful among them, generally adopting subservient mannerisms to prevent unwanted attacks. In the small clutches of Noctuku that share the hunt, the organization is similar: graduating respect paid to those with more power and experience. The clutches tend to keep a tightly knit community, and many Noctuku who feel the need for social ties without having to hide their depravity flock to them.

In most domains, the gatherings of Noctuku are subject to the simple philosophies of competitive survival and domination through strength. When a new Nosferatu is brought into a clutch, she endures weeks or months of physical trial, either proving herself worthy of the Blood or falling to the gnashing teeth of her compatriots.

Concepts: Hungry drifter, corrupt mortician, Embraced bushman, rural parish priest, freak show monster, serial killer, creepy cab driver, underground doctor, pathetic loner, blood-crusted trucker, and depraved cult leader.

Some bloodlines are a matter of honor; others are a matter of shame. Outsiders who know of the Norvegi think them a reproach upon the Kindred, a deformity. The elders of some of the covenants permit them to endure, and if they grudgingly admit the efficiency with which they make other Kindred vanish and clear up messes, they cannot accept the “Norwegian bloodline” as whole Kindred. For they have no fangs. They seem to have no problem finding blood and rarely leave a mess. But if no one pays attention to this strange efficiency, it’s because they think the Norvegi to be beneath their notice.

Among elders of the five great Covenants, it’s received wisdom that a Norvegus or Norvega is a waste of dead flesh, and so prevalent is this idea that few of those wise, far-seeing elders ask if that’s the case; they don’t question why the bloodline is still thriving, more numerous in this over-populated age than it has ever been. The dead have always struggled among themselves for resources – surely, weaklings like the Norvegi would have died out long ago?

The fact is, they’ve found a niche. They do dirty jobs, cheaply and efficiently. Why should an elder ask how all the blood gets so efficiently cleaned away, or how brutally his enemy was dismembered? His only interest lies in the act itself.

And this is their second secret: they may be devoid of fangs, but they have other means of gaining blood. Long ago, they found the secret of warping Vitae and bone. They have the ability to grow, instantly and silently, hollow spikes and plates of blood and bone from their very flesh, extending and withdrawing them at will, if only they have the Vitae to spare.

A vampire who underestimates a Norvega finds a pointing fingertip extending in a split-second into a long spike that skewers his eyeball and enters his forebrain. Another turns his back to see a blood-and-bone blade extending through his body. Another thinks he’s got the Norvega assassin sent to destroy him cornered, only to find her transformed into a bristling, thorn-bedecked monster.

The Norvegi, by tradition, keep their trump card hidden. One of the Kindred who sees a Norvegus using his power is likely to be either trusted entirely, or about to be dead forever. They bide their time and strike unexpectedly. They know that other vampires are faster and stronger, and prefer to use their powers of clairvoyance to gain an advantage. The Norvegi allow themselves to be underestimated, knowing that in being beneath notice comes safety, of a sort.

Nickname: “Knives” among themselves; to elders “the Norwegian bloodline,” and to other outsiders “Scum,” “Filth,” and things less printable.

History and Culture: Sometime in the Middle Ages, the idea arose among the Kindred of Europe that the vampires of the North, members of the alleged Clan Grettir, were in-bred. Tales circulated of a web of Vinculi, and that a tradition of cross-generational diablerie and a dependence on ghouls had weakened them. Although they drank the vibrant blood of the Norse peoples of the age, and brought their own living family members into the fold after death, their deficient blood had taken away their fangs.

Among the bloodlines of the North, they were outcast. They carved out a niche as criminals among the dead. They were killers and thieves. The Renaissance came, and the Age of Reason followed, and the Norvegi gradually spread south, receiving the same prejudice and taking the same jobs, and so it is tonight. Many domains across Britain, Germany, the Baltic states, the former USSR and the northern parts of North America have small families of Norvegi. The members of the bloodline manipulate their living families, and at least one ghoul family depends upon Norvegi blood. Many Norvegi make their havens with their living (ghoul) families, and more than half of the Norvegi active in Europe and North America tonight were their sires’ ghouls before they were Embraced, enslaved by the bonds of Vinculi long before they died. And yet, the relationship between sire and childe is not so simple; the tradition of the Norvegi has it that the Elder of the Norvegi allow themselves to be diablerized – painfully, messily – by their childer before old age forces them into torpor, presumably so that their memories remain, rather than be washed away by the Fog of Ages.

A Norvega named Astrid served until recently as the secret assassin of the Lady of London, not caring that the Lady will not acknowledge her publicly, but glad to be left alone when not working. Her disappearance went largely unnoticed. An old, powerful Norvegus operates in the New York Subway system as a kind of unofficial marshal. He preys upon and protects the homeless at the same time, as if farming them for his own personal use. Thanks to his vile-smelling ghouls, he knows everything that goes on underground within a matter of hours, or sometimes minutes. A pair of Norvegi in Anchorage, banned from Kindred society for simply being “less than vampires,” has been taking down the Prince’s brood one by one.

Reputation: This is the paradox of the Norvegi’s reputation: the Covenants find them beneath their notice, and yet they consider the Norvegi the vampires to hire when something needs to be stolen or someone must be killed forever. The Norvega names her price, freely, and if the paymaster refuses to haggle, she shrugs and walks away. She is not worth talking to and is thrust to the margins of the Kindred night-society, and yet her discretion is expected and her ability to do the job is not in question.

The Kindred know that the Norvegi keep whole stables of ghouls, but leave them to it. The Invictus and the Acolytes will tell you that they’re no threat, that they’re not worth bothering with. The Ordo Dracul don’t even consider them to be Kindred, imagining them to be some sort of mutant sub-vampire and regarding them with mild curiosity before moving on to some more interesting topic of study. The Carthians, who bother, say that they’re not really the proletariat of the Kindred, but some other, less developed group, less suited for revolution. And the Lancea Sanctum consider them damned and immaterial. Sure, a Norvegus can join, but he won’t rise very far before prejudice rears its head.

Most vampires haunt cities, making the urban landscape their hunting grounds. Few are willing to dwell outside metropolitan areas. Not only are the dangers abroad unseen and untold, but the feeding is meager.

The vampires of the Oberloch bloodline purposefully choose to stay away from cities and suburban sprawls. This choice is made partly out of ignorance (only a few Oberloch kin are even aware that other vampires exist, let alone in cities), but it’s also a strategic choice. The “Brood” opts to spend the Requiem in towns far from city lights, existing only in small burgs and hamlets many miles from any highway. They’re self-made rulers of these places, for such rural towns provide wide-open territory and self-contained fiefdoms.

The Oberlochs began as a bloodline in the most literal of senses, as an actual mortal family. The human clan, running a successful coal-mining company in Pennsylvania, grew wealthy on the blood and suffering of immigrant laborers. The workers had their revenge in 1869, forming a mob and murdering some of the family after dragging members down into the mines. The rioters, shepherded into fury by a Gangrel vampire, unknowingly left a few Oberlochs clinging to life. The Savage decided to “test” the family’s survival skills by Embracing the survivors. He didn’t stay around to shepherd his childer through those first nights. Left with little understanding of the curse levied upon them, the remaining family were forced to endure.

And they did. The undead clan not only grew, but its blood changed in subtle ways, deviating from that which created it. The vampiric Oberlochs continued to consider themselves a family. Indeed, they did so obsessively. They believed that the blood that sustained them, while technically dead, still carried their lineage, regardless of its bodily origin. They sired more “members of the family,” gathering runaways and castoffs, and brought those chosen mortals into the unliving fold of the Brood. By selecting miscreants and outcasts with cruel, tough demeanors, the bloodline grew slowly but constantly. The family couldn’t remain local, though. Wanderlust combined with growing numbers forced some from their original home and out to the dark corners of rural America.

Now, the growing Oberloch family lives at the edges of civilization in small towns just far enough from big cities, watching private herds with a protective, ravenous eye.

Covenant: This bloodline is largely hidden and ignorant of vampire society outside its own grim, backwoods niche. Categorically speaking, the lineage is almost universally unaligned. A rare number of Oberlochs have purposefully escaped the family’s clutches, fleeing to parts where they can’t be found or won’t be sought. Such fugitives are any covenant’s game, often hiding anonymously among the ranks of whatever group seems the most capable of sheltering them.

Appearance: Family members are almost exclusively Caucasian. The Oberlochs, originally of Swiss blood, generally reject the concept that someone from another race can truly share their lineage, even through the Embrace. The family has a few members of “color,” but only because those mortals seemed exceptionally suited to the clan and its ways. Oberlochs tend to dress in whatever clothes they pilfer from whatever wayward travelers mistakenly come through their small towns. The family favors modest dress, rejecting fancy clothes as a mark of self-importance and frivolity (essentially, “the city”). Their garments tend to become dirty and tattered over time.

Haven: When the family moves into a new town, spreading its influence, members start off by securing the biggest house around, whether it’s a crumbling mansion, an old farmhouse or a doublewide trailer. The oc- cupants are killed, Embraced or made the first members of the herd. Initially, all family members present dwell in this single location. As time passes, however, young Oberlochs may move out to small satellite homes in the immediate area. Should any overcrowding occur, some lesser family members may leave the sanctity of home to move on to another small town.
Background: The family has no interest in growing bigger than its britches, so to speak. Embracing new kin is allowed only when approved by the Grandmother or Grandfather of a given territory. Each family member is expected to Embrace at least one other at some point in his Requiem, however. Fostering new children is the only way the family remains strong.

These vampires Embrace only those suitable to carry the Oberloch name. Candidacy typically requires an individual to be tough as nails, a true survivor. The Oberlochs also choose those with few connections to the wider world. In other words, so no friends, family or law enforcement comes knocking. Prospective childer are often town members (spinsters, hermits or single mothers) with few temporal connections. Yet, some of the Brood like to Embrace from those who come from outside of town, such as runaways, wayward vacationers or hitchhikers. The Oberlochs verify the aptitude of a future family member through a variety of homespun tests. Such rites are often made up on the spot, but involve survival-based challenges. (A mortal may be kidnapped and left in the middle of a forest, for example, or be set on by a pack of starving dogs.)

Character Creation: Oberlochs value family members of keen mind and strong body. Either Physical or Mental Attributes are dominant. Social Attributes fall by the wayside as the Oberlochs feel that social graces are a needless luxury that don’t apply to them. As rural predators, what does it matter if you say “Please,” or “Thank you,” or know which goddamn spoon is the proper one for soup? What matters is a sharp eye, a hunter’s instinct and a strong back.

The family prides itself on choosing “kin” with prominent Physical Skills, as well (Athletics, Brawl and Survival being chief among them). A handful of other Skills are also seen as indications of “good breeding,” such as Animal Ken, Intimidation, Crafts and Subterfuge.

The most prized Merit among the Oberlochs is Haven. Most family units pool dots in the Merit to equate whatever large shelter is taken over and occupied.

Organization: Oberlochs organize somewhat like a mortal family. “Parents” hold authority over their childer, and their own sires hold authority over them. All members in a given territory are beholden to the rule of the single oldest predecessor (always referred to as “Grandmother” or “Grandfather”). Beyond that, the only authority figure is (according to some family members) a myth. Family legend holds that one of the original progenitors still lives in the coal-saddled hills of upstate Pennsylvania. This matriarch, the Oberloch known only as “Old Alice,” is said to send her own childer out from time to time to “check up on” family members in the wide world. Her legend mainly makes for a boogey man story told to keep young kin in line, but enough evidence of family condition, structure and tradition suggests that the story could be true.

Concepts: Teen runaway, town mayor, lost traveler, unsuspecting vacationer, store owner, park ranger, hillfolk, deer hunter, miner, hermit

History
In the 19th century, coal mining was a reliable — and deadly — profession for men in places like Pennsylvania, Ohio and West Virginia. Miners (typically immigrants) were subject to constant risk while ferreting out anthracite coal deep in the earth. Mines could collapse, gases could suffocate or burn workers, and as if the chance for instantaneous death wasn’t enough, the long-term hazards of black lung made the career terminal. Thousands upon thousands died mining black-diamond veins, perishing from unmitigated dangers.

And yet, conditions above ground were as bad as those below, but in this case the danger was to a man’s coffers. A miner in a given town was subject to the whims of his employer, a so-called “coal baron,” who owned and operated the company. Initially, pay for a miner was based on how much coal he was able to bring to the surface, and that compensation did little more than keep he and his family afloat. Coal barons realized, however, that their own families could gain far more if they exploited their workers even further.

Barons — already the owners of coal-town markets and stores — decided on a system of economy that bypassed the federal dollar. They established markers or “chits” that served as payment to miners. These chits were good only at marketplaces owned by the barons. And while chits were valued at roughly the same as a dollar, prices in stores were elevated unreasonably. Miners were paid the same, but in limited funds, and costs skyrocketed.

The Oberloch family, of Swiss-German descent, arrived in America in the early 1800s. While most immigrants who weren’t English or Welsh were relegated to gutter jobs (such as coal mining), the Oberlochs were fortunate enough to bring much of their family wealth with them. Within two decades, the family (changing its name to the more American “Overlock”) was owner of its own industry. In 1826, the A.A. Overlock & Brothers Mining Company was founded under coal baron Alfred Alexander Overlock and his wife Alice.

Blood and Black Dust
The immigrants — mostly Irish and some Polish — who worked for the Overlock family struggled to keep their own loved ones fed. The chit system destroyed their livelihoods above ground, while the hazardous conditions of the job murdered them below ground. Still, few immigrants entertained the idea of revolt. It meant a complete loss of income (and thus food and shelter). Meager earnings were better than none, and with an ever-growing population of migrants ready to replace the dead or dismissed, most miners settled into the futility of their situation.

That is, until Bartholomew Ahern came along. Ahern, a Gangrel vampire, kept watch on his mortal family from the forests surrounding the Pennsylvania hills. He checked up on his mortal kin every few years, who had had come to work for the Overlock company, and their living conditions were deplorable. They were practically starving, and two brothers had died (along with 75 others) in a subterranean explosion. The Overlocks did nothing to compensate the families, and went so far as to fire the men who were only injured in the accident. Ahern recognized the greed and exploitation at work, and chose a path of brutal vengeance. Over a period of weeks, the Gangrel organized many of the émigré miners, stirring their emotions into a grim frenzy. Such agitation soon erupted and the workers revolted.

They stormed the Overlock mansion — the biggest on Millionaire’s Row — and kidnapped the family members. The mob, lead by a feral Ahern, dragged the Overlocks into the mines. The family men were beaten, cut, stabbed and dragged across jagged outcroppings of black rock. The women were raped. The children were whipped with axe handles. All were left for dead.

The eldest Overlock brothers, Gerard and Jacob, died from contusions to the skull. Alfred’s sister Katrina and son Theodore both died from multiple wounds. An elderly uncle, Konrad, suffered a fatal heart attack, although that didn’t stop the mob from breaking his body.

There were unexpected survivors, however. Patriarch Alfred lived, as did his wife, Alice. Their 14-year-old daughter, Sophie, also managed to survive. All barely clung to life and might have passed yet if not for the further intervention of Bartholomew Ahern. The vampire, surprised that the parasites could weather such horrific treatment, decided to visit the curse of the Requiem upon them. He thus expended a great deal of his own power to extend his vengeance on a permanent level. He left the remaining Overlocks, alone and starving, to their own devices and suffering.

Princes to Paupers
The three surviving family members were not shepherded into their condition. They were given no instruction, no clue as to what had befallen them. Left to their own survival, they learned lessons the hard way. No sunlight. Blood for food. Mad, unquenchable urges. They could not return home. After the revolt, the mansions of Millionaire’s Row were burned to the ground. No one would accept or help them. Seeing no other choice, they fled under the cover of night.

The next 20 years passed in a hungry blur. The three vampires — only partly cognizant that they were blautsauger at all — stayed to the edges of existence, traveling from town to town and farm to farm. They fed on livestock or any unfortunate individual who stumbled too far from the mortal herd. They stole clothing, slept in abandoned houses and kept to less-traveled roads. Few of the mortals they encountered were allowed to live. When they were, the family went by the old name Oberloch, to avoid being identified and to paint themselves as destitute immigrants.

Paupers to Predators
It was not patriarch Alfred who worried over his family’s condition. He seemed curiously content to remain at the margins of human existence, numbly feeding off pack animals and wayward victims. It was wife Alice who shook clear of her bloodthirsty fog after almost three decades. She began to see the truth of the family condition, recognizing just how far they had fallen. At that point she had some comprehension of their abilities and curse, and wondered if they could do more. Didn’t their curse afford them some benefit? They were once the royalty of a small but comfortable castle. Could become such again?

Alice decided that sleeping in mud and dirt (or at best, in the husk of a burned-out barn) did not suit her clan. With that decision, she marched into the nearest town, a place called Harmony that boasted less than a 100 citizens. Now, like before, she saw the townsfolk for what they were — resources. Except now they were not beings who could be exploited for money. They were bags of fat and muscle who could be exploited for their blood, and with blood came strength. Alice found great delight in doing what she wanted, when she wanted; her family could exist like kings again. But she also saw the potential for even more freedom than before. Alice felt that her family was still human to a point, only without any need for morality or mortal law. She saw the town of Harmony as the first stop on the road to reclaiming her family’s wealth and power.

Family Legacy
After a couple decades spent in Harmony, Alice could see what was happening to her. She was growing old. The effect was barely noticeable to others, but the faint stench of entropy wafted from her flesh and bones. Her hair lost some of its luster. The skin around her eyes tightened.

Alice felt revulsion at the notion. If her loved ones still aged, were they truly immortal? Or were their lives only extended, their days multiplied until an ineluctable death? The family couldn’t be allowed to suffer such a fate. Time could still destroy them, it seemed, and so she set them to breeding.

Of course, “breeding” involved the Embrace and bringing chosen humans into the fold. The first adopted Oberlochs were selected for their hardiness of body and cruelty of intention. Unfortunately, extending the family came with the unanticipated consequence of the clan growing too big for its tiny town. Food supply was limited, so Alice sent her new children away to make a “life” of their own a few towns over. She gave them the latitude to choose their own paths and set them off.

Since that night, the Oberlochs have carried on the family tradition, unknowingly honoring the decisions made by the Brood matriarch so many years ago. The family spreads to new towns, driven by wanderlust and that slow-burning need to procreate, and there it sets up shop. If blood runs dry or family gets bored, they move on. Over the years, some have considered going to the city where food would be more plentiful, but whispers of other creatures and a general disgust for all things urban have kept them to the backwater burgs of North America.

Old Alice
The family matron now known as Old Alice is still around, despite suggestions that her existence is nothing more than a fable. She still dwells in the first family haven of Harmony, Pennsylvania, contained mostly to a single room where she rants and raves about what she believes is prophecy, and what her keepers believe is mad gibbering. Her tenders (old members of the line) take her out from time to time to “visit” with other Oberlochs. Such ancillary family rarely meet Old Alice’s expectations, and end up as either food or ash.

Society and Culture
The Oberlochs are unlike most other Kindred. The unique features and attitudes of the line keep its members isolated — both physically and socially — from other vampires. The Brood maintains its own tenets and traditions, many of which are detailed below.

Ties That Bind
Oberloch vampires are obviously not family in the strict sense of the word. Vampires may not be able to breed biologically, but they do have the ability to create progeny by supernatural means. Any mortal found to be a candidate for membership is introduced to undeath. Prior to the Embrace, however, mortals are put through a grisly initiation.

Qualification involves no one thing; initiation customs differ from town to town. For the most part, tests cultivate the tragic bond that can arise between battered wife and abusive husband, or hostage and hostage-taker. The family creates in the mortal a sense of “learned helplessness.” The Oberlochs strip everything from the victim: money, possessions, transportation, family, friends. The Brood assumes control of his resources or replaces them. In the case of money, the Oberlochs take it and offer to spend it sparingly on the victim’s needs (on food, for instance), provided he “stays put.” In the case of friends and family, the vampires attempt to subsume those roles. When the subject needs something, the family may indulge it — or may inflict violence. The mortal is deprogrammed through a cycle of intermittent reward and punishment. Months pass and the subject’s life becomes the property of the Brood. Provided he remains sufficiently debased, but strong enough to be worthy of the family name, he is Embraced.

Establishing bonds doesn’t end there, though. Family is the cornerstone of the bloodline. Members hold no actual love for one another (attempts at manifesting the emotion result in little more than funhouse mockery of the sentiment), but they do maintain powerful bonds of loyalty and protectiveness over those “of the blood.” It’s therefore critical to ensure that the newly inducted are faithful to flesh and blood. The family inflicts several tests of loyalty over the first few years of a neonate’s existence. Such tests are meant to reveal just how far a vampire is willing to go to fulfill the family’s greater good. Will she kill a puppy? A human child? An adult? Will she risk Final Death to obtain an old Oberloch heirloom or sepia-stained photograph? Family members are encouraged to come up with new tests and challenges on the fly, all in an effort to gauge a neonate’s fidelity. (Sometimes, these tests manifest as blood bonds with one another; some Oberlochs do mistakenly associate this supernatural devotion as some kind of twisted “love.”)

A neonate who fails a test is not cast aside or destroyed. After all, the family doesn’t bolster its ranks by senselessly punishing transgressions. Family is family and each member, young or old, deserves some latitude. Should enough tests (or one important one) fail, however, the transgressor is sure to be punished beyond the rational thresholds of education and pain. The same goes for any Oberloch of any age who attempts to betray the line’s heritage. Treachery against the Brood — which might be as simple as fleeing the family or cursing the Oberloch’s good name — is forgivable, provided the offender is duly punished and makes up for such duplicity. Serious betrayals (such as killing a Grandparent or calling down mortal authorities on the family) are met with a slow and arduous Final Death.

Small-Town Horror
The villages and hamlets of the world are largely unoccupied by Kindred. Most vampires flock to cities because they offer both anonymity and an unending supply of blood. The Oberlochs have little interest in traveling to cities. Not only are they filthy places, dens of the kind of corruption that corrodes family ties, but members see little reason to be the little fish in a big, stagnant pond. They’d far rather be the biggest — the only — predators in a given area, so they choose the small towns of America to settle down.

The Brood looks for a few key characteristics when attempting to stake its territorial claim in a new place. First, a town has to be self-contained. A tiny burg of 200 or so people usually does the trick, but some members have been known to settle down in towns populated by just under a thousand. Second, a town can’t be too close to urban civilization. Not only does such modernity make old Oberlochs uncomfortable, it doesn’t lend itself to the tried and true techniques of domination that the clan has established. Thus, a chosen town must be at least 10 miles from a major highway, and at least 50 miles from a major city. Places located between cities are ideal. Such locales can attract travelers who stray from the beaten path, and they make for good, untraceable blood sources. Oberlochs also select new members from the ranks of these wayward folks.

Most Brood members are completely ignorant of vampire society, so know nothing of the Traditions. And yet, the line upholds a loose version of the Masquerade. Such a rule has no name and no Oberloch is techni-cally bound by it, but the experience of old family members makes it clear that lording too openly over humans is likely to get one beaten or destroyed. That said, the Oberlochs don’t hide, either. Mortals living in a town with these backwater monsters tend to sense that something is wrong, even if they don’t know what.

The family tells of a few towns — locations hidden far from cities in states such as Alaska, Colorado and Maine — where Oberlochs live openly as vampires, ruling human herds as a rancher does cattle. Such stories may be legend, but some Brood swear they’ve been to these promised lands.

Generations
The bulk of the family far and wide consists of neonates and ancillae. It counts only two or three known elders, and few have ever encountered these Oberloch forebears.

As mentioned, neonates are put through sporadic examinations of loyalty, but that’s not to say they’re distrusted completely. New vampires of the blood — usually called “striplings” or “saplings” — are treated as if part of something far bigger than a normal, mortal existence. While they receive nothing that could be termed love or compassion, striplings do enjoy an occasional modicum of respect. They’re treated better than other mortals who wander into town, for example.

Such consideration is simply tempered with a dose of caution for new blood, as a newly Embraced member technically remains “undeclared” until her Blood Potency reaches 2. Until that time, the neonate is watched askance to make sure she doesn’t bolt for the hills. As the months and years pass, neonates are given longer leashes by their sires (or “parents”) in an effort to engender faith.

(Note that the Oberloch family does not allow other vampires to become part of the Brood. While a Gangrel can enter the family at Blood Potency 4, no Grandfather allows such a violation of familial trust. Other vampires are seen as weak-willed cousins at best. At worst, they’re perceived as diabolical outsiders worthy of a “burnin’ out back of the house.”)

Duties and Traditions
The following is a brief list of potential obligations observed by many Oberlochs. This list is hardly exhaustive. Nor is it codified in any way. Any Brood in a given town may adhere to these customs as if they were handed down by God, or may ignore them altogether in favor of a different set of practices.

• The oldest Oberloch in town is called Grandmother or Grandfather. His or her will supercedes the judgment of all other local family members.
• Those vampires below Grandmother/Grandfather who have sired childer are called father or mother.
• Neonates are allowed to Embrace another when their Requiem has reached 10 years. At that point, they gain what is typically referred to as “breeding rights.” An Oberloch may sire only one childe every 10 years (and are, in fact, expected to). Excess breeding results in the destruction of a new childe… or of an old one. Sire’s choice.
• Neonates are expected to fetch food for the oldest Oberloch in town.
• Should family members choose to ghoul local mortals, such people are called “cousins.”

The only rule in place that’s considered inviolate is what the family calls “The First Law.” This obligation, taught to potential Oberlochs even before their Embrace, is simple. “Blood comes first. Never betray the Blood.” While the law is purposefully vague, it implies that any treachery against the Brood will be met with the harshest of punishments. The First Law often adorns signs posted on or around family property, sometimes scrawled in blood, paint or feces. Some rebuke such disgusting ways, instead making cross-stitched wall hangings or wooden carvings with the message front and center.

Horror Houses
When select members of the family branch out and attempt to settle down in a new town, the first thing they do is seek out an appropriate familial haven (referred to as a “homestead” or “rooming house”). This group dwelling is usually the biggest and most obvious building in town. It could be anything from an antebellum old-money mansion to a crumbling old sewing mill; from a run-down amusement park to a doublewide. The Oberlochs kill the occupants or keep them alive (for food or to become future Brood members), establishing a “safe” place from which to pursue family endeavors. In these horrid sanctuaries, the Oberlochs acquire food, raise grotesque pets, Embrace new childer and even hold violent parties and gatherings.

Despite the family’s auspicious and mannered origins, havens tend to run toward disheveled and disgusting. Some actually refer to these places as “horror houses” (as a point of pride). Over time, the places can become models of chaos and fear. Pictures are torn off walls, claw-foot bathtubs are stained with blood, human and animal carcasses are buried haphazardly in the yard. Some havens don’t maintain utilities (although wise members know to steal money from travelers or townsfolk, which can be used to pay power and water bills). Some may even have animals (feral cats, possum or bats) living in otherwise unoccupied rooms. Not all the Oberlochs exist like this, though. Young members tend to preserve a greater semblance of humanity. It’s the older, stranger Brood who often reside this way, making lurid hell-houses out of once-stately manors.

Moving in
When one or several Oberlochs move into a town and establish a new home, they apply a loose-but-effective strategy in “claiming” the area. The first move involves gaining control over a few prominent townsfolk. These could be deputies, reverends, ministers, teachers or clerks. The means of influencing such people varies. Clever newcomers dig up dirt on mortals, hoping to gain some kind of blackmail leverage. Bribery or threats also work. Some Oberlochs go so far as to kidnap a loved one, using the victim as a semi-permanent bargaining chip. Beyond that, other methods include use of Disciplines (specifically Dominate) or making targets into ghouls. Only under extreme circumstances do Brood members Embrace significant townsfolk this early on.

From there, the Oberlochs choose their homestead for at least the initial stages of settlement. Some make this the first step, but many recognize the need to have a few “fish on the line” first. After all, taking over a house by murdering its occupants could attract local police. It helps to have one or several officers already under thumb.

A homestead provides a place to plot how to claim more of the town as a hunting ground. Is there a bus depot that brings in the occasional runaway? Does the police station have holding cells that might contain a few drunks who won’t be missed? Where do the bad kids, small-town criminals or hermits live? As the months go by, the Oberlochs scheme to take control of these areas. Of course, “control” is an ambiguous term. It could mean simply putting one of the family nearby to stalk such places and bring back food, or it could involve actively Dominating or ghouling appropriate parties to claim new turf.

Oberlochs may stay in a given town for six months or 60 years, depending on how secure the family’s hold is. Should the Brood feel that it’s losing control, it may move on. The family may also pack its bags for other reasons, such as if law enforcement threatens dominance, if other supernatural beings intrude, or if the accursed city encroaches upon rural existence. Any of these are reason enough to skip town. The world is full of meaningless little villages, each one practically bursting with unclaimed blood.

The Brood rarely chooses territory that’s already claimed, whether by blood kin, other vampires or other creatures. The clan prefers fruit that’s free for the picking. Too many conflicts from the get-go only serve to weaken the family unit. That’s not to say, however , that members don’t accidentally settle down in someone else’s backyard. The Oberlochs aren’t omniscient.

Human Perspective
What do local townsfolk think of a cadre of Oberlochs moving in? Often, not much. They certainly don’t assume that such backwoods oddballs and nocturnal rednecks are creatures of the night. The general assumption is that the newcomers are just goddamn weird. Most small towns have families like that. They might live up on a hill just outside of town, have a pack of barking dogs penned up by chain-link fence, or can be seen staring through the windows of shops or restaurants. The unsettling family, whether alive or dead, is the object of whispered rumors and legend. Locals recognize that such people are off-kilter or potentially dangerous, but are often content to leave it at that.

Of course, that’s until their kids go missing after playing too close to “the old farmhouse.”

Family Fugitives
Not all Oberlochs are happy to be a part of such a tight-knit, undead family. Truth is, most neonates are frightened and appalled at what they are, but are made to see the error of their ways by parents and elders. Happy or not, few Oberlochs ever escape the family’s clutches. Oh, most try. Few are able to succeed for long, though.

Members who go over the fence often make it one or two towns down the road, maybe getting as far as a couple counties away. The Brood doesn’t take to such treachery, and goes through Hell and high water to bring escapees back. The clan organizes what’s commonly called a “rabbit hunt.” Most times the escapee is found, corralled and returned, whether willingly or by force. The fugitive faces whatever justice the Grandmother or Grandfather deems appropriate. Punishment is usually harsh and torturous, but rarely involves destruction unless this isn’t the first or even second attempt. Under those circumstances, getting the offender to cut himself his own switch has obviously taught him nothing, and the next “switch” is driven into his heart.

A handful of the Brood has managed to escape completely. They find relative safety in cities. While a hunting party may attempt to track a “rabbit” into the urban press, hunters lose much of their power in the city. Not only are family members uncomfortable or ignorant about metropolitan areas, but their allies there are few and far between.

Those rare Oberlochs who make it to the outside world of vampire society find it quite surprising. The sheer presence of a city may not be shocking (some individuals came from cities), but the existence and nature of other supernatural beings — especially other vampires — is often unforeseen. Leaving the relatively simple rules of the Brood behind means entering a realm with infinitely more complex social and political entanglements.

It’s important to note that any Oberloch character who goes to the city as a fugitive is ignorant of most of vampire society, and may run afoul of the Traditions. Resident Kindred who come across such a newcomer may try to learn more about this aberrant bloodline (and may be surprised to discover that the countryside harbors more of these back-road bloodsuckers). Or they could try to put the Oberloch to Final Death should the rube breach the Traditions too often or too blatantly.

Ignorance
“No man is an island,” or so the saying goes, but the Oberlochs try very hard to make that proverb true. Family members have little interest in interacting with the outside world. Extending a hand to the unknown is an invitation to have it bitten off at the wrist. The Brood would rather remain insular and regionally powerful in the small towns it has infested.

This isolation translates into a general ignorance about other supernatural beings. Publicly, the family knows enough about Lupines (see below), very little about other vampires, and nothing about the existence of witches or wizards. Such ignorance is not applicable across the board, though.

While neonates almost certainly go dumb, old Oberlochs (some ancillae and the scarce few elders) know more than they’re willing to share. It’s inevitable that over a period of nearly two centuries some members have run into Kindred from other clans and covenants. While such run-ins haven’t yielded a great deal of information, providing only a piecemeal understanding of vampiric existence outside the family, some Oberlochs at least realize that they’re not alone in their condition. Obviously, the bloodline’s progenitors (Old Alice, specifically) had awareness of other vampires, but none ever anticipated the scope of Kindred existence.

Some old family members have also had encounters with supposed witches. Most of these hypothetical snake charmers were just as isolated as the Oberlochs — women of the Jersey Pine Barrens capable of casting hexes, or Appalachian men who could tell the future by throwing turkey bones and reading animal droppings. It is as yet uncertain if the lineage has ever encountered “real” mages.

No matter what, the Oberlochs keep the existence of other supernatural creatures hidden from most family. Elders find it useful to keep the majority in the dark, making the oldest the be all, end all of the unearthly world. This code of silence does, however, leave elders alone to speculate about the connection between them and the world’s denizens. Most are content to dismiss other Kindred as nothing more than inferior cousins, but some wonder if they themselves are the true aberrations.

It’s rumored that some of the Brood have kidnapped a few “city” vampires, and keep them contained in old root cellars to learn more about the deviant relatives. Since none have ever witnessed such outsiders, it’s hard to tell if such tall stories are just that, or if victims simply have yet to escape.

Lupines
The Oberloch line has had its share of contact with werewolves. The first encounter was in 1922 in the small town of Henley, deep in the Jersey Pine Barrens. Local family members clashed with the brutish wolf-men over the course of several nights, engaging in a bloody, protracted game of cat-and-mouse. The vampires didn’t know what the hell they were dealing with. Obviously, monsters existed; the Oberlochs were proof positive of that. But these things were different: savage and unkempt, coordinating attacks with a feral intelligence. The family didn’t fare well. Only one member escaped, one-armed but with his unlife intact. That vampire, said to be a Grandfather of the Daniel clan, passed on what little he could discern to family members a few counties over.

It has since been an implicit family directive to learn more about shapechangers. Specifically, how to kill the Godforsaken predators. Some family members aren’t quite experts on the subject of Lupines, but know more than most. The Brood asserts many “truths” that are actually home- spun superstitions (the beasts are men who fornicated with he Devil, or that werewolves aren’t men at all, but vengeful spirits). One piece of Lupine lore that’s both superstitious and accurate is that these creatures can be harmed by silver. (Indeed, the occasional Oberloch can be found in the cellar of his haven, smelting the previous owner’s silverware down into weapons.) Curiously, many Oberlochs know more about werewolves than they do about other vampires.

Texas Silver
The western town of Fort Assumption is home to an old collapsed silver mine called the Babyhead Mine, named for the dried-up creek bed it parallels. The town, once booming, is now mostly devoid of a populace, being counted among the throng of ghost towns in the American West.

The town does have a few temporary occupants, though: three Oberloch vampires who subsist in a broken-down RV. These undead (two men by the names of Martin and Uriah, and a recently Embraced teenage girl who goes by Dani) travel to and from the ghost town for one purpose — to collect silver meant for those “damned critters.” These three single-minded Brood members cater to no discussions or alliances with werewolves, and hope to put every last one of them six feet under.

Despite the family’s ancillary obsession with Lupines, they don’t care enough about the beasts to get too close. The Oberlochs have little interest in a bloody territory war. If there’s proof that werewolves are in an area and could potentially threaten a power base, the vampires are likely to pack their bags and get out of town. There’s no reason to tempt fate. After fleeing, the family may return a few weeks later to test the waters again. If found secure, they probably settle down. If the Lupines continue to loom, that town becomes more or less “dead” to the clan. Only a rare few Oberlochs have attempted to defend their territory against werewolves. The family can relate even fewer success stories.

Devotions
The Oberloch bloodline does not possess its own unique Discipline. The vampires don’t really know enough about their condition, even after a hundred or more years, to truly manifest any unique strains of power. The fact of their deviance from the Gangrel clan is as much demarcation as they are intuitively capable of.

The family has, however, managed to evolve a few special tricks in the form of Devotions. These powers are largely secret and are meant for the bloodline alone. While it’s not impossible that outsiders would or could learn these powers (see “Family Fugitives,” above, for an idea on how another vampire could encounter Brood members), it’s unlikely. Besides, while these Devotions serve the family and its needs well, they may not be much good to other Kindred.

The following capabilities are only a sampling of what the Oberlochs know. The family is spread far and wide, but also very thin. Some clusters may know these tricks or be altogether ignorant of them. Others may have concocted their own home-brewed powers meant to suit the specifics of their nightly existence.

The First Estate’s acceptance of the bloodline and knightly order known as the Order of Sir Martin comes as something of a surprise to most Kindred. Often described with epithets ranging from “unpleasant” to “scurrilous” or worse, the Knights of Sir Martin seem at first glance antithetical to the First Estate. They claim to uphold the law, never openly defying it and always adopting a stance of submission towards the authority of the Invictus, yet they seem constantly plagued by accusations of secretly flaunting the edicts of the domain and spreading disease among the masses.

In truth, the Order of Sir Martin acts as a sort of secret police for the Invictus, willing to act in ways and investigate in places that the more proper members of the covenant could never sanction. The eclectic membership of the order opens it to Kindred who would never otherwise find a niche within the First Estate, while the covert operations it engages in on behalf of the Invictus allows its members to channel their most destructive impulses into productive avenues. The Invictus appreciates the Leper Knight’s unique talents and have kept them close to their breast for almost a thousand years.

Parent Clan: Nosferatu; rumors persist, however, that the Order of Sir Martin can spread their foul disease to members of other clans, drawing them into the bloodline against their will.

Nickname: Leper Knights (or more derogatorily, simply Lepers)

History and Culture: The Most Noble Order of the Fallen King, more commonly known as the Order of Sir Martin, originated in the late 11th century, just as the Crusades first fell upon the Holy Land. Bloodline legend accredits the formation of the line to an ancient monster called Martin of Jerusalem. The Haunt, long blighted with deformities that gave him the appearance of a leper, dressed in rags and existed among the colonies of the diseased and infirm. Over the centuries he drew several vampires to him, most of which were Haunts whose curse had manifested in ways they felt too severe to allow them to exist within the framework of Kindred society.

The pilgrims of the First Crusade slaughtered much of the populace of Jerusalem, robbing the local Kindred of a once-plentiful herd. While his more erudite and sophisticated contemporaries fell into torpor, Martin adapted, moving among the mortal knights and spreading the diseases he had long carried within his blood. The population of hospitalized westerners rose, and Martin moved among the blighted knights, studying their philosophies and religion and melding it with his own understanding of the world. A few of the warriors proved too pleasing to release to the cold grasp of death, and Martin took on new childer, empowering them with his Vitae and teaching them his own brand of survival.

By the end of the 12th century, the lineage had grown to almost a dozen Kindred residing throughout the Holy Land. While a few were directly related to Martin, most were European monsters who had followed the Crusade east. Martin took such outcasts to his bosom, as he had always done, and taught them to move with subtlety and guile. Better to skulk, hide and survive within Kindred society than be banished to the wilds and fall to the rapacious monster within. Yet the line faced rejection, both from the local Kindred, who felt Martin had become too westernized, and from the Sanctified and Invictus that had followed the Crusade, who saw Martin as a local heathen and threat.

Martin again adapted, adopting the organization of the knightly orders that accompanied Kindred of the two great covenants to the Levant. In 1183, Martin gathered his extended family and bound them together in an oath, christening his group the Most Noble Order of King Baldwin the Leprous (who was then the King of Jerusalem). After Baldwin’s death two years later, Sir Martin renamed his followers the Order of the Fallen King.

Though the Leper Knights never gained the respect of the other knightly orders of the period, they both outperformed and outlasted the vast majority. Martin taught his followers to cleave only to the words of oaths, discarding the spirit for a convenient loophole. He taught them to defend themselves, not only with weapons and armor, but with the fear of the diseases they might have. Members of the line teach their childer the following aphorism, attributed to Martin himself: “Be so unpleasant that they cannot bear to look at what you are doing. Smell so of filth that they keep their noses out of your business.”

The lineage began haunting the various roads between the west and the Holy Land, feeding on the sick and infirm and spreading fear and loathing in their wake. The western covenants, too repulsed by the Order’s habits, failed to realize the wide-ranging network the Order had established. A dark reflection of the Knights Templar, the Order began trading in favors and influence, allowing a Kindred to provide a service to a Leper Knight in Europe for the promise of a later favor in Jerusalem. Nomadic Kindred leapt at the opportunity, allowing the Order to
garner wealth and power at a startling rate. Members of the Order printed notes with special seals that attested to what the traveler was owed by the line. The Leper Knights of the Levant even honored the writs of those few vampires who survived the arduous journey.

With Martin’s blessing, the Order melded with the Invictus in 1317. Since then the Order has grown in size, always clinging to the outskirts of Kindred society, providing necessary services that the majority of Invictus find too repellent to perform themselves. The Order continues to take in those who would otherwise founder in the Danse Macabre, teaching them to overcome their curse and work towards their own welfare rather than devolving into slaver- ing monsters.

Tonight the Order looks much as it always has. In Europe, where the bloodline boasts the most members, the Leper Knights organize into Chapters, each of which usually covers a small region (such as London and its environs). In areas with smaller populations, a Chapter may cover a larger geographical area, but never so large that the Chapter cannot gather four to five times a year or easily communicate. Nomadic members of the lineage, called Rovers, travel between the Chapters, providing information and aid to compatriots in distant domains. Thus the bloodline manages a rough communication system that spans Europe, allowing information within the line to pass between domains far more quickly than it does through other sources.

In the Americas, the Chapter system breaks down, and few such organizations exist outside of New England. More typically a small city may include one or two members of the line, while a larger metropolis may boast a small gang of Leper Knights (who often adopt a gangland attitude and fashion sense, if only to further their unwholesome image). Groups of Leper Knights (even the New England Chapters) in the Americas rarely communicate across the vast expanses of wilderness and don’t benefit from the same information network that their European cousins do.

Reputation: The Order of Sir Martin has never enjoyed a particularly positive reputation among either its peers within the Invictus or in Kindred society as a whole. The Carthian Movement, especially, finds the Order distasteful. According to the Carthians, they serve as exemplars of the worst mercenary tendencies of the Kindred, willing to take any assignment, no matter how degrading, for whatever table scraps the Invictus throw their way. Most grating to the Carthians is the fact that many of the Kindred the Order takes on were vampires who the Movement was eyeing for recruitment.

The Lancea Sanctum and Circle of the Crone have eerily similar opinions about the Order. Both groups feel that the bloodline wallows in self-interest, rebuffing any opportunity for enlightenment or grace. In short, the line fails to uphold the will of God (or the gods). The Leper Knights don’t share the animosity, and in domains in which the Invictus has a strong relationship with either covenant, members of the lineage often attend mass or the solstice rituals.

While Kindred of the Order of Sir Martin almost universally swear fealty to the Invictus, a rare few forsake the First Estate for the Ordo Dracul. Such Kindred are almost always elders who have decided that they want something more out of unlife than the riches that come with membership in the Invictus. These Kindred find enough familiarity in the Order to embrace it, and many become celebrated members of the Sworn of the Axe. Unfortunately, leaving the Invictus requires a Leper Knight to recant his sworn oath to the knightly order. The lack of reprisal such turncoats face often worries the Ordo Dracul, and the Dragons usually watch their new members with extreme care, making entirely clear what will befall them if the local Invictus begins showing signs of the Coils of the Dragon.

Concepts: Anti-Crone crusader, apparent AIDS victim, disease carrier, doctor-turned-murderer, extremist militant, gangland tyrant, information broker, spy in a foreign court, unceremonious prostitute, urban cowboy

The Advantages of Membership

Members of the Order of Sir Martin gain two advantages. First, upon entering the bloodline, the character swears an oath of fealty to his fellow Leper Knights. The Knights help one another regularly, forming a web of mentorship with a slightly different focus than the Invictus. As a result, characters who claim both membership in the bloodline and Status of at least 1 in the Invictus may purchase the following Merits at half the usual cost in experience: Fighting Styles, Haven, Mentor and Retainer. They do not continue to purchase Herd at half price, and this bonus does not apply at character creation.

Additionally, members of the Order of Sir Martin gain access to the following Devotions. Each is a closely guarded secret within the sect and never taught to outsiders.

This small, enigmatic and almost extinct bloodline claims, like many faithful bloodlines, to be descended from one of the first Sanctified — a former mortuary priest and scholar of the dead. The name of this progenitor is lost, but the bloodline’s name comes from the lineage’s ancient nickname: Bone Monks. Osites (from os, meaning “bone”) seek to derive spiritual understanding of the Requiem by studying that which God has withheld from the Damned: death. Osites traditionally regard funerary rites as fascinating cultural and occult events; they examine corpses, cemeteries, morgues and churchyards for some evidence of what lies beyond the mortal coil. By understanding both life (which the Osites have already experienced) and death, the Bone Monks believe they can better master the state of undeath and celebrate the Curse.

Some say the Osites used to be the keepers of catacombs beneath Rome; that they are the remnants of a Roman ancestor cult. Others claim they were a secret society of necromancers prior to the Embrace of their leader by the Monachus. Most often believed, however, is the tale told by elder Osites: that they were simple scriveners and morticians for the Sanctified in the early nights of the Black Abbey. It fell to the forbears of the Bone Monks to dispose of human corpses following Sanctified rites and ceremonies. Eventually, it fell to them to deal with the bodies of humans accidentally slain by sloppy predators. Within a few decades, the so-called Bone Monks were surrounded by death perpetrated by the Lancea Sanctum. Then, one night, the forgotten founder of the Osite bloodline saw that he was not alone in the crypts beneath the Black Abbey — he was surrounded by ghosts.

Since that night, the descendants of the first Osite have been pursuing the study of death. What, exactly, they seek varies with each Bone Monk — the sensation of dying, insight into the spiritual architecture of the world, the ability to return a soul to its body — but most agree that they’ll recognize the secret when they find it.

Osites occultism speculates that the living and the dead each have their own spiritual energies, and that those energies are intermingled in the bodies of the Damned. According to Osites, when a creature dies, its living, physical essence (perhaps the mystic energy that separates blood from Vitae) is transmuted into a spiritual essence, and the moment of that transmutation (that is, the moment of death) is an instant of sublime and miraculous power. In that moment, everything about a person may be revealed. It is the only instant of true, naked honesty in the existence of any creature.

When something dies, a residue of its living essence might remain in the body, like a fragment of the self left behind when the soul broke free of the form. The Osite Discipline of Memento Mori is an attempt to make use of that residue. With it, and centuries of occult study, Osites hope to one day see the mechanisms of the universe and understand the mystical system God created.

Covenant: The Osites claim their lineage began in the catacombs beneath the Black Abbey, and most Bone Monks have been Sanctified since the Embrace.

Many Osites can hardly be called devout members of the covenant, however, as they tend to visit the minimum observances necessary to maintain good standing in the parish and provide little of value to Anointed who have nothing to gain from their macabre studies. Individual Osites are often privately pious — most are deeply spiritual — but few Osites have an interest in the quality of faith held by other Sanctified. The parish, and the Invictus or Carthian authorities, may demand that a local Osite earn his keep by using his supernatural insight to investigate even mildly suspicious deaths in the domain. Perhaps a Priest’s Herd has been thinned or a Primogen’s Retainer has been found dead and it is the Osite’s responsibility to label the death a crime or an accident — or prove it to be what the Prince has already labeled it.

Osites tend to have fewer qualms than other Sanctified about dealing with pagan Kindred. They follow investigations and research wherever it leads, and are as fascinated by pagan perceptions of death as they are by Sanctified scripture. Over the centuries, a few Osites have chosen their occult studies over their dedication to Longinus and left the Sanctified for the ranks of the Acolytes or, more often, the Dragons. It’s more common for Osites to maintain secret ties with other covenants, however, rather than risk losing the protection of the Lancea Sanctum.

Appearance: Most Osites care little for their appearance, appearing dirty and unkempt, whether in monks’ robes or modern dress. Some dress like gravediggers or sewer workers, others wear plastic aprons like a coroner or the tweed jacket of a college professor. Most Osites have given up on matters of fashion and style, though many are sociable and even pleasant. They appear as they are: fastidious scholars distracted from the Requiem by their obsession.

All Osites are pale and discolored like a corpse, with dark stains in the fingers and feet, where their blood pools and settles. Many develop bluish lips and red, stiff eyes. They are clearly no longer living creatures. They do not rot, however, but remain forever in a state like that of the recently deceased.

Haven: Most Osites make their havens near cemeteries, mortuaries, or historic catacombs and ossuaries. Osites don’t concern themselves with creature comforts, but do collect texts, bones, memento mori images and all manner of funerary artworks, from Mexican sugar skulls to Egyptian scarab pendants. An Osite’s haven is likely to be cluttered with photographs seemingly snapped at an autopsy, books on anthropology and medicine, morticians’ trade publications, medical examiner’s tools and other trappings of the macabre hobbyist. Wealthy or well-connected Bone Monks may have basement rooms with plenty of drainage for storing, examining and interviewing the dead. The poorest Osites sleep in secret nooks and crawlspaces beneath funeral parlors or mausoleums.

Background: It is a rare night when an Osite sires a vampire. Few mortals with a passion for death are willing to avoid it for eternity. Rather, most new Osites are drawn from the ranks of Mekhet Kindred who develop a fascination with death over the course of their own Requiems. Still, not many Osites have an interest in becoming the Avus for another vampire. The Bone Monks have little interest in, and less need to, expand their membership or increase the number of Kindred who can practice the bloodline’s unique supernatural arts. The secrets an Osite uncovers are meant to satisfy his own spiritual pursuits and intellectual curiosities, not to grant the Lancea Sanctum some power over the dead.

Character Creation: Osites favor Mental Attributes, almost without exception. Wits is paramount, for an Osite must be perceptive, but Intelligence is also vital if he is to understand what he sees. Mental Skills such as Investigation, Medicine and Occult are essential to an Osite’s studies. Physical Skills get overlooked by most Osites, though some dots in Larceny and Stealth can aid a Bone Monk that plans on trespassing in morgues and graveyards. Osites may seek Contacts in funeral homes, cemeteries and hospitals throughout the city, or keep a Retainer to run errands for him among mortals. Remember that a character must have at least a second dot of Blood Potency to even be eligible for the bloodline.

Organization: Modern Osites don’t often organize outside whatever social structure is imposed on them by the covenant. The Bone Monks are so few and far between that little or no communication takes place between them anymore. Domains with more than one Osite are very rare. Those with more than two Osites have, in almost every case, been the home of a “chapter” (some say “cult”) of Bone Monks for hundreds of years; such domains are thought to exist only in Europe. The Bone Monks of such a relatively crowded parish have probably been organized by the resident Bishop to serve some purpose for the covenant, perhaps searching catacombs for relics or researching some deathly rite of Theban Sorcery.

Outside of the covenant hierarchy, Osites sometimes work together as mentor-and-student or researcher-and-assistant pairs. Historically, such relationships are intended to repay an Osite Avus for admitting a new Bone Monk into the line. In practice that’s certainly the case sometimes, but other Bone Monks work together for a short while (say, 10 or 15 years) to master the supernatural powers of Osite blood or investigate some larger mystery, such as a mass grave, a rash of hauntings or the motives of a serial killer.

Concepts: Cynical EMT, deranged ER doctor, eager mortician, gravedigger, hospice nurse, medical examiner, obituary writer, occult archaeologist.

Since the publication of Polidori’s The Vampyre, mass media has created their own images of the undead. Some Kindred find these glamorized, romantic reflections of themselves insulting; others find them funny, though their laughter often has a hollowness or bitter edge. Few books and fewer movies or TV shows capture the ugliness running through the Danse Macabre.

A few Kindred, however, love these images. They wish they were the vampires they see in the movies: beautiful and powerful, stylish and deadly — and untroubled by a ravening Beast. For some Kindred, this wish goes all the way back to their mortal days. Decades ago, when “sexy movie vampire” still meant Bela Lugosi, at least one foolish mortal got his wish. Thus began the Players, one of the most mocked and scorned bloodline in the World of Darkness.

The Players yearn to stalk through the night as dark gods of lust and blood like the Daeva, whom the Players see as closest to their movie-vampire ideal. Unfortunately, the Players are Mekhet. They’re good at hiding, eavesdropping and running away. Well, whoop-de-do.

Still, the Players are very good at hiding — from other Kindred, the kine and especially themselves. Like movie stars, rock gods, sports stars and supermodels, they create magnified images of what they would like to be, or what other people would like them to be. Who sees the real person behind the glitz? Who even wants to, really?

Through sheer desire for the superstar glamour they saw embodied by the Daeva, the early Players wrought a change in their blood. They can learn the supernatural allure of Majesty. This Discipline, and the talent for Obfuscate that comes from their Mekhet heritage, lets the Players pose as the charismatic creatures they long to be. Dracula, Lestat, the Lost Boys, Angel — and them!

The bloodline quickly spread beyond its original obsession. The glamour the Players see in movie vampires is not far from the glamour of celebrity entertainers. They, too, attract fawning mortals and can get away with nearly anything. Players use images of celebrity to draw in mortal prey. The Players want more than blood. They want fame. Oh, how they want it — the power to step into a room and become the instant center of attention. The power to stand on a stage, and have the audience love them! Even if the stage is just a table at a nightclub, and the audience a few star-struck college students.

Of course, it doesn’t work out the way they want. The glamour always fails. Kindred see through the Players’ poses most easily, but even the most enthralled and bamboozled mortal eventually sees through the illusions. The demon queen the mortals loved more than life is just a bimbo on a perpetual liquid diet. The brooding, tormented anti-hero is just a self-centered whiner. The star athlete never played sports, and the supermodel never trod the runway. The Players don’t give up, though. There’s always another mortal to enthrall.

Nickname: Wannabes, Posers and less printable names. A few Players call themselves the Lonely Ones when they want to exploit vampire-lifestyle groupies.

Covenant:
So far, most Players are unaligned. Connections through sires and broodmates help a great deal in joining any covenant, and the Players are too new to enjoy the benefits of undead nepotism. The lineage began among Mekhet with little knowledge of Kindred society, and many Players still get more ideas about vampirism from movies than from other undead.

The Wannabes who learn about Kindred society often find the Carthians the most accessible, due to the covenant’s strong ties to the mortal world and contemporary culture. On the other hand, the pomp and grandeur of the Invictus appeals to the Players’ sense of drama: beyond a doubt, the Invictus seem like the glitterati among the Kindred. The Acolytes, Sanctified and Dragons are too arcane to appeal much to Players, and leaders of these covenants often despise the Wannabes for their obsession with image and the cutting edge of pop culture.

Appearance:
Wannabes come in every race. Male and female Players are equally common. Almost all are young in mortal terms, however, and at least moderately attractive. Street-chic fashions (often a few years out of date) such as velvet shirts or tight vinyl miniskirts and bustiers are common, while some Players prefer meticulously ripped T-shirts and jeans. If it was in one of last year’s mega-blockbuster movies, though, Players will wear it. Wannabes are especially recognizable by their gorgeous, immaculately gelled and blow-dried hair.

Haven:
Players often dwell in lofts or condos with the décor dutifully copied from fashionable magazines or TV shows. Some Wannabes imitate the styles of other vampires, though: for instance, a house with faux-Victorian gingerbread nailed on for the would-be Ventrue or a derelict church’s crypt for one who likes the angst potential of the Nosferatu. There’s always a coffin.

Background:
Many Players began as entranced groupies of their sires. Sometimes a Player can’t accept that a mortal admirer has escaped her power, and so Embraces him to keep the illusion going a little longer. Sometimes a mortal begs for the Embrace because he wants the same glamour and power his sire seems to possess — the mortal doesn’t realize it’s all a fake and his sire is the last person who would set him straight. Future Wannabes are not always ensnared by Disciplines or Vinculums, either. They may simply want to be cool, sexy vampires, or they might see how the Player affects other mortals and want that power for themselves. The prospect of staying young and pretty forever is a powerful lure all by itself. So what if you have to drink blood to do it? Compared to the diets, plastic surgery and other stratagems celebrities use to prolong their looks, undeath doesn’t look that strange — until you’re there and it’s too late.

Character Creation:
Social Attributes and Skills are primary or at least secondary for Players. Very often, a Player’s charm or looks attracted her sire to her out of the other mortal groupies. Mental Attributes and Skills tend to be tertiary or secondary. Players almost never start out with high ratings in any Skill: in life, they were the half-talented, the also-rans, who never quite had what it took to become stars. Any Merits are also low-rated, such as minor Contacts, the rudiments of a Martial Art or minimal Status in a covenant. Striking Appearance •• is possible, but not the higher-rated version (at which one can become famous on looks alone). Most of all, Players gather Herds of mortal admirers.

Organization:
The Players are too new to have evolved any formal ranks, titles or institutions of their own. If a city hosts several Wannabes, they might gather in some trendy location to preen, try out cool taglines on each other and engage in competitive flirting. Players often try to steal away each other’s mortal admirers — possibly to feed on them, but sometimes just to show who’s coolest. Wannabes often brag about the important Kindred they know: “As I was saying to the Ventrue Primogen last week … .” Stories about brooding contests are slanders.

Instead of creating a culture of their own, Players immerse themselves in mortal institutions and subcultures in which they can indulge their lust for the trappings of fame. Trendy bars, nightclubs and other nocturnal entertainments are their favored haunts, as well as parties held by and for the beautiful, rich and at least semi-famous. The intrinsic limitations of undeath keep Players from pursuing real fame, but some of them find roles in the lower ranks of the entertainment industry. What does it matter if you tell jokes poorly, miss notes or mumble your lines? You can make the audience applaud!

The lineage began in Los Angeles, the glittering, mad heart of media illusion. Players remain most numerous in southern California. In recent decades, however, they have appeared in other cities with strong media industries such as New York, Vancouver and London, with rumors of Wannabes as far away as Hong Kong and New Zealand. Now they are spreading out even farther. A Player could take up residence in any city in the Western world, and maybe beyond.

Concepts: Bartender with a screenplay at Universal, body double for J. Lo’s foot, celebrity’s bodyguard, child star who grew up, failed actor, last year’s boy band member, movie geek, over-the-hill model, professional Dracula impersonator, sports non-star, stalker, third-rate stand-up comic

Devotions
The Players’ tendency to learn a few dots each of multiple Disciplines gives them the potential to learn many different Devotions as well. They seldom realize that potential. The Kindred often guard Devotions even more jealously than their Disciplines. The Wannabes developed several Devotions of their own, however, and trade them quite freely. Tue to the bloodline’s obsessions, the price for teaching a Discipline or Devotion is usually something such as an introduction to a famous entertainer and a chance to feed one time from her.

The Players’ Devotions usually involve presenting a false image. No supernatural ban prevents Wannabes from learning Devotions that do something real. They simply have more interest in the semblance of glamour, so they invented Devotions for that purpose. Or to put it another way: they don’t want to become powerful Kindred; they want to play them on TV.

The maternal instinct needn’t die with the body in a vampire’s Embrace. It is not a thing driven by love. It’s something altogether more biological, more innate. Many mortals cross the threshold between life and the Requiem and leave any parental inclinations behind, choosing to dwell in the darkness of unlife and adopt complete and total self-interest. Vampires of the Qedeshah bloodline, however, do not choose such selfishness. At least, not from their perspective.

This lineage — composed purely of women, for men suffer a grotesquely failed Embrace — began just after the Judaic Babylonian exile of ancient nights, or so the story goes. Once temple whores and priestesses to a purported deity known as the Queen of Heaven, the bloodline has shifted and adapted over the ages, joining the modern Danse Macabre as very different creatures from their progenitors.

The Qedeshah, also known as Hierodules, see themselves as the mothers of all the Damned. Nursemaids to the Kindred. The Embrace is a curse to be sure, but the Qedeshah prefer to see it as closing one door and opening another. The Requiem does not end their matronly duties, they say. Nor does it kill the capacity for unfettered creation. The Qedeshah understand that they can have children, and while creating offspring now involves a considerably different process than before, both acts are still wet with blood and wracked with pain. The rules of larger Kindred society deny a vampire’s act of procreation without a temporal Prince’s permission, but the Hierodules ask doesn’t such a ban deny the freedom that God Himself granted? He obviously allows for the proliferation of the Damned through the Embrace. Isn’t that permission enough?

Covenant: The Qedeshah belong to all — and none — of the covenants. As a bloodline, they do not hold literal allegiance to any of the factions, for none of those groups espouse precisely what members of this bloodline are taught to believe. The Hierodules mask themselves as members of all covenants, however, because they need to remain hidden (their flagrant denial of the Traditions would get them destroyed). Most tend to gravitate toward the populist Invictus or the religious Lancea Sanctum. The women would like to have more members hidden among the Ordo Dracul and Carthians, but so far such attempts have yielded little fruit.

The Lancea Sanctum is a curious conundrum for the Qedeshah. In a sense, it’s easy to hide among the group’s ranks, in part because belief systems are at least similar enough on the surface. Both pay homage to God and agree that He is directly behind the existence of vampires. Of course, the Qedeshah have a number of “alternate” theological beliefs, too, including the existence of the lesser divinity the Queen of Heaven. Such conviction makes the Qedeshah directly heretical to the Spear. Elder Sanctified may even recall standing orders to drag these “vampire mothers” before Archbishops for persecution. Thus, Qedeshah who mask themselves as Sanctum members walk a thin line. It’s easy enough to take part in some of the Sanctum’s rites, but should a Qedeshah be revealed, her Requiem may be cut painfully and prematurely short.

Of all of the covenants, the Hierodules have most in common with the Circle of the Crone. At least, that seems to be the case. Both groups recognize that undeath is an unnatural but powerful state, forcing a once-living thing into a lifeless existence. Both also revere a semi-mythical feminine being. The similarities end there, though. The Qedeshah do not count themselves as sorceresses or witches, and maintain that their origins are Judeo-Christian, believing in a patron goddess from Hebrew tradition. And yet, Acolytes do believe in a kind of “Kindred empowerment,” which allows the Qedeshah to exist somewhat easier (though still hidden) among such vampires.

Appearance: Virtually all Qedeshah are female. Almost no male members of the bloodline exist. The Hierodules do not care about uniformity in physical characteristics. It is far easier to stay hidden when shape, age and dress are heterogeneous.

Haven: Different Qedeshah choose different styles of haven. Many see themselves as humble matrons (even martyrs), choosing simple, minimalist affairs that require only minor rent and upkeep. Other women, more interested in eternal potential, lean toward opulence and luxury. One common factor is that Qedeshah tend to choose havens near other Kindred. Not only does this allow them to act appropriately as “mothers” of other vampires, but it’s far easier to remain hidden in the crowd than apart from it.

Background: The Hierodules covertly reject the Second Tradition, Embracing more often than most Kindred. God has granted them the right of creation, they believe, and the women do not reject His will lightly.

The single requirement for a Qedeshah’s Embrace is that the Requiem must unquestionably be better than a life of continued suffering. It is in this way that the curse becomes an endowment. The Hierodules choose women who are beaten and diminished by life, whether they have suffered at the hands of abusive husbands or fathers, or have been driven to addiction, homelessness or mental illness. It isn’t necessary for a newly sired Qedeshah to have the characteristics of a “good mother.” The limitless time of the Requiem can be devoted to instilling such qualities.

Character Creation: Social Attributes are favored among the Qedeshah, not only for the practical purpose of remaining hidden, but because such traits suit motherhood more than any others. Curiously, many Qedeshah also prize mortals in good bodily condition, with strong Physical Attributes. Some Hierodule understand the need to protect their “children” (whether such offspring are technically ghouls, childer or simply “adopted” Kindred depends on the vampire), and such protection sometimes requires violent contact. Like a mother lion guarding her cubs, a Qedeshah may need to rely on some manner of physical being to keep her “babies” safe.

In regard to Skills, a Qedeshah may have dots in Survival (the once-mortals were survivors in some fashion or another), but probably favors Social Skills such as Expression and Socialize. Merits tend to manifest as Allies and Contacts, for a Hierodule needs these to survive and remain protected throughout the Requiem. Many also have dots in Haven that go toward a well-placed and convenient home, or that contribute to a sanctuary (see below).

Organization: Formal meetings are difficult for a perse-
cuted bloodline. And yet, they’re encouraged whenever
possible. These meetings, held in places referred to as “sanc-
tuaries,” are offered on days corresponding to most Judeo-
Christian holidays (Easter, Christmas, Good Friday, Rosh
Hashanah). No Qedeshah is required to attend, but most
make the effort (if only to maintain Status).

The only official position within the bloodline is that
of the Dea Nutrix. This rank, literally translated as “nurse
goddess,” is granted to any member who maintains a place
of sanctuary (which is usually a haven located outside a
city, such as in a closed-down church or abandoned
schoolhouse). The Dea Nutrix calls, holds and directs
meetings. This is a position of honor within the blood-
line and requires at least Clan Status • and Haven ••• for
both the position and the location of the sanctuary.

Concepts: Prostitute, homeless woman, battered wife, teenage runaway, addict, Cancer patient, nun, nurse

History
What the Qedeshah believe about their origins and what is true differs in many places. The history of the bloodline is marred by legend and inaccuracy. For the most part, the Hierodules believe what they believe, and hold negligible interest in the “reality” of their birth. Whores of the Temple

This is what the Qedeshah claim as their history: Before the Babylonian exile, the temples of Judea were presided over by men. Hebrew priests and officiates were almost exclusively male. Women were not consistently allowed to venerate Yahweh in any formalized manner. As a result, many women honored both the religion of the Hebrews and the beliefs of multifarious fertility cults. They usually merged the two devotions, forming a syncretic agglomeration of faiths. Yahweh was believed to be the divine patriarch of heaven and man, but the women also accepted the existence and worship of one or several subservient goddesses.

Those who believed in one goddess often maintained that this fertile matron was literally the second “half” of Yahweh, and they called her Shekhina or simply the Queen of Heaven. Others accepted that this goddess was one of many cultic mothers, such as Ishtar, Astarte, Ashareh, Anath and even the dark Sumerian queen Ereshkigal. Whatever the specifics, women were allowed to offer faith in this system unhindered. They were also allowed to be priestesses, and the class chosen to be such officiates was the temple whores, called Qedeshah or Hierodules.

The holy prostitutes served many functions within the temples and towns of Judea and beyond. Aside from the core purpose of cultic sexual practice, the Hierodules were counselors, singers of lamentation, nurses and priestesses of the Queen of Heaven. They prayed to idols of the goddess (usually wooden or clay pillars called dea nutrix, indicating a goddess of nurture) and provided aid to those who suffered. The temple harlots could not marry, as such practice was forbidden by Judaic law. Women who were considered unsuitable brides for Hebrew men — specifically, women who were no longer virgins through wanton behavior or rape — were accepted as Hierodules without question, inducted into serving the holy needs of the Queen of Heaven.

Temple prostitutes were allowed to serve in such capacity until the time of the Hebraic exile into Babylonia. After the exile, everything changed.

Denial of the Goddess
The time of syncretism was over. No longer would any deities other than Yahweh be observed. In an effort to wipe clean any pantheistic influences, the Hebrews delivered the Deuteronomic laws that proscribed any functionary — specifically the Hierodules — who served “immoral” purposes or who worshipped outside the accepted Lord God.

The priestesses were targeted as blasphemers and given little chance to change their ways. Altars and statues were destroyed. Sacred groves dedicated to worship were burned. The homes of the Hierodules were razed, and many of the temple whores themselves were imprisoned, exiled or murdered in secret. Such slashing and burning took place over a period of years, and the house of the Lord was duly “cleansed.”

Presence of the Queen
Not far from the hills of Megiddo and the town of Nazareth sat a fallen village that was once a royal Canaanite city. This town, called Taanach, was the location of one of the few remaining goddess temples. The shrine — actually at the bottom of a large, long-forgotten cistern — was home to a handful of lingering Qedeshah, who prayed to the Queen of Heaven to save them. The women gathered around the altar made of baked earth and old blood, and waited for a savior — or an executioner.

Initially, no savior came for them. Men from nearby Nazareth came to punish the blasphemous women, instead, and dragged them into the night where they would be killed under the open sky, where God could see.

But then, she came. A woman, radiant of form and with bright, flashing eyes silently crossed the plain with surprising speed, murdering the men in one fell swoop. She spoke to the Qedeshah with a commanding voice, claiming to be the very being they venerated — the Shekhina, the Queen of Heaven.

The goddess did not reward her disciples. She did not present words of divine gratitude or holy accolade. Instead, she spat invective at her priestesses, accusing them of laxity in worship and impurity of soul. She called them dogs, insects and a host of other names, and each slight and slur wounded the Hierodules.

It was then that she gave them their new charge. The world, she said, was mired in suffering. Mankind endured much pain, but some men had become monsters, and those monsters suffered most of all. She told them they must become monsters to fulfill their purpose, which was to be mothers to all the demons of the world, helping to soothe the anguish of the Damned. The Qedeshah would be the secret matrons and nurses of Hell itself.

This woman — this goddess — Embraced the temple whores, and then left them.

Identity Of The Goddess
Who was the “goddess” who created the vampiric Qedeshah by sheer force of will? Was she really divine? And what do the Hierodules truly know of her?

Young Qedeshah of little faith suggest that she was not a goddess at all. They say she was divine in no way beyond being a mad vampire caught in the throes of a tortuous Requiem. Others say it’s all just a tall tale, and even then is inconsistent, the story changing from teller to teller. The town may change (“Was it Taanach or Lachish?”), as may the creator’s name (“She was Anath, bride of Baal, daughter of Yahweh,”). And yet, regardless of perspectives and details, believers in the story never question their creator’s divinity.

Those Qedeshah who are simply resigned to their reality accept that the so-called Queen of Heaven was likely a Mekhet vampire, potentially a woman who was once a temple whore herself. Was she scorned by the patriarchy of the religious order? Was she persecuted and destroyed, but saved by some other vampire? Her reasoning and story remain hidden behind that impenetrable curtain of history, and stand little chance of ever being revealed. Nobody is even sure if she is around anymore to ask. And even is she were, could her account be relied upon after all these ages?

Society and Culture
As a scattered, disparate bloodline that attempts concealment from the rest of Kindred society, it’s difficult for the Qedeshah to maintain any kind of unified society or codified laws or beliefs. Line members make every attempt, however, to teach some presumed universal truths and behaviors. Such information is passed along as a function of pseudo-spiritual philosophy and simple pragmatism.

Motherhood of the Dead
The Qedeshah teach one another that they are quite literally meant to be the mothers of Kindred. These women believe that they belong to a singular lineage, one created by the actions of God and the Queen of Heaven. They’re meant to be the matrons of vampire society. It goes beyond that, though. They believe the motherly instinct drives them, their blood literally urging them to act in accord with matronly duties. Even if a Hierodule was raised in a vacuum with no contact with others of the same blood, she would feel the same instinct.

Of course, being a “mother” among Kindred is not only a difficult proposition, it isn’t concretely defined. Technically speaking, motherhood isn’t possible as a vampire. Such parentage is supernatural, not natural, and undead birth can only come from death. The Qedeshah, unlike other Kindred, see these realities not as a denial of maternity, but as a “second chance” at it. Some even see the Embrace as an advanced means of procreation, a form of reproduction that comes with choice and control, whereby parents do not perish and children do not abandon their blood relations.

Regardless of the beliefs and blood-borne impulses of the Hierodules, Kindred society maintains firm disdain — if not violent reproach — for Kindred creating offspring. The Second Tradition, while clearly an oft-ignored convention, can still get Qedeshah destroyed or exiled for their flagrant disavowal. Some women find other ways to express their incontrovertible motherhood. Others are willing to take the chance.

The Embrace
The first — and in a sense the last — choice a Qedeshah comes to in regard to expressing her matronly instinct is the Embrace. Hierodules believe that the Embrace’s mere existence proves that it’s sanctioned by God. Most Qedeshah wish to create many childer, but they recognize that such brazen disregard for the Second Tradition would do them and their progeny little good. Prevailing Kindred society simply precludes such creation. Some, however, defy the Second Tradition as a violation of their rights, both biological and spiritual. Qedeshah who actively snub the Second Tradition tend to Embrace freely and without care. Such a Hierodule may drag only a single mortal into the Requiem over a 10-year period, while another may bring three or four into unlife in a single night. Of course, any Prince or Priscus who catches wind of such treachery is sure to take quick action. Qedeshah who choose to Embrace without caution are often exiled outside of their city or are destroyed outright. Some escape unharmed or are able to hide their children, but such luck doesn’t usually last long.

Eunuchs
The Qedeshah cannot Embrace men. Any attempt to do so fails miserably, and harms the mother as well. The bloodline is still home to a rare few male members, though.

How is this possible? When a Mekhet from outside the bloodline reaches Blood Potency 4 or higher, he may choose to join the ranks of the Qedeshah (provided one of the bloodline allows it).

Unfortunately, such a choice has a grim consequence. Once a male vampire becomes part of the line, his Vitae is sterile and dead. His blood no longer carries the curse; he cannot Embrace or turn mortals into ghouls. His blood functions properly in all other ways, though. He can instigate or become part of Vinculums, he can exhaust blood to heal wounds or activate Disciplines, and he can drink blood and feed his own to others. But no Embrace and no ghouls. (Any pre-existing ghouls or childer remain; they do not explode or disappear in an exhalation of blood.)

Under these circumstances, few men are willing to join the bloodline. The few who have joined over the last several centuries have done so because of those very consequences, hoping to destroy some small part of their awful selves, guaranteeing that they will never be able to drag another into the never-ending horror of the Requiem.

Adoption
Fortunately, many Qedeshah are willing and able to control their urges and restrain themselves from creating offspring left and right. Procreative energy is simply diverted so that a line member may still fulfill her matronly passion. One option is adoption. Ultimately similar to the human practice, it involves a Qedeshah choosing another vampire to be her “child.” Qedeshah usually choose neonates for this role (after all, the term neonate implies infant), and in most cases both vampires agree to this pseudo-familial relationship. And yet, some Qedeshah choose Kindred who may decline the opportunity — or worse, who may not even know that such an opportunity exists. Targeted neonates can be kidnapped and taken away, potentially to a Qedeshah’s haven, where the young vampire is “mothered” by whatever standard the Qedeshah upholds. The reasons for adoption vary. Some Hierodules simply find other vampires that need their aid. Cries for help go a long way toward drawing a Qedeshah’s concern. Many line members came from the lowest levels of mortal society, so are sympathetic to someone with similar needs. A member may even try to rescue a neonate from an abusive or outright sadistic sire (though what the Qedeshah perceives as “sadistic” may be very different from the neonate’s opinion). Most (though not all) adoptions are sealed with the blood bond. The resulting sense of love between the two vampires isn’t precisely genuine, but it helps a Hierodule fill the void.

Ghouls
A lesser form of expressing motherhood involves creating ghouls. Subjects are chosen from any of society’s strata, but most come from the same pool of down-and-outs from which the bloodline’s members might have originated. The poor, the destitute and the used and abused. Curiously, many Qedeshah also choose men as ghouls, if only because they cannot Embrace men into the blood.

Qedeshah ghouls manifest a few subtle but noticeable quirks. Many become meek and seemingly helpless (thus allowing a Hierodule to enact her matronly instincts all the more). Some are also feminized, even men. Female ghouls seem almost exaggerated in walk, voice and demeanor, while males tend toward androgyny. Nobody is precisely sure why this is, but common sense suggests it’s because of the overtly feminine nature and population of the bloodline.

Occasionally, particularly desperate Qedeshah ghoul children, emulating motherhood from life, but also to empower beaten or defeated children to oppose their parents or oppressors.

Degrees of Darkness
On the surface, the Qedeshah are ultimately compassionate beings. They certainly intend to be; motherhood is not meant to involve cruelty or brutality. Most are capable of expressing such gentleness, repressing the darkness of their Kindred souls long enough to attempt some good for other vampires. Acting as surrogate mothers allows them to help the Damned find some kind of center, even aiding all involved to hold onto their Humanity when all else seems lost.

And yet, the road to Hell truly is paved with good intentions. While Hierodules may perceive their motherly intentions as best for all, the sentiment may not be reciprocated. Sometimes maternal instincts get out of hand, doing more harm than good. A Qedeshah who Embraces a handful of teenagers in a given night may overestimate her ability to handle and parent these wayward neophytes. The poor young vampires enter unlife guideless and without the firm hand of a strong mother, which may ultimately get them sent to an untimely demise. Alternately, a Qedeshah who takes a neonate away from an abusive sire may not fully grasp the consequences of her action. Rescuing him may seem right at the time, but it may call all manner of trouble down upon both their heads, even if that trouble comes from the furious sire alone.

Harm done by a forceful mother could also be devastating. Some Hierodules — perhaps old vampires who have long suppressed themselves, or ones who were particularly frail mortals — just can’t handle their compul- sions. Breakdowns may be temporary and last only a few nights, or could last decades. In such a period, a Hierodule takes irrational and even violent actions. A few Qedeshah have actually kidnapped other vampires (again, usually neonates) with the intent of raising them. The mother’s mental faculties are unfit to allow any kind of real care, however. She typically ends up torturing a neophyte psychologically or physically in an effort to express her “love.”

One infamous Hierodule called herself Mother Mary. She didn’t kidnap just one neonate. She traveled from city to city, managing to survive long enough to abduct dozens of newly sired vampires. She finally settled in a country haven, where she conditioned her victims through grueling periods of reward and punishment, pausing long enough to line them up like dolls and dress them in outfits that she had sewed. It took years to track Mary down. By that time her “babies” were too deranged to be fit for Kindred society. Rumor suggests that her awful children are still out there somewhere.

Remaining Hidden
Some vampires are aware of the Qedeshah. The bloodline has not been able to conceal itself completely over the ages. The few elders who remember the Qedeshah believe them to be lunatics. What vampire chooses a path of motherhood, attempting to empower the Curse? Not only are line members regarded as insane, they’re decried as heretics to Kindred society.

It isn’t altogether too difficult for Hierodules to remain hidden. At least, not at first. They tend to mask themselves as Mekhet. The problem of staying hidden arises when a member wanders afield, running afoul of the Second Tradition. A solitary mother who’s determined to protect her own family might turn a blind eye to the persecution of a fellow line member. That isolation is ultimately shortsighted, though. Some elders understand that where there’s one of the line, there could be many, many others, and a purge gets underway. Thus, where one Qedeshah is endangered, solidarity tends to endanger them all. Fortunately for the bloodline, its kind are little known and therefore escape casual notice until some mother over indulges her impulses.

Worship and Veneration
The Hierodules accept that they owe their existence to divine intervention, believing that their bloodline literally spawned from the Vitae of a goddess. Having almost no written account of their beginnings, most of what the bloodline tells its childer is oral legend. This story — which may change in the telling from woman to woman — almost universally includes the goddess as Hebraic in origin and as half the Judeo-Christian God or as a being subservient to Him. Regardless of the story, the current conclusion is that the patron goddess and her offspring (i.e., the Hierodules) serve Yahweh. None are equal to the King of Heaven, and the Queen of Heaven is his second.

In the past, much of this legend was the focal point of the bloodline’s very existence. While motherhood was certainly important, it was possible only because the Queen of Heaven begat the bloodline and gave it purpose. Hierodules were once very spiritual as a result. They engaged in prayer circles, offering praises and hymns to Yahweh and then to Shekhina. Such faith was not only encouraged, but expected.

Over the past hundred years or so, the bloodline has lost some of its devotion, becoming predominantly secular. Most Qedeshah tonight pay lip service to the religious aspects of the line, saying the occasional prayer or using religiously loaded greetings (“May the Mother of Heaven see you safe”), but only elders offer any real piety or devotion anymore.

This transition has occurred in part because modern vampire society is overcrowded. Venerating such ancient and syncretic beliefs would reveal Qedeshah for who they are. Some Qedeshah also maintain ties to the more common practices of Judaism and Christianity. Achieving some small piety in these overarching religions at least helps a Hierodule show deference to her supposed origins. By venerating Yahweh in a more common and unexceptional manner, she is still able to offer faith to God the Father, while remaining safely in the larger fold.

Ultimately, the rigorous religious beliefs of elders and the diffused practices of the young majority has caused something of a schism in the bloodline. The rift has yet to cause the Qedeshah any lasting harm, but it may bring trouble given enough time and conflict.

Rituals and Beliefs
The full regimen of the bloodline’s doctrines has been lost to the ages. Elders are incapable of remembering them, and the young Qedeshah don’t care enough to practice them. A few customs are perpetuated, mostly by elders, and some modern Hierodules take the time to pick and choose from these as befits their Requiem.

• Offer prayers and libations first to Yahweh, the Lord Father
• Offer hymns and incense second to Shekhina, the Queen of Heaven
• The Embrace is holy and sanctioned by God. To not Embrace is to defy God.
• Anoint your children’s foreheads with a tincture of blood and oil
• Never kill a human in hunger. Motherhood brings life, not death.

A few Qedeshah also practice strange, more extreme rituals. Some elders cut themselves once a month, letting Vitae spill in an effort to simulate the menstrual cycle. Others may feed on only children and infants in hopes of growing more “in touch” with their maternal instincts.

Some also establish small altars to the Queen of Heaven in their havens. These shrines take many forms: wooden pillars with female figures carved in them, clay fertility figures and even icons representing the biblical Mary.

Sanctuary
One practice that remains strong in the bloodline is the maintenance of “sanctuary.” A sanctuary is meant to be a safe house for condemned Kindred (usually women, though not necessarily). This vampiric “halfway house” is a communal haven established by an old Qedeshah (called Dea Nutrix, or “nurse goddess”) as a place for victimized Kindred.

If a Qedeshah finds a neonate who suffers torture at the hands of his sire, she may offer him succor in the form of sanctuary. Some Hierodules don’t ask, acting on the principle that some beings simply don’t know what’s best for them. With that in mind, a Qedeshah abducts the vampire in a supposed act of “goodwill” and “motherhood.”

The conditions required for a Kindred to be allowed entry into a sanctuary are subjective, given to the whims and interests of the founding Qedeshah. One may believe that an ancillae hunted by the Lancea Sanctum as a heretic deserves asylum, while another may feel that such a reckless creature warrants whatever suffering he brings down upon himself. If terms of welcome into a sanctuary are too broad, vampires crowding together could lead to blood-soaked conflict. Needless to say, doors are always opened to fellow Hierodules, especially when they and their childer are subject to a blood hunt.

Some Qedeshah create sanctuaries away from cities, but near some kind of blood source, like a town. A remote sanctuary might be founded at an old hotel, a derelict schoolhouse or even in an abandoned mine. Distance from cities offers some respite for refugees, but also little avenue for escape if inhabitants are hunted down. Sanctuaries established in cities could be located anywhere: the sub-basement of a tenement, deep within an old subway tunnel, or in a well-guarded mansion should a Dea Nutrix be wealthy (or cruel enough to take the place from its mortal occupants). Such urban retreats are often launch points for refugees. They can’t stay (too many vampires in one place would reveal the location), but escapes from undead authorities can be prepared and initiated from these sites.

Sanctuaries aren’t strictly halfway houses, though. They serve as general meeting places for line members. Gatherings are usually held on holy days. Services were once overtly religious, but are now opportunities for Qedeshah to drop all pretense and be what they believe themselves to be — mothers. Meetings also allow them to teach other, newly sired Hierodules exactly what such a calling means, and what’s involved in offering motherhood to accursed creatures.

Of course, some sanctuaries are not the places of peace and safety that they’re advertised to be. They’ve been twisted into menageries by Qedeshah mad with the urge to procreate. Such locales are less about asylum and more about trapping “pretty bugs” in a jar so that the presiding Dea Nutrix can take care of them.

In the last decade, several cities throughout Europe, the Americas and Australia have received immigrants from India. Hideous vampires called Rakshasas, who have petitioned Princes to accept them among local Kindred. Although few in number, these self-styled “Demons” present themselves as members of a large bloodline, a Nosferatu offshoot so old and pervasive that Indian Kindred treat it as a clan unto itself.

Hindu, mortal mythology describes rakshasas as a sort of demon. The horrific and evil monsters of those stories are deadly enemies of humanity and the gods themselves. They supposedly exercise their murderous malice with the help of a power to assume both human and animal form. The Indian Nosferatu claim they are the inspiration for the legend.

Vampiric Demons can fight as well as their mythical namesakes, and proudly claim the rank of Kshatriya (warrior) in the Hindu caste system. Indeed, some emigrants have traded on their martial prowess. Rakshasas who have taken up physical professions such as bodyguard or Hound distinguish themselves through great courage and loyalty. Others, however, offer to sell Kindred access to the realm of influence these vampires have established: shipping, specifically of the undead. Kindred who want to smuggle cargo into or out of a city can hire the Rakshasas and their ghoul minions. The Demons also claim they can safely ship other Kindred anywhere in the world… though few vampires are brave or trusting enough to accept the offer. Meanwhile, most Rakshasas seem genuinely concerned about building a reputation for honest dealings.

Covenants: The covenants in India bear no relation to those known in Europe and the Americas. Rakshasas who come west describe themselves as Kshatriyas, or members of a warrior caste. In India, castes seem to play a role among the undead not unlike they do with mortals.

Of all western societies, the Lancea Sanctum offers the least to Demons and treats them with antipathy. The immigrants do not believe Sanctified quasi-Christian myths about the origin and purpose of vampires. I will strive to obey your laws, but I must fulfill other duties as well.

The Invictus and Carthians treat the Rakshasas as just one more faction to recruit in their political and business struggles. Members of both groups cultivate alliances with Demons in hopes of monopolizing their shipping services. Some Acolytes want to learn the mysticism of the East, though the Rakshasas pay little heed to magic. The Ordo Dracul likewise sees the Demons as possible routes to whatever occult lore the Kindred of India might possess. As yet, few western Rakshasas show much interest in joining the covenants, remaining unaligned.

Appearance: These Nosferatu tend toward grotesquely inhuman appearance, extreme even by their parent clan’s standards. Rakshasas have skin colored pustulent yellow, rotten green or bruised blue. Their arms or legs may be too long or too short for their bodies, while their claws and fangs never retract.

Rakshasas often carry a dagger, a custom borrowed from mortal Sikhs as a means of demonstrating their status as warriors. While they may adopt turbans on formal occasions, emphasizing their difference from other Nosferatu, these immigrants prefer modern business suits (tailored for their misshapen forms) to traditional Indian garb.

Haven: The aristocratic Demons refuse to dwell in filth. Crypts and abandoned cellars are the humblest havens a line member may accept. Rakshasas who have enough talent at Obfuscate to pass for human may dwell in posh hotels, handsome townhouses or mansions. The Rakshasas say that back in India, their elders and leaders dwell in ancient palaces, fortresses, temples and royal tombs. Demons with sufficient skill at Protean often sleep while melded into earth or stone, but prefer to rest in the wall or floor of a pleasant, well-appointed haven.

Background: All Rakshasas come from the Indian subcontinent, particularly southern India and Sri Lanka. Players should consider what specific circumstance prompted a character to make the difficult passage to a distant land. The few line members Embraced in the West come from mortal stock of Indian descent, though this tendency results in part from mere propinquity; Demons tend to dwell among their mortal countrymen and favor them as vampires and ghouls.

Most would-be Demons spend several years as ghouls before being Embraced. Rakshasas value hard work and street smarts, as well as aggression and ambition. They select their servants, and therefore their childer, from the full range of mortal society. In life, many Rakshasas were laborers, petty tradesmen, beggars, gang members or outright criminals. Other Demons select childer from the police or military, as the modern warrior elite. Like their parent clan, however, Rakshasas sometimes use the Embrace to punish mortals who take great pride in their looks, standing or wealth. Such nascent line members must endure years of humiliation and abuse, and must work twice as hard as any other childe to gain acceptance in the lineage.

Organization: Western cities seldom see more than three or four Rakshasas at a time. As these immigrants are quick to admit, they’re fortune hunters or refugees. Back in India, the bloodline has fallen into a feud so vicious that migrant Demons prefer the risk of transcontinental travel. Brood members tend to have at least one ghoul servant, while some keep multiple ghouls as well as assorted blood bound, mortal minions. (In part, this is simply because a vampire needs such servants to travel.) Most Rakshasas maintain contact with sires or older Demons back in India, who coordinate the bloodline’s fledgling transportation network. Modern communications technology lets members stay in contact around the world.

A city’s Rakshasas work closely with each other, even if individuals join coteries of other vampires. They even share their ghouls, as a common asset of their private corporation.

Character Creation: Mental Attributes and Skills are often primary among Demons who are entrepreneurial, all the better to recognize opportunities or to create them where they don’t exist. Social traits are important to those line members who seek the wider world, so that they may ply their trade among the Kindred. The failings of their Blood might make deal-making a challenge, but Rakshasas seem to believe that the quality of their services wins out where their own demeanor founders. Physical traits may be primary to those Demons who pursue their martial calling first and foremost, putting emphasis on personal combat before ranged combat. No matter what, Physical Attributes and Skills are at least secondary among line members when another class of trait takes precedence.

Haven is an important Merit for Demons, specifically Location or Size. Retainer is also common in the form of ghoul servants who may or may not receive the Embrace one night.

Of course, if a Nosferatu of Indian heritage is to join the bloodline shortly after the Embrace, two dots of Blood Potency are required. It is highly unlikely that a non-Indian Haunt would be accepted into the line.

Concepts: Loan shark, urban legend, warrior poet, guardian monster, guru, spy, modern Robin Hood, security consultant, man about town, personal-combat trainer, tech-support night manager, gambling-den proprietor, former professional athlete

History
According to legends told by Indian mortals, the god Brahma made the rakshasa-demons from his foot. Indian vampires consider this story allegorical at best. Eastern Kindred tell several myths about their origin, all just as unverifiable as the legends of western undead.

Most Rakshasas believe their bloodline descends from the arch-demon Ravana, the legendary king of their race. The story of Ravana and his struggles against the gods is told in the Ramayana and other myths. The Ramayana says the hero Rama, an incarnation of the god Vishnu, killed the Demon Emperor using an arrow fashioned by the creator-god Brahma. Vishnu incarnated as a mortal because Ravana used magic to become invulnerable to gods, beasts and all the powers of nature, but not to mere men.

Because Rama was actually a god and used a god’s weapon, however, the Rakshasas say his victory was a deception. Once the gods bent their own rules, the demons could too, and became flesh and spirit. They could incarnate as mortals and then regain their demonic powers through the Embrace. Ravana is said to have been the first to reincarnate this way, transforming into a vampire through his own spiritual power. He became the first Rakshasa vampire, and supposedly one of the first Kindred. The Rakshasas say the other Nosferatu bloodlines in India split off from Ravana’s brood. His brother Kumbhakarna became the first of the Sudra, or common Nosferatu. Prominent Rakshasa sub-lineages claim descent from Ravana’s son Meghanada, his sister Surpanakha, and his minister Maricha.

The Rakshasas believe Ravana ruled their bloodline-caste for more than a thousand years, and Demons ruled the night in southern India.

The Kshatriya Ascendance
In truth, the Rakshasas cannot prove they existed before a thousand years ago. As with all Kindred, their early records have been corrupted through self-serving forgery and revision, or were destroyed in ancient conflicts. Their legends first intersect mortal history in 500 B.C., when India underwent political and religious turmoil. Around that time, India’s mortal Kshatriya aristocracy adopted Buddhism and suppressed the Brahmins’ religious authority. Kindred tradition holds that this period saw great strife among Indian vampires.

The bloodline was confined to southern India. The Rakshasas fought a long series of battles with other clans and bloodlines to become the dominant lineage of the region. The Rakshasas’ traditions say they Embraced mortals from aristocratic families, and so were Kshatriyas from birth and from the “second birth” of the Embrace. Many Rakshasas also clung to Buddhism from their mortal existence. Indeed, the bloodline preserves a substantial body of legend about members who became “wrathful protectors,” battling monsters and demons on behalf of mortal monasteries, and even escaping undeath through Buddhist devotion (which is perhaps the origin of the Kindred myth of Golconda, which bears the name of an Indian city).

And yet, other accounts claim the early Rakshasas were vicious, almost mindless beasts that roamed the forests and villages, slaughtering mortal prey at whim. The stories say that in the centuries before the Common Era, undead Brahmins trained some Rakshasas into a reasonable approximation of civilized humanity. These disciples founded the Rakshasa lineage of southern India.

Regardless of content, all of these accounts date from centuries later, and credit the undead Brahmins with all the achievements of Kindred society in Indian. Whatever the truth of their origins, the Rakshasas spread from southern India until they dwelled throughout the subcontinent. Their expansion occurred through adoption as much as through the Embrace. Many Nosferatu are said to have joined the line and contributed their own childer to its growth. The lineage used the promise of higher rank to recruit low-caste Nosferatu as warriors for the cause.

The Brahminical Revival
After A.D. 400, Buddhism lost its grip in India and Hinduism reasserted itself — but a Hinduism extensively rewritten to favor Brahmins. The caste system hardened for Kindred as well as kine. For the next four centuries, Brahmin vampires mobilized other Hindu undead to suppress the Buddhist Rakshasas and install Hindu Rakshasas as local leaders. Rakshasa tradition claims that at that time the Brahmins had mastered the potent blood magic that became their hallmark and key to power. (Brahmin Kindred, meanwhile, claim they always possessed it.)

As Brahmin vampires achieved greater power in Indian cities, they discouraged the practice of adoption between bloodlines. Nosferatu (and other Kindred) who dwelled in villages continued the custom, but India’s urban undead came to regard it as indecent… unless sanctioned by a Brahmin. In fact, the Brahmins established an opposing custom of expelling bloodline members who disgraced themselves by violating their caste duty, or by showing insufficient respect for Brahmins. Through a variation on the adoption ritual, a Brahmin with powerful blood could strip a Kindred’s Blood power, turning him back into an ordinary member of his clan. Such degraded Kindred were deemed Untouchable. The most powerful blood-magicians could even curse disinherited vampires to force them into new Untouchable bloodlines of their own.

Rakshasa immigrants to the West cannot provide any details on this potent rite. The Brahmins supposedly keep it even more closely guarded than the rest of their blood magic, assuming it exists at all or the secret has not been lost altogether.

New Invasions
The Rakshasas paid little heed to the early Muslim invasions of India, which began as early as the eighth century A.D. In the 13th century, however, Demons in the Sultanate of Delhi began Embracing Muslims, and many old line members converted. Rakshasa tradition ascribes spreading conversion to a Muslim holy man who showed the supremacy of his faith by requesting the Embrace, and then restoring his own humanity. This saint, remembered as Nur-al-Hayy (“Light of Life”), also performed various other miracles before he disappeared as mysteriously as he had appeared. Continued Muslim invasions and conquests, such as Timur’s sack of Delhi and Babar the Great’s founding of the Mughal Empire, led to more northern Rakshasas accepting Islam. They saw it as a faith of conquerors. Smaller numbers of Demons converted to Sikhism, a new faith combining aspects of Hinduism and Islam, and which enjoined all men to consider themselves warriors.

The 16th century saw a new factor enter Indian politics, when the Portuguese and other Europeans established trading posts such as Goa. India’s Kindred largely ignored such visitors until the 18th century, when the British subjugated Indian kingdoms. In response, the Kindred of many domains attempted a campaign to expel the British as defiling foreign conquerors. Once again, the Rakshasas clashed with several Brahmin bloodlines. Demon elders saw the Brahmins’ call for a pan-Indian alliance of vampires as a scheme to subvert Rakshasa independence. Although Demon groups had fought over hunting territory and prestige for centuries, they found a common purpose in asserting their right to fight each other free of Brahmin interference. The Rakshasas also fought against other Kshatriya lineages that joined the Brahmins for reasons of their own. Such infighting (the Rakshasas were hardly the only group to oppose the plan) rendered local Kindred irrelevant to India’s war for independence. Many vampires supported the movement against colonialism, but they did not drive the struggle or play a crucial role.

The 20th Century
The infighting of the 19th century led to a powerful alliance of Rakshasa leaders in southern India. This pact sought a return to tradition in the face of cultural change among Kindred and kine. For instance, the new Indian government supported British attempts to break down the mortal caste system, which led to some young Kindred to challenge the old ways as well. Although Rakshasa elders welcomed any movement that weakened Brahmin authority, they did not want to accept undead from lower castes as equals. Elders also condemned the minority of Rakshasas who supported the undead Brahmins’ anti-colonial campaign, saying they were not worthy of Ravana’s blood. Some pro-Brah- min Rakshasas had been adopted from other Nosferatu stock, or descended from adopted sires or grandsires — enough of them for elders to link adoption with disloyalty and impure blood.

Naturally, proud Rakshasas resisted attempts to be degraded into second-class members of their bloodline. Some Demons left their cities and returned to the lineage’s tradition of rural hunting. Others schemed with fellow Kindred to overthrow the elders, or to at least reduce their power. Sometimes these plots worked, but they inevitably led to more suspicion in Rakshasa communities.

By 1990, undead conflicts escalated to all-out war. In some cities, Rakshasa elders sought to destroy all Demons who lacked a sufficiently ancient pedigree. Others offered Demons of “impure” blood amnesty — if they would submit to blood bonds. Young Rakshasas fled north if they could, but other Indian cities were already overcrowded, and existing residents did not care for the upstart newcomers.

The most desperate Rakshasa tried to leave India altogether. Some already owned or exploited trading companies. They used their cargo vessels, ghouls and mercantile connections to ship themselves out of the country, risking everything for a chance in a new land. The first would-be expatriates suffered Final Death as often as they succeeded, but each Rakshasa who sent word of his success back to his allies inspired a dozen more to seek their fortune abroad.

The journey west remains dangerous, but the Rakshasa gradually become better at it with practice. The full implications of this diaspora remain to be seen — as does the potential emergence of a system that enables vampires to cross continents.

Society and Culture
Until recently, as the undead reckon such things, western Kindred weren’t sure India had vampires. Thus, they feel they cannot take anything about the Rakshasas for granted. Demons do not display any supernatural powers unknown to western vampires, but their culture presents many puzzles… and what seems straightforward often becomes strange when looked at more closely. The Rakshasas say they are warriors, but they do not merely fight mortals or other vampires. They claim to exist to fight the gods themselves.

Caste And Dharma
Hinduism divides humanity into five classes technically called varnas (“colors”), but they’re more often called castes. Not only does Hinduism forbid intermarriage between castes, but people born into a particular caste can perform only certain types of work. Other occupations defile them. Each varna includes numerous specific castes and sub-castes. Some represent occupations, while others began as tribes, religious sects or other divisions. One ethnologist compared the caste system to dividing the population of Britain into “families of Norman descent, clerks in Holy Orders, noblemen, positivists, iron-mongers, vegetarians, communists and Scotsmen.”

Priestly Brahmins perform sacrifices and claim most of the educated professions for themselves.

Kshatriyas were the land-owning, warrior aristocracy of old India, and rivals of the Brahmins as India’s ruling caste. After centuries of religious and political conflict, the Brahmins eradicated the old Kshatriya families. Over the centuries, however, the Brahmins awarded Kshatriya status to one conquering military elite after another as a way to curry favor with the new ruling class.

Vaisyas began as farmers and tradesmen. They eventually claimed many of the middle class, mercantile and artisan occupations.

Sudras are peasants and menial laborers.

The Pariahs or Untouchables consist of all the people (and their descendants) who have fallen off the bottom of the caste system: aboriginal tribes; non-Hindus; criminals; slaves; the offspring of forbidden, inter-caste unions; and people who perform jobs the Brahmins thought especially degrading, such as sweepers and garbage men. The very lowest castes were believed to defile high-caste people by proximity or merely by being seen.

Brahminism defines separate and distinct codes of conduct and ethics, called dharmas, for each of the castes. A Brahmin who acts like a Sudra sins as greatly as a Sudra who acts like a Brahmin. Indeed, deviation from caste duty threatens the very order of the cosmos. The world will end when it reaches a state of complete adharma, when no one obeys the purity taboos and codes of conduct set by their castes.

Jainism, Buddhism and ascetic Hinduism challenged the caste system by positing universal dharmas: codes of conduct, ethics and supernatural merit that applied to all people, regardless of caste. Even Demons could gain merit as ascetics, or convert to Buddhism and turn their violent natures to good use as “wrathful protectors” or “guardians of the dharma.” Islam and Christian converts rejected the caste system, but it has survived every challenge.

Indian Kindred possess their own versions of the mortal castes. Each clan possesses lineages in one caste or another. The Rakshasas began as a Kshatriya division of the Indian Nosferatu. Other Haunts belonged to other castes. After centuries or millennia of separation, bloodlines barely recognize each other as members of the same clan. To a large degree, castes take the place of covenants for Indian vampires.

The Dharma of Demons
Some Kindred wonder how creatures who consider themselves actual demons can treat their fellow Rakshasas and other Kindred with honor. Rakshasas appear in tales as murderous monsters, eagerly committing every crime imaginable against mortals and gods. The Rakshasas do not deny such portrayals. They say that as demons, their dharma or caste duty is to prey on the living and to fight the gods. As warriors, however, they have a duty to show martial virtues of courage, loyalty and honesty to their own kind… and they say all vampires are demons. Their creed says the Rakshasas were incarnated into mortal flesh for a time, but the Embrace revealed their true nature, as their destiny foreordained. Other Kindred merely retain a greater semblance of humanity, but none of them were ever really human. After Final Death, Rakshasas believe they may reincarnate as higher creatures, such as mortals of higher caste, if they fulfill their dharmas in undead existence.

As enemies of the right and proper order of the world, Rakshasas know they should try to work evil and disrupt mortal institutions. In practice, they know that constant savagery toward mortals would quickly send them into the madness of the Beast. Their creed describes feral behavior as full acceptance of vampires’ demonic nature, a fulfillment of their dharma (which makes it right for other Rakshasas to destroy a rampaging vampire, so he can pass to his next incarnation). In practice, most Rakshasas seek to delay this holy consummation while paying lip service to it as a goal.

Rakshasas can attack the world by other means than murder, though. Orthodox Hinduism sets forth a sacred order in which everyone takes his father’s occupation, obeys authority and observes the rituals and taboos that sustain reality. Violating that order threatens reality itself. A Rakshasa can strike against the gods by disrupting a religious ceremony, or by leading a mortal to act like someone from another caste. Crime, rebellion and chaos all bring the world closer to ruin.

Indian philosophy also lends Demons the notion of universal dharma, which can counteract caste dharma. Indian Kindred have developed a large body of moral philosophy on how to resist the Beast while remaining technically evil. Every Rakshasa seeks his own balance between the universal dharma of maintaining Humanity, and the caste dharma of performing evil. For instance, a Rakshasa struggling to resist frenzy might pit greed against the Beast by concentrating on the financial harm he can cause. Another Rakshasa might turn “Robin Hood,” using crime to attack the distinction between rich and poor, a distinction much valued by the rich.

The mortal world doesn’t care as much about caste taboos and religious rituals as it once did. Emigrant Rakshasas react to modern society in a variety of ways. Some believe their traditional duty is irrelevant in the West. In a society with no castes, where people value self-expression instead of keeping their place, where mass media celebrates greed and lust, and faith is a lifestyle choice, what’s left for a demon to do? Like many immigrants, they try to assimilate into their new land as quickly as possible, perpetuating the sins already performed there.

Other Rakshasas continue their traditional practices as best they can. Many American and European cities now have Indian minorities and at least a small Hindu temple. A Demon can torment people from the old country, vandalize the temple and spread chaos in the community.

Still other Rakshasas believe the West has its own gods and dharmas — different from India’s, but just as sacred to western mortals. These Demons believe their duty lies in attacking and subverting the sacred order of western culture, whatever it may be. Business, politics, public morals — all have their own codes of virtue and disgrace. Instead of killing a prince a vampire can rig an election. Instead of vandalizing a church, he can cause a schism in the congregation. He can spread chaos by destroying reputations and trust in institutions.

Demons cunning enough to evolve such schemes are usually clever enough to realize how much western Kindred depend on mortal institutions. An immigrant doesn’t tell Kindred that he intends to bankrupt the Prince’s corporation, or ruin the reputation of the Ventrue Primogen’s city councilman. Once the brave, honest and very polite Rakshasa gathers his own power base, other Kindred simply suffer a shock when they learn how that power base is applied.

Career Changes
A Rakshasa’s activities and occupations depend on his mastery of Obfuscate. Without that Discipline, no Demon can pass for human. Seen in his true form, he terrifies mortals and breaks the Masquerade. Such a scandal matters somewhat less in India than in the West, since many mortals there still believe in evil spirits of monstrous appearance. Until a Rakshasa learns to cloud the mind and delude the eye, he cannot engage in any normal activity among mortals.

Thus, before they master Obfuscate, many Rakshasas exist as pure predators, completely cut off from human society. They may stalk the countryside, relying on Haven of Soil to shield them from the day, or they may slink through the night as urban terrors. Young Rakshasas work especially hard to gain acceptance among other vampires, because other Kindred provide the only social interaction they may enjoy. A Demon can act through blood-bound mortal proxies, but overseeing ghouls is a poor substitute for a calling of one’s own. A few Rakshasas find companionship as well as feeding stock by setting themselves up as the demon-gods of blood cults, but the tradition-minded frown on the practice. It strikes them as more suitable for Brahmins than for warriors.

Once a Rakshasa gains proficiency with Obfuscate, he may at least move among the kine unseen. Some Demons find solace in being near people. Others find that walking among mortals, unseen and ignored, makes them feel all the more isolated. A Rakshasa’s choice of havens expands, though, once he can enter and leave without fear of mortals seeing him.

Rakshasa tradition teaches childer to accept their complete separation from humanity, because they were never really human to begin with. Nevertheless, Demons who learn The Familiar Stranger often devote great effort to creating an ersatz mortal identity. Then a line member can dwell in a comfortable, somewhat public haven, with mitigated concerns of exposure (except for preventing mortals from seeing him asleep during the day). Demons take great pride in their power to pass for human. Rakshasas can spend years practicing their social graces with other vampires so that they can pose as gentlemen and ladies once they rejoin mortal society.

You Can’t Show Your Face In Public
Playing a Rakshasa (or any other vampire who cannot pass for human) presents special challenges. Such characters cannot interact with mortals as much as other vampires can. A number of strategies may help Rakshasas function when showing their face means breaking the Masquerade.

• Blood Cults: Some Hindu gods take a monstrous appearance at times. A daring Demon might be able to convince Indian immigrants that he’s an incarnation of a god, recruiting them to a blood cult. This gives the Rakshasa a pool of mortal lackeys, as well as a Herd. Running a blood cult takes as much work as running a business. Or a clever Demon might run his cult as a business, combining the roles of company owner and god.
• Concealment: Unfortunately, people who wear masks or bandages all the time attract more attention than a vampire would like. Wearing a ski mask and an oversized coat, and sticking to dark rooms and alleys may enable brief contact with mortals.
• Coteries: A Rakshasa really needs allies among other Kindred. A coterie can explain the customs and etiquette of western vampires, so the Demon won’t cause offense through ignorance. When a Rakshasa absolutely needs something done among mortals, it helps if he can ask another vampire to do it for him. A wise Rakshasa seeks every opportunity to do favors in advance, using whatever assets and abilities he has.
• Ghouls: A ghoul doesn’t care how his master looks. A Demon can use a ghoul Retainer as his proxy for dealing with mortals. Prudent Rakshasas treat their ghouls well (or at least watch them closely) to forestall any chance of resentment or rebellion. The danger is that a ghoul character may become more active and interesting than the vampire character.
• Urban Legend: Many regions have persistent legends of monstrous humanoid creatures such as the Mothman, the Jersey Devil or Spring-Heeled Jack. A clever vampire might deliberately create such a legend by showing himself to drunks or known tellers of tall tales, giving them a harmless scare and perhaps pulling an odd prank or two. Once the tale is established, the authorities probably discount any further reports of the vampire.

Warrior-Merchants
Rakshasas know how to fight. They prove it when they meet hostile receptions in the West. The Demons escape more often than not, and then take lethal revenge on their attackers before departing for some other city. Like most Nosferatu, they combine great strength with supernatural stealth, but Rakshasas add the bestial prowess of Protean as well.

When immigrants come to town, they don’t look for fights. They show utmost courtesy when petitioning a Prince for the right of residence. Quite often, they send a ghoul ahead to make an initial request. Once accepted into a Prince’s domain, Demons often go into business with the help of their servants.

Many Rakshasas plan to form a loose mercantile co-op, centered on India and extending around the world. Colonies usually include at least one Demon or ghoul who works to set up a shipping business. In addition to legitimate cargo, Rakshasa-owned companies smuggle everything from counterfeit clothing to pirated DVDs to people. The vampires form a small but growing syndicate within the billion-dollar racket of smuggling illegal migrants from Third World countries. The profits are secondary, however, to the experience gained at moving bodies covertly. The capabilities they develop at moving mortals help them move Kindred.

Rakshasas smuggle themselves along with mortal cargo, and offer the same services to Kindred who want to travel. They charge thousands of dollars for transportation (as well as promises of favors in return). A Rakshasa “travel agent” does his best to provide lightproof hiding places for sleeping through the day, and a ghoul steward to deal with emergencies, to bribe customs officials when necessary, and to see to a traveler’s comfort. Sometimes Demons send Kindred with a group of mortal migrants. The kine make excellent provisions along the way, and no one complains if a few don’t survive the trip. A long journey may require a partnership between Rakshasa shippers in different cities, but modern communications makes that easy to arrange.

As yet, only the most desperate Kindred entrust themselves to the hideous strangers from the East. Anyone who questions the Demons closely learns they haven’t perfected their travel arrangements. Kindred shipped around the world still face great danger from customs officials, accidental exposure to sunlight and other hazards. Not everyone shipped by a Demon survives. If the Rakshasas can perfect their techniques for smuggling vampires, the bloodline will have a powerful and precious service to vend.

Kindred who dig a little deeper find the Rakshasa network incongruous. Line members describe themselves as warriors — aristocrats, even — but India’s caste tradition does not regard commerce as a suitable occupation for knights or lords. The Rakshasas point out that moving people and goods is logistics, one of the military sciences. A Demon who engages in other sorts of commerce must also find some military aspect to it, or he loses the respect of his brood. Demons also claim that smuggling adds criminality to their work, and therefore an element of danger.

Modern India
The Rakshasas seen in western cities are a small fraction of the bloodline. Most stay on the Indian subcontinent, their culture, history and conflicts unseen and unknown to western Kindred. Their greatest strength lies in southern India. In their homeland, Rakshasas follow a quasi-feudal hierarchy, with ranks analogous to squires, knights and nobles.

• Rajah: All the Rakshasas of a province bow to an elder called a Rajah, who combines the role of Priscus with some powers of a Prince. The Rajah adjudicates disputes and orders punishments for members of the line. He also allocates hunting territories, along with promotions of rank. In many parts of southern India, the Rajah is a Prince for all practical purposes, and Kindred acknowledge his rule. In other provinces, the Rajah merely serves as leader and spokesman for local Rakshasas, with no authority over any other vampire.
  Occasionally, a Rakshasa gains enough power or reputation to force other Rajahs to swear fealty to her. These higher nobles adopt imperial titles such as Sultan or Nizam. The little “empire” may encompass several cities, but such a realm seldom lasts for more than a few decades before the difficulties of travel and command break it up. No Rakshasa in a thousand years has dared to call himself Maharajah. Only Ravana himself may claim the title of Demon Emperor.
• Nawab: Respected elder Rakshasas receive this aristocratic title. Nawabs, as the principle vassals of the Rajah, receive limited authority over young, low-ranked Demons. They allocate feeding territories and decide when a childe receives promotion to neonate status and full membership in the bloodline.
• Praharan: The title for the lowest rank of Rakshasa society translates variously as “fighter,” “hero,” “murderer,” “destroyer” or “debaser.” It corresponds loosely to a western neonate. A Rakshasa childe starts by serving his sire, much like he did as a ghoul, and remains almost a slave until his sire grants him the rank of Praharan. Sometimes, a Nawab or the Rajah himself may order a childe’s promotion if a sire is unreasonable in recognizing his progeny’s competence.
  A Praharan owes many duties to his sire, like a squire to a knight. The neonate must show respect; assist his sire in battle; tithe a fraction of any loot he acquires; and accept whatever feeding territory his sire grants, subject only to the will of the Rajah. War-loot matters less in modern nights than it once did. Modern Rakshasas observe the tradition by saying a Praharan must give his sire a cut of any profits, however obtained.
  Once a Rakshasa becomes a squire, he can petition a Nawab or Rajah to transfer his fealty from his sire to some other Demon. This is a small loss of face for the young vampire, since it implies disloyalty or weakness, but it also marks the sire as a martinet who treats childer as if they were mere ghouls. A proper knight shows respect for the warriors under his command.
• Rawal: A Rakshasa gains full independence and responsibility for his actions when a Rajah promotes him to Rawal, or knight. This never happens until a Demon learns the rudiments of Protean. Demons may have to wait decades for this promotion, making most of them ancillae by western standards. Neonates who cannot or will not accept their bloodline’s powers and costs remain squires forever, or risk expulsion to become Untouchable outcastes (unless some other Nosferatu bloodline adopts them).

Although India’s cities hold the greatest concentration of Rakshasas, line members depend less on urban prey than do many eastern Kindred. Once a Rakshasa learns the Haven of Soil power, he can hunt in India’s myriad villages, or out in the country. Demons esteem sojourns in the wilderness as tests of hunting skill and courage. Their willingness to travel extends Rakshasa domains from single cities to whole provinces. Kindred who fear being caught without a haven — even among India’s close-packed villages — often hire Rakshasa couriers when a mission is too important to entrust to a ghoul.

Not all Rakshasas can claim an equally prestigious heritage. The more generations back a Rakshasa can trace his private lineage, the more pure and noble is his blood. Other Nosferatu can petition to join the Rakshasas, but they never achieve any formal rank higher than a junior knighthood, and they never receive the same respect as a Rakshasa by Embrace. Indeed, their childer also receive less respect from elders. In southern India, any Rakshasa whose parentage in the bloodline extends back less than a thousand years may be derided as “new blood” by Demons with longer pedigrees.

And that’s why young Rakshasas leave the homeland. In the last 200 years, the bloodline has split into higher and lower subcastes. Conflicts with other clans and castes has weakened the bonds of loyalty. In province after province, the elite of “old Rakshasas” — or as they like to say, “true Rakshasas,” supposedly descended from Ravana or other legendary founders of the line — systematically exclude “new Rakshasas” from councils, deny them promotions, honors and financial opportunities, and assign them the worst hunting territories. Allies among Kindred Brahmins endorse the elders’ claims of pure blood and perpetual dominance.

Such insults outrage Demons of recent origins, especially neonates whose attitudes have been shaped by a century of mortal efforts to end the caste system. Night-time wars of assassination have erupted between Rakshasa factions as a result.

The Diaspora
As the civil war has escalated, some Rakshasas have decided they’ve had enough. Why waste their unlives fighting for scraps of hunting ground? Southern India isn’t the world. Mere mortals have left India in droves to seek their fortunes abroad. Should the heirs of Ravana, the greatest enemy of the gods, fear to follow? The first emigrants had tremendous courage. No vampire in memory had dared to cross oceans or continents. The success of survivors encouraged more to follow, including Muslim and Sikh Rakshasas grown weary with their second-class rank in Brahmin-dominated cities. Young Rakshasas often require the help of wealthier, older Demons to leave India and establish their companies. In return, they send shares of their profits back to their sponsors, enabling elders to fund still more emigrants. The expatriate network grows steadily.

As more Demons flee India, the old Rakshasa elite grows more afraid. Increasing numbers of Rakshasas plow their wealth and influence into the expatriate network. Who knows what allies might be imported from distant lands? Already, sponsors are known to make deals with strange foreign vampires. Other Kindred spread rumors that oppressed young subcastes plan a mass exodus once the travel system can handle dozens of vampires at a time. If the rumors prove true, hundreds of Rakshasas might surge into the West, scattering across dozens of cities. What might happen then is anyone’s guess.

Rakshasa Customs
In their millennial history, Demons have accumulated an elaborate, courtly culture, most of which expatriates leave behind. Along with the classic military virtues of courage, self-discipline and loyalty, Rakshasas esteem the arts and fine manners. A Demon who spent his living days as a mugger might work mightily to change his accent and at least pretend to appreciate painting and poetry. Rakshasas like to think of themselves as sophisticated monsters.

Each Rajah holds court once a month, typically at the dark of the moon. Rakshasas present their disputes, petition for hunting territories in a city, curry favor, and raise other concerns they feel deserve the bloodline’s attention. The assembly also makes deals and engages in the same sort of intrigue found in any Elysium or Prince’s court. Other Kindred may attend these courts if a Rakshasa sponsors them and takes responsibility for their conduct.

At least once a year, a Rajah hosts a spectacular party for his subjects. These gatherings combine religious rites, blood feasts, music, poetry recitations, contests of Discipline use, athletics and combat prowess. Participants flaunt their grotesquery through gaudy costumes, Obfuscate illusions or ornaments made from parts of their human or animal victims. No Rakshasa is compelled to attend a Rajah’s court, but the yearly festival is the best possible time and place for line members to meet, negotiate and scheme. The Rajah may grant knighthood or Nawab’s rank at the festival. Some Rajahs permit small numbers of other Kindred to attend — a very great honor, although any sponsoring Demon must ask his Rajah’s permission beforehand.

Sires generally wait for the festival to present their childer to the Rajah, acknowledging them as Rakshasas by blood, and to ask for a childe’s promotion to Praharan. Adopted Nosferatu are also inducted during the festival. A new childe stands in a circle of 10 flaming braziers. He recites the story of how Ravana meditated among 10 fires for ten thousand years, and at the end of each thousand years cut off one of his 10 heads and cast it into a fire as an offering to Shiva. Just as the Demon Emperor was about to cut off his final head and destroy himself, the god appeared to grant him the power he desired. As the recently Embraced vampire tells the story, he cuts himself nine times and shakes blood into the braziers. Just as he’s about to cut his own throat, his sire steps in, playing the role of Shiva, and proclaims him a true heir to Ravana. The presiding Rajah then gives the new Rakshasa a taste of his own potent blood, to initiate the vampire’s transition from ordinary Nosferatu to a member of the lineage. Nosferatu of non-Rakshasa origins require a more elaborate ceremony, in which the Rajah or a designated Nawab plays the role of Shiva, and assumes the duty of Avus to give the recruit blood.

The Protean Discipline not only helps distinguish Demons from other Nosferatu, it gives them greater freedom of movement than most Kindred. As a Rakshasa learns each new Protean power, he is expected to demonstrate it before his Rajah or a Nawab. No Rakshasa receives his commission as a Rawal before proving that he knows at least the rudiments of the Discipline. Tradition further holds that once a Demon learns the Haven of Soil power, he should spend a year in the country, hunting beasts and villagers. During this time, the Rakshasa is enjoined to reflect on his existence as a predator and a demonic force of chaos. The Demon also collects trophies of his exploits. This wanderjahr isn’t mandatory, but a Demon who puts it off too long or who cuts it short may gain a reputation for weakness.

Once a Rakshasa graduates to Rawal, he can accumulate other honors based on Disciplines learned, enemies or fierce animals slain (the bloodline has a tradition of hunting for sport as well as for sustenance), or on winning a Rajah’s favor. Each domain has its own system of honors, but titles often refer to gods and legendary Rakshasas. For instance, in Mysore province a Rakshasa who achieves five dots of Vigor is called a Valiant Son of Ravana, while a female Rakshasa who achieves five dots of Nightmare wins the title Handmaiden of Kali. Any Demon of Rawal or higher rank may be addressed as subhadra, or “strong-armed,” a traditional epithet for Ravana as a general term of respect.

Demons see nothing inconsistent in worshipping the gods they claim to oppose. They direct most of their worship to Shiva, the god of enlightenment and destruction, and to the deity’s roles as Rudra, the god of hunting, wild beasts and storms; Bhairava, “the Terrible”; and Mahakala, “Lord Time,” who brings destruction to all things. Ravana is said to have written a collection of hymns to Shiva that remains well known even among mortals. It’s the only known work of Indian Kindred literature to achieve this distinction. Rakshasas also worship Shiva’s consort Shakti in the form of the battle-goddess Durga, and Kali as the Death-Mother. And of course, they revere their progenitor Ravana.

From the frozen shores of Northern Europe to the warm beaches of the Caribbean, tales exist of terrifying invaders from the sea. Attacking without warning and without mercy, the Sea Kings claimed domain over the entire ocean. No coastal community was ever safe. The Sea Kings appeared at night. Ghost ships, emerging from the mists, without any apparent crew. If the townsfolk were lucky, the Sea Kings would be gone before sunrise, leaving a handful dead and a few missing. If the townsfolk were unlucky, the assault could last for weeks.

The Rötgrafen bloodline was founded nearly 1,000 years ago by Sigrún Ericsdottir, a woman who claimed to be the illegitimate daughter of Eric the Red. Through a series of lies, manipulations and outright killings, she was responsible for the deaths of more than two dozen people during an expedition to what is now L’Anse aux Meadows on the Canadian Atlantic coast. Two groups of explorers left Greenland together, determined to settle a rumored paradise discovered by wayward sailors. One group, led by Sigrún and her husband, returned a year later. The second group was never seen again.

Sigrún’s manipulations started innocently enough; she lied just enough to ensure that her crew ended up with the prime location for a settlement. She was, after all, just looking out for those who sailed with her. Her desire for power slowly grew, and as it did, her thoughts darkened. She began to view the second group of settlers not as comrades united in purpose but as rivals, leeching away that which should be hers. Hatred boiled in her chest, much of it focused on the brothers, Sindri and Tryggvi, who were leading the other explorers. And so it was that she set forth one night, alone and unseen, to deliver an ultimatum to the brothers: leave now or die. Sindri and Tryggvi did not react the way Sigrún had envisioned: they scoffed at her and suggested that she cut down on her drinking. Enraged, she stormed back to her own settlement, setting in motion the events that would lead to her eventual damnation. She told her husband that she had gone to visit Sindri and Tryggvi to arrange a feast, but she had overheard them plotting to kill her and all those who followed her. Sigrún demanded vengeance, and she led her sailors as they stormed the other settlement, killing all the men while they were still in bed. However, the sailors’ code of honor prevented them from attacking unarmed Viking women. Completely caught up in a blood fury, Sigrún grabbed an axe and killed the women herself while they huddled together, screaming for mercy.

Sigrún and her followers were eventually forced to flee North America, after her plot to poison indigenous people failed to kill as many of them as she anticipated. During the return voyage, she threatened to kill anyone who mentioned what had happened to Sindri and Tryggvi’s crew. However, some of the men felt ashamed of what they had done, and upon returning to Greenland, confessed their deeds. Sigrún was banished from the island, but it would seem that her reign of carnage was only just beginning.

Sigrún wound up in Norway, where the tales of her crimes preceded her. Her ruthlessness caught the attention of a local Ventrue, and she was Embraced within days of arriving. Unfortunately, her sire did not wait to obtain the local Sanctified Prince’s permission beforehand, and Sigrún found herself banished again, this time lashed to a ship with her sire and cast adrift to meet the morning sun.

A few years later, reports of midnight raids against Sanctified domains started surfacing all over the coast of the Baltic and North Seas./ Eyewitness accounts all mentioned the arrival of a seemingly empty longship, shrouded in mist, floating off the shoreline shortly before the attacks commenced. The raids were well organized, well planned and extremely violent. Kindred were left destroyed, their havens ransacked and their kine hauled away.

These ‘ghost ship’ sightings increased, soon becoming two ships. Then three. Merchant vessels in the area began going missing. And then Sigrún, Ghost Queen of the Baltic, revealed herself. She had amassed what amounted to a small army of followers according to vampire standards, an army that had managed to essentially carve a domain of their own on the open sea. And if the Sanctified didn’t have reason enough to want to hunt her down before, after her tale was told they most certainly did.

Sigrún claimed that as the dawn of her execution approached, she was visited by the god Loki.

He told her that her actions in life amused him, and he was interested in seeing what she could do in unlife.

He said that he would help her survive to see another night if she would offer her service, and the service of all she created, to fight in his army of the unholy dead at Ragnarok, the great battle at the end of the world. He offered her the blood of his own children to seal the pact. Sigrún agreed. The blood of Fenrisulfr, he explained, would enhance her natural ferocity and gift her with the power to shift her form. The blood of Jˆrmungandr would help rejuvenate her corpse and grant her the power to withstand any assault. The blood of his daughter Hel would grant her rightful rule over a great army of the undead. Sigrún drank his offerings willingly and with great relish, and he fed her sire to his children to repay them for their contribution.

Of course, many scholars of modern nights debunk this tale as mere fantasy, suggesting that Sigrún most likely diablerized her sire. They don’t bother trying to explain how she survived in an exposed boat on the open sea, claiming that the winds must have blown her back to shore or somehow managed to get her somewhere protected. Regardless, what is known is that her bloodline, under her direct command, ruled the northern seas for nearly 300 years.

As her fleet grew in size Sigrún realized that she needed direct control over ports to keep the ships seaworthy. Using the gifts of her Ventrue blood, she warped the minds of human leaders and worked to set up her childer as jarls in various Scandinavian coastal communities, posing as direct representatives of the king. The domains of Iceland were visited again and again by her line during the 13th century, and were used as a safe haven whenever the kine organized serious resistance. By the year 1300, the Rötgrafen were terrorizing seafarers all over the coastline of Northern Europe. Sigrún had sired nearly a dozen childer personally, and it appeared that she was on the verge of establishing an impenetrable, lasting power base, ruled exclusively by her bloodline. Then everything fell apart.

Sigrún fell into torpor shortly after the dawning of the 14th century. Her Ventrue blood warred with that of the dark gods of old, and her childer and grandchilder fought amongst themselves to fill the void in the bloodline’s power structure created by her absence. Many ships were lost as the Sanctified took advantage of the infighting to claim revenge. Control of the seas slipped away as her childer pulled back to their individual coastal domains to protect what power they had. The dream of a great conquering army of Kindred vanished completely as individual Rötgrafen, no longer capable of surviving alone, looked to the Invictus and the Circle of the Crone for protection.

Sigrún emerged from torpor more than 200 years later, but the troubled sleep of centuries had changed her. Feeling her blood thinned considerably and confronting a political landscape completely alien to her, she decided it was in her best interests to abandon Europe completely. She told no one where she was headed, but as rumors of ghost ships and vicious, impossibly strong pirates surfaced in the Caribbean, it was obvious where she had gone. The Ghost Queen of the Baltic was in the Americas.

Her activities in the Caribbean followed a pattern similar to her European conquests. She started with ocean-based raiding before expanding to the conquest of port domains. Her style of governance had changed, however, as her impatience for Ragnarok grew. Enamored by the passionate rhetoric of rebellious Kindred around her, she adopted a more democratic system of control, and while she maintained the final word, a significant amount of real power lay in the hands of those who followed her.

She fell back into torpor some time in the 19th century, and much of the framework she established still remains. Rötgrafen elements in the Caribbean were amongst the first open supporters of the Carthian Movement, and many remain in modern nights.

Rumor has it that the Ghost Queen of the Baltic is out of torpor once more, and that once more she has moved to a different part of the world. Some reports claim she is operating in Indonesia, but more reliable sources point to evidence of activity in the American Pacific Northwest. Of course, these reports could just be the result of an increase in activity of the bloodline itself and not necessarily actions directed by Sigrún herself.

Covenant:
Sea Kings generally fall into one of two camps, depending on their location. The vast majority of Rötgrafen in the “New World” are staunch supporters of the Carthian Movement, and have been since the covenant’s inception. Those who are not Carthians are often unaligned, with many operating as ocean-going nomads, sailing between islands and coastal communities.

In Europe, things are somewhat different. When the bloodline began to fragment shortly after Sigrún’s first descent into torpor, the Rötgrafen were left without their spiritual leader, who provided most of their internal organization. As the Sea Kings pulled back to individual cities, the unity of the bloodline was replaced by the protection of the covenants.

A few Sea Kings were absorbed into the Invictus, but most fully believed (and still believe) Sigrún’s account of her encounter with Loki and found the Circle of the Crone to be a more comfortable fit. With dreams of a united empire under Sigrún’s control still fresh in their minds, early Rötgrafen Acolytes adopted a more militant ideology than is usually seen within the Circle. Most European Sea Kings believe it is their duty to be prepared for the end of the world, when they will be called on to fight during Ragnarok, and much of their night-to-night existence is focused on ensuring that they are ready.

In modern nights, Rötgrafen nomads occasionally make the harrowing journey across the Atlantic, and the ideological beliefs of the two Sea King factions are slowly leaking into one another. Areas that have been visited by a nomad fleet will often have individual Sea Kings who are spiritually Acolyte and politically Carthian.

No Sea King has ever joined the Lancea Sanctum, thanks to centuries of mutual hatred and conflict stretching back to the early Middle Ages, when many of the Sanctified bishops decried the Rötgrafen as a heretic cult.

Appearance:
With the exception of Rötgrafen Acolytes, who tend to look as if they have stepped out of a Viking documentary, most Sea Kings favor the elegant appearance of the Ventrue, tempered by their covenant affiliation. Their clothing almost always has a nautical flavor, however, so an Invictus may look as if he just came back from the yacht club while a Carthian could look like more like a longshoreman or a surfer.

A very significant number of Sea Kings also have tattoos, regardless of the fit with the rest of their appearance. The tradition of tattooing has been passed down along the line, originating with its founders. The Vikings and Rus’ who made up much of the early Sea King membership were often tattooed. Acolytes who are strict Votaries of Hel often have extensive black ink tattoos on the right side of their body. The left side is always kept clear. The Sea Kings may be one of the few bloodlines that boasts 200-year-old elders more likely to bear tattoos than the neonates Embraced in the last few years.

Due to the history of the bloodline, most Rötgrafen are of Northern European descent, primarily hailing from the Nordic countries but with ample representation from the Baltic states and Germany. Rötgrafen in the Caribbean tend to be of Dutch or British descent, but there was no particular ethnic preference for siring, and the 17th century saw a wide broadening in the cultural and racial base of the line.

Haven:
Sea King havens tend to be large, lavishly decorated and very secure. They also tend to be located on the sea, such as an ocean-front mansion, a private yacht club or a refurnished warehouse down by the docks. The majority of Rötgrafen actually have their havens right on the water with large yachts the prime choice in modern nights. Houseboats, sailboats and even cargo ships have also seen use.

There are those among the line who maintain, either due to tradition or romantic nostalgia, that a wooden ship is still the most comfortable haven, and contrive means to inhabit one. Some still ply the seas in carefully maintained vessels that are centuries old in design — a strange sight, indeed, but no less dangerous under the command of a ruthless vampire than their modern steel counterparts.

Background:
While the bloodline’s beginnings were rooted in Viking raiding, the bloodline has diversified considerably over the last 1,000 years. There is a very heavy, nearly exclusive preference for individuals with some connection to the sea, be it physical location, vocational aptitude or an intangible emotional resonance.

Character Creation:
Due to centuries of raiding and midnight combat, the Rötgrafen have long had a preference for Physical Attributes and Skills. Weaponry and Stealth are particularly common. This has traditionally been followed by the Social Attributes and the attendant Skills to maintain political control over the ports they needed. As the massive changes in society have made roving bands of warriors much less viable in the last century, younger Sea Kings often place a much lower emphasis on Physical Attributes, particularly amongst the Acolytes of the bloodline. Nearly all Rötgrafen who operate a ship of any decent size put points into Herd and/or Retainer to represent additional crew members.

Organization:
The bloodline hasn’t had any dominant internal organization in Europe since Sigrún first went into torpor in the early 1300s. In the seven centuries that followed, most Rötgrafen have simply been absorbed into the overarching institutions of their respective covenants.

The Sea Kings operating in the Caribbean allied themselves with buccaneer democracies for the most part, although Sigrún and her Kindred usually worked to maintain a ‘first amongst equals’ position. These manipulations proved to be more robust than the feudal model she adhered to in the Baltic, and many Caribbean-based Rötgrafen who are not officially Carthian tend to espouse ideas of loose Kindred equality while maneuvering themselves into positions of control. Few are true believers in democratic right, preferring to judge one another (and outsider Kindred) on a system of merit earned largely in travel and battle.

Sigrún’s piracy required ship crews and raiding parties, so she was never a close adherent of the Tradition outlawing Embrace. If you find one Sea King in a domain, you most likely will find a handful. European Rötgrafen are usually able to recite their lineage back to Sigrún herself, and try to keep abreast of developments in their extended ‘family tree.’ Ventrue who have joined the bloodline through an Avus trace their lineage as if their Avus were their sire. The application of this lineage recital varies between covenants, but is generally little more than a matter of pride, with no tangible power or status attached. Status within the bloodline itself is often moot; two Sea Kings who meet will almost always treat one another as brothers in arms. Those who engage in battle together tend to defer to the one with the most experience, but this deference is considered a necessity of competent warfare, not one born of etiquette.

Concepts: Undead pirate, violent longshoreman, Hel-worshipping death cultist, manipulative cruise ship magnate, axe-wielding aristocrat, empowered Navy SEAL, shipbuilding tycoon, seafaring nomad, reclusive lighthouse keeper, midnight beachcomber.

“Observe how the advanced state of decomposition — slowed, in this case, but not wholly halted by the reanimating plasm — causes the corpse substantial difficulty in its efforts to dress itself. Of course, I don’t mind taking a moment to assist her. I may miss the opening ceremonies at tonight’s Elysium, but I love her so… she’s so beautiful… and there is such a thing as being fashionably late.”

The Sangiovanni bloodline is seen by many Mekhet as an embarrassment, an uncomfortable confirmation of certain unwholesome rumors surrounding the clan and its dealings. Based in Venice, the Sangiovanni family both acknowledges and disregards the contempt in which other Mekhet hold the bloodline. Members of the family, living, dead and undead, maintain degenerate traditions honed through centuries of incest and black magic.

Among the Venetian elite, during the waning years of the Renaissance, Lodovico Sangiovanni was a prominent, wealthy and talented citizen. An architect, Sangiovanni specialized in building churches, organizing the swift and masterful construction of many beautiful houses of God. The faithful who filed obediently into Lodovico’s churches could never have guessed that the walls and foundation had been constructed almost entirely by the animated corpses of the dead.

How convenient it was for Lodovico that new churches were often built on the sites of old churches, and that the sites of old churches nearly always harbored old, forgotten graveyards. Dead workers never tire, require no payment and never complain. His patrons never guessed at the truth behind his methods, and it’s doubtful the clergy would have appreciated the irony of their churches being constructed with the aid of the black arts.

Nearly all of the ancient lineages that converged into the prestigious and wealthy Sangiovanni family as it existed in Lodovico’s time had produced a number of sorcerers, seers and witches. Lodovico learned at an early age to worship things his mother claimed were older than the Christian God — shadowy things lurking behind the faÁade of the material world. It was she who taught him to grasp at the curtain between worlds, to conjure spirits and raise the dead, binding them to his will. It was she who arranged his education as an architect as well, securing his place of esteem in the mundane world. He repaid her with a dagger in the heart, and an innocent slave was executed for her murder.

An alcoholic and a womanizer, Lodovico spent as much time drinking and whoring as he did working in construction. Occasionally, his tastes ran to darker pursuits, and much of his family’s gold was spent acquiring artifacts of a distinctly unnatural nature. At the height of his career, Lodovico’s name was gasped in Italy’s filthiest brothels, even as it was whispered in the Vatican.

Whether the fact that Lodovico was never made to face the consequences of his less savory activities is a testament to his cleverness or to some dark pact, no one will ever know. It is known, however, that he endured the rigors of life at that time for a great many years, reaching quite an advanced age and siring a number of bastard children along the way, some of whom he even formally acknowledged. In any event, Lodovico’s understanding of the world beyond lent itself to an almost insane fear of death in his later years, and the aging Sangiovanni threw himself into more and more desperate means of staving off his own inevitable demise.

It was the midnight sacrifice of his youngest daughter that attracted the notice of a being with the power to grant Lodovico the immortality he craved. A creature described in Lodovico’s journals as having “fangs like a bat, a face like a skull” appeared to him, “arising… from the darkness… where no man had been but a moment before.” The creature offered no conversation at first, but seized a shrieking Lodovico and swiftly drained his blood, transforming him into one of the undead. Its voice, Lodovico wrote, was like the crackling of a fresh fire in dry leaves, and it spoke to him, mostly nonsense, or so Lodovico thought at the time, about “men walking, men sleeping, men kneeling before God.” Lodovico could feel the creature’s thoughts pierce into his mind, and in an instant he was made to understand. The creature dissolved into blackness, leaving an acrid smell and dark visions of the dead rising to outnumber the living. Lodovico rose, but stood motionless for the rest of the night. Those of his acolytes who had looked on in mute horror as their guiding magus had been slain and resurrected later wrote that the freshly undead Lodovico roared with mad laughter until the sun forced him to sleep.

Lodovico Sangiovanni never saw his sire again, and his journals tell of the nightly discoveries he made in the first years of his Requiem. Those who would read his writings in the centuries to come would note the steady pace with which the Sangiovanni elder’s grasp on sanity slackened. Lodovico wrote that he had been entrusted with a duty to raise up all the dead of the world, as had been foretold in the Book of Revelation. Initially, however, it seemed he had lost his former powers of sorcery upon becoming immortal, and his surviving writings from those early nights clearly reflect his rage. His sons aged and died before he mastered the arts of necromancy once again. Lodovico Embraced a daughter and a son, each of whom was forced to Embrace a brother and a sister. Lodovico was clever, never allowing the number of vampires in the family to endanger its ability to produce a new generation of living offspring. Nevertheless, he ruled over the family as a twisted tyrant for many generations, slaying out of hand those who incurred his displeasure. Not all of his childer and descendants shared his strange vision for the family or his crazed devotion to his dead mother’s wicked gods.

Eventually, Lodovico’s insanity would prove immensely detrimental to him. In the early 1800s, his ‘beloved’ family at last decided that they’d had enough of the despot, and the old patriarch was staked and left out to greet the sun. After a tremendous restructuring, one of Lodovico’s surviving grandchildren, Santino Sangiovanni, took over the mantle of leadership, and the family became less a den of degenerates bent solely on the preservation and empowerment of their founder and more a lodge for scholarly pursuits. The Kindred, however, are known for being set in their ways, and slow to change their minds, and even today the Sangiovanni family is seen as a blight on the history of the Mekhet clan.

More than once after Lodovico’s death, the Sangiovanni family found itself the target of Invictus attempts to eradicate them, and advances by the Circle of the Crone seeking to force mass membership upon the bloodline. Each such expedition met with hideous failure, as the Sangiovanni Necromancers’ occult prowess would seem strangely bolstered in the face of such concerted aggression. One such skirmish, eclipsed in the annals of Kindred history by the travails of those undead caught up in the American Civil War, saw the presence of both the Invictus and the Circle undermined so thoroughly in parts of Venice that even to this day neither covenant dares intrude upon Sangiovanni lands. As to how a remote bloodline of scholars managed to so soundly defeat two covenants, many theories exist, but the Sangiovanni themselves have remained unsettlingly silent on the matter. What is known is that, afterward, startlingly large sums of money were transferred anonymously to the coffers of an occult lodge in Florence.

The Sangiovanni family and bloodline exist now as an embarrassing secret, hushed up by both Clan Mekhet and an order of mortal sorcerers. Breeding and inbreeding for centuries within polite Italian society, the Sangiovanni are considered little better than a nest of cockroaches by those who know them. Those who understand the Sangiovanni’s secrets, however, often wish they could forget. Santino’s efforts in recent decades to establish ties with the Lancea Sanctum, calling upon the family’s old association with the Catholic Church, have yielded pleasing results. Diplomatically couching the family’s occult activities in terms that evoke images of biblical resurrection, Santino has secured the covenant’s protection, if not its respect.

As for old Lodovico himself, many unanswered questions remain. Records are unclear as to the exact nature of his necromantic power before his Embrace, and less educated Kindred are quick to label him a mage. Mages, though poorly understood by Kindred society at large, are nonetheless known to seldom, if ever, survive the Embrace. The possibility that Lodovico was somehow the exception to this rule has kept many scholars, vampire and wizard alike, up through many long nights of wondering. What can be discovered, by those dedicated or suicidal enough to pry, is that the Sangiovanni bloodline’s survival unto the modern day is ultimately attributable to the subtle intervention of a subsect of mages — debauched, soul-stealing immortals, if the rumors are to be believed. Those few in the know seem to by turns inexplicably vanish, or choose to ignore their more disturbing findings on the matter.

Today, more Sangiovanni are leaving Venice than ever before. Modern Kindred have more on their minds than stories of nests of twisted vampires in the Old Country, and thus, the Sangiovanni are finding with increasing frequency that Kindred beyond Italy do not know who or what the Sangiovanni are. Borrowing from the family’s coffers or drawing on their substantial web of European business contacts, young Sangiovanni have been striking out into Western Europe, and even to the Americas, offering their services in the fields of business and accounting, as well as their family’s unique and eldritch specialty.

Covens of Sangiovanni Necromancers have appeared in New York City, Paris and even smaller towns and cities as the reach of the bloodline races to expand to match the new communications capabili- ties of today. For every Prince disgusted by the prospect of necromancy in his domain, at least one instead chooses to see potential in a Sangiovanni’s black magic, and many American Sangiovanni find that they can claim domains of their own in hospitals and funeral homes in return for providing their Princes with data both occult and scientific. Of course, whether times are truly changing for the Necromancers, or whether they have merely set themselves up for a new, modern witch hunt, remains to be seen.

Nickname: Necromancers (among themselves) or Necrophiles (to everyone else)

Covenant:
The Sangiovanni family more or less enjoys the protection of the Lancea Sanctum. Those willing to pay lip service to the Lancea Sanctum’s religious leanings will find the covenant willing to tolerate the practice of necromancy to a surprising degree. However, this tie to the Lancea Sanctum is built more on old debts and favors than on any real loyalty, and Sanctified Sangiovanni seen to be flouting the ethics of the sect, or, worse, showing too great an interest in Lodovico’s heretical writings, can expect their punishment to be swift and uncompromising.

Though hardly the majority, more than a few Sangiovanni have sided with the Circle of the Crone — particularly those who adhere to Lodovico’s views concerning ‘old gods.’ Sangiovanni Acolytes almost universally found or join death cults centered around entities such as Charon or Cama Sotz.

Appearance:
The elder Sangiovanni dress in fashions popular during the Renaissance, modern sensibilities be damned, whereas a startling number of younger family members seem to favor respectable business dress, typically in dark colors. A Sangiovanni of any ethnicity but Italian is a rare thing indeed, but not unheard of, as a number of foreigners have married into the family. Sadly, rather a lot of Sangiovanni are even more pallid than the average vampire, with weird, deep-set eyes, weak chins, eyebrows grown together, severe under- or over-bites and other defects that betray the family’s penchant for inbreeding. Many make an effort to look gaunt or corpse-like in an attempt to make themselves attractive to the elders of the line — a bizarre practice that most onlookers never fully understand. Only a few can be said to look ‘normal.’

Haven:
For obvious reasons, the vast majority of Sangiovanni establish lairs in Italy, the bloodline’s ancestral homeland, primarily in and around Venice. The family keeps a large estate not far outside of Venice, on the former site of a modest cathedral designed and built by Lodovico himself. Anyone who bears both the Sangiovanni blood and name is welcome there, but the family is infamous for turning away or simply destroying ‘double bloods’ — members of the bloodline who are not verifiable members of the family — who show up on their doorstep. Outside of Italy, Sangiovanni make their homes just as other vampires do, often grouping together when more than one of their kind meet in a given city. Independent Sangiovanni often go for theatrics, lairing in mausoleums or sleeping in the corpse drawers in morgues.

Background:
Sangiovanni often have little experience with the modern world, having been raised in a sheltered and twisted environment from the start. These unfortunates, inbred and often slightly insane, have been aware of the existence of vampires since before they could talk. Luckily, not all Sangiovanni are so twisted. Those independent Sangiovanni, unfettered by the family at large, are often scholarly Kindred whose studies take a darker turn, causing them to seek out properties of the blood that are perhaps best left alone.

Character Creation:
In spite of occasional handicaps levied by inbreeding, Sangiovanni are typically clever and knowledgeable. Mental Attributes and Skills are common, and members of the family are encouraged to develop these aptitudes from an early age. After all, occult studies comprise the bulk of their lives and, for the lucky and clever ones, their Requiems as well. The family’s vast stores of knowledge, in the form of both occult tomes and father-figure mentors who may have existed for centuries, make Encyclopedic Knowledge a common Merit, and it’s a rare Sangiovanni indeed who lacks any Resources, thanks to the family’s coffers, bloated with the sins of centuries. Of course, a second dot of Blood Potency is a good investment as well, if one wishes to begin play as a member of the bloodline. Finally, Allies and Contacts are extremely common, especially at high levels, due to the family’s many business partners, occult acolytes and organized crime contacts.

Organization:
The Sangiovanni, as noted above, are primarily organized into a close-knit family originating in Venice. Santino is the oldest surviving member of the family, being the founder’s childe and grandson, and he continues to run things to this day. Family members willing to undertake the journey to Venice are encouraged to schedule an appointment to meet with Santino, should they require advice or formal aid, as Santino has made it well-known throughout the family that the survival and well-being of the bloodline is his foremost concern. The family’s resources are widespread, but are not casually available for the taking by anyone who hasn’t spent generations cultivating pull with the higher-ups in the family. Nevertheless, being on good terms with the family has its advantages, as their various branches have fingers in numerous pies, including the obligatory ties to medical, religious and criminal establishments. Family members are expected to do their part to further the goals of the family, pulling their weight in financial and occult arenas alike, but also to ensure the bloodline’s long-term survival, which means keeping other Kindred in the dark as to their broader nightly activities. The family’s vaults are choked with corpses, and on nights of occult significance, the droning voices of chanting Sangiovanni witches can be heard on the wind for some distance around the mausoleum. Most of those Sangiovanni with ties to the Circle of the Crone make at least a token effort to attend the occasional gathering at the Venetian mausoleum. Most such Sangiovanni Acolytes hope that if some trace of Lodovico remains — even if only in the form of a lingering specter, or a tainted smear of ash — it will be one of them who finds it, and perhaps uncovers some hint to the bloodline founder’s true intentions. Even those loyal to the Lancea Sanctum are expected to participate in family rites and ceremonies, mostly practices codified by Lodovico and later revised by Santino himself. What even other Venetian Kindred need not know is that the Sangiovanni as a whole are as corrupt as ever, exploiting the dead for their own selfish ends — often for mere temporal wealth. For his part, Santino is not so foolish as to have overlooked the obvious benefits of possessing magics unavailable to any other Kindred lineage. A perpetually renewable army of corpses has its uses, and even the great covenants could scarcely contend with shambling forces that effortlessly replenish themselves. Nevertheless, even Santino realizes that the time is not yet right, so he plots and waits. As long as Kindred society at large believes the Sangiovanni are simple, deluded degenerates lurking in the dark, tending to their own selfish, insignificant matters, the Kindred are playing into Santino’s hands, and he remains free to plan for a secret war that may never come. Members of the bloodline who have rejected Santino’s leadership, and thus his protection, are seldom welcome at the mausoleum, though even Santino is more likely to simply turn them away than to destroy them. In the case of wayward members of the Sangiovanni family, it is hoped that they will someday return to the fold. The mausoleum has room enough for anyone of the blood with a passion for exploring the mysteries of death.

Concepts: Unsavory mortician, half-crazed librarian, charismatic cult leader, dread dark magus, laconic grave-digger, degenerate jetsetter, established haven designer, wild-eyed Catholic priest, simpering pervert.

While the Sanctified have long claimed to be the most faithful and godly possible vampires, the Septemi exist as a relatively modern phenomenon set to challenge the covenant’s presumptions. Where the Sanctified attest that the Kindred were personally Damned by God to act as his lash against the back of a sinful mortal populace (thus driving them towards divinity), the Septemi spare the rod, declaring that vampires have no exalted place in the Lord’s creation. They work from the shadows to counter the influence of the Sanctified, driven by their higher soul to undo the work of evil men and lead humanity to salvation through charity and education. Such altruism dooms a Kindred to a difficult Requiem (often made more difficult yet by the fact that the Septimi’s altruism does not necessarily extend to their fellow vampires).

Nickname: Passionate (among themselves), Maidens or Roaches (among the Sanctified — both derogatory terms)

History and Culture: The genesis of the Septemi is a matter of some confusion. The ostensible founder of the lineage, Robert le Tuteur, served as a soldier in the army of none other than Jeanne d’Arc (known to English speakers as Joan of Arc) during the Hundred Years’ War (and in fact, some claim, received the Embrace on the third night after her martyrdom). He has since claimed that his introduction to the Requiem came at the hands of a Daeva elder who gave only the name Septima and that she told him of her legacy, a long line of Kindred who served God’s true will in the face of great perfidy. She set him on the path he would follow before vanishing into the night, intimating that she was the last surviving member of a bloodline that had existed since before the rise of Rome. No record of such a lineage can be found prior to Robert, however, and the fact that no record remains of any Kindred in France by Septima’s name or description at the time of Robert’s Embrace further muddies the waters (though, as many scholars point out, were Septima a Sanctified heretic she may have given a false name for her own protection).

Most Passionate accept Robert’s story, but also claim that whether Robert inherited an older legacy or created the lineage remains immaterial to its overarching goals and beliefs. There can be no doubt that Robert serves as the single most important figure in the bloodline’s modern history, acting as a catalyst for the growth of a small movement of Christian Daeva unwilling to accept the teachings of the Lancea Sanctum. Robert taught his followers that Christianity applied to the Kindred as it did to mortals, and that their fallen state gave vampires no inherent dominion over the living. He rejected the terms Canaille and Kine, refusing to see the mortals as mere feeding stock, and ruffled feathers by denying many of “the pretty euphemisms” (as he put it) of the Damned. He drew to him numerous young vampires, many of whom he initiated into his own bloodline, though he purportedly sired no childer of his own. These schismatic Kindred drew negative attention from the Lancea Sanctum, but the covenant was too distracted by the mortal inquisition during the bloodline’s initial growth to effectively move against it. Misguided vampire heretics seemed a lesser problem than torch-wielding priests. Instead, they largely dismissed the heretics, branding them with the sobriquet “Maidens” due to the founder’s supposed association with Joan of Arc, the Maiden of Orleans.

Children of the Revolution

The lineage truly came into its own during the waning years of the anarchs’ revolution. Among the mortals, the Catholic French backed the Protestant revolutionaries, initially through grants of wealth and eventually with martial assistance. The elders of the French Lancea Sanctum, eager to see the Holy Roman Empire fall into decline, followed suit, providing aide from their own coffers and stables of blood-bound servants. Yet their plan made slow progress. The Septemi had already entered the Empire, making every attempt to stop infighting among the Austrian and German Kindred and descending on destroyed mortal villages to assist in the rebuilding efforts. While the Sanctified would normally have dismissed the Septemi as minor thorns at worst, the Septemi began openly employing the signature mutation of their blood, a mystical ability that interferes with the supernatural, including the sacred dark miracles of Theban Sorcery.

The French Lancea Sanctum immediately became incensed, naming the entire line anathema and destroying all members of the group who surfaced within their parishes. Though some German Sanctified followed suit, the Septemi remained in Central Europe, working to undo the horrors of the civil wars both among vampires and the living. Yet, for all their work, the blood-borne selfrighteousness of the Septemi garnered the line few allies, and members quickly migrated. The line grew, spreading into Eastern Europe, Russia and Great Britain.

The Septemi Tonight

In the centuries since their abortive crusade against the French Sanctified, the Septemi have made enemies almost everywhere they travel. Far from being heroes, their blood addicts them to the rush of martyrdom, the pleasure inherent in giving of themselves for an apparent greater good. The fact that many use less than noble tactics in their quests has done nothing for the lineage, and those Kindred familiar with the line label them hypocrites (and, more recently, terrorists).

During the late 18th century, nomadic Sanctified began spreading a message within each domain they traveled to: the Septemi, they claimed, were an infernal threat that must be cleansed from the world. What followed were numerous bloody witch-hunts as suspected Kindred were dragged from their havens and rendered torpid. On occasion, the accused even stood trial before being left for the sun. The onus of proof, however, rested with the accused, and proving that one’s lineage does not include the taint of an obscure bloodline can be incredibly difficult.

The hunts were not terribly effective, however, and in most cases, trials simply served as an excuse for one elder to strike against a Daeva rival. Later Sanctified would call the Septemi “Roaches” for their ability to survive everything the covenant threw at them; the reality, however, is that the Sanctified largely undercut their own initiatives.

Tonight the Septemi still exist, often hiding in the folds of the Carthian Movement and keeping the truth of their lineage hidden. Few among the Sanctified still remember that they exist, though within those parishes perennially plagued by the Passionate, especially in Central Europe, the feud continues to simmer to this night. On those rare occasions that the Septemi openly display their presence in a city with any Sanctified influence, the church attempts to have them banished, destroyed or tried for treason against Kindred society. The wise Passionate never grants them that chance.

The Three Roads

The Septemi lineage splits into three rough divisions, each corresponding to a member’s approach to the bloodline’s mission. The most active and aggressive division, the Justiciars, works to remove the tools that the Lancea Sanctum uses to keep humanity frightened and submissive. They observe local Sanctified, destroying connections with mortals through physical abuse and scare tactics (a gangster once loyal to a Lancea Sanctum bishop may be considerably less so after a visit from one of the Septemi) and directly physically assaulting the Sanctified only if all else fails. They usually veil their genuine objectives behind typical covenant and Kindred politics, so as to avoid giving away their true identities.

The second division, the Pacifists, strives to undo the horrors that the Sanctified inflict on the living by helping those who such vampires harm. If a Sanctified places a Vinculum on a mortal, a Pacifist attempts to break it. When a Sanctified priest keeps a city block under his rotting thumb, the Pacifist disseminates literature of hope and faith. Kindred of the bloodline consider the Pacifists the oldest philosophy within the line, and Robert le Tuteur, the founder of the lineage, has expressed personal beliefs in line with this faction on the rare occasions he has made his presence known to his descendents.

Unlike the other two divisions, the Custodians often content themselves with minimizing their own impact on the living rather than acting to undo that of other Kindred. They hope to lead by example, demonstrating that the Kindred can survive without causing undue harm to the mortal herd. These Kindred can easily fall into an ascetic style of existence, but they tend to be the Passionate most likely to rise to positions of prominence within Kindred society (mostly by dint of stepping on fewer toes than the Justiciars and Pacifists). From there they guide their chosen covenant in a way consistent with the bloodline’s philosophy.

A member’s sire has nothing to do with which of the three groups she falls into. Instead, her curse draws her to one group at the exclusion of the others. In game terms, a character’s Virtue determines which of the three philosophies she is most inclined towards. Characters with Justice and Fortitude usually join the Justiciars, allowing nothing (sometimes including their Humanity) to stand between them and their quest to end the evils of the Lancea Sanctum. Characters who uphold Charity and Hope typically join the Pacifists, believing that they cannot heal the world through harm. Temperate or Prudent characters, on the other hand, often join the Custodians, striving to curb their own excesses. Finally, the Faithful among the Passionate find themselves drawn to all three divisions, always choosing a path based on the nature of their faith but often acting as intermediaries between the groups. Exceptions do occur, of course, and a Maiden might pursue Justice through public works and government manipulation while another might Prudently plot out every aspect of her plan to destroy the local archbishop.

Yet the Septemi have little in the way of bloodline organization. The three paths are less factions of the line than they are personal decisions made by the Kindred in question. Most Septemi teach their childer a series of closely guarded pass phrases designed to help Septemi differentiate one another from the rest of Kindred society. These phrases usually resemble riddles, biblical passages, koans or sutras, but cannot be traced back to a written source.

Sires choose childer they feel will strive to improve the lot of mortals and vampires alike, but remain vigilant against Embracing those who lack the reserves of willpower necessary to survive the Requiem. As a result, Septemi come from many different walks of life, but tend to be those who possessed some interest in philanthropy or vigilantism in life (sometimes both, and the line boasts more than one self-styled modern-night Robin Hood). Thus a Passionate may be a former night-shift emergency room nurse, a disgruntled police officer or a gangster trying to clean up his neighborhood.

Septemi never inform a newly Embraced childe of her lineage. Instead they do what they can to raise the member in a manner consistent with the bloodline’s beliefs. These eachings tend to begin privately, but are of a largely secular philosophical nature. If the neophyte shows acceptance and interest in the bloodline’s principles, the instruction sessions slowly transform, becoming steeped in religion and baroque mysticism. If (and only if) the childe seems willing to take on the lineage’s mission at the risk of her unlife will the sire adopt her into the line (a similar initiation awaits outsiders who the line deems promising). After all, a failed indoctrination could doom the sire.

Reputation: The Kindred consider the Septemi misguided and naïve at best and dangerous and maladjusted at worst. Neither the Invictus nor the Sanctified would knowingly shelter or admit a member of the bloodline except under the most unusual of circumstances. While the Invictus stops short of branding the entire lineage a heresy to be wiped out, the bloodline’s beliefs and tactics tend to directly counter those of the First Estate more often than not. The Sanctified, on the other hand, would see the Septemi wiped from creation. Their actions, sins in the eyes of Longinus, disrupt Kindred society and endanger all vampires, they claim. Some go so far as to declare that the abilities of the Septemi display an almost certain link to infernal practices, but few other Kindred take such accusations seriously.

While the Circle of the Crone would be unlikely to admit a Passionate into its ranks (and the Passionate even less likely to apply for admission), the faith as a whole appreciates the Septemi. The lineage’s tendency to draw heat away from the Acolytes is welcome, though the Circle frowns upon the line’s adherence to mortal religion. Worse yet, in domains where the Sanctified don’t pose a problem to the mortal populace, the Septemi tend to turn their attention towards the blood witches, a group hardly known for its altruistic attitude towards humanity.

The Ordo Dracul rarely crosses paths with the Septemi. Each group has quite a bit to offer the other, however, and alliances do occasionally form. The Septemi, for their part, dearly covet the advantages the Coils grant (especially those that minimize impact on the mortal populace, such as the Coil of Blood); they do not, however, appreciate the grisly studies that many Dragons embark on in order to unearth their eldritch powers. The Dragons, on the other hand, find the Abjurism Discipline and its capacity for overcoming the various threats in the World of Darkness fascinating. As a result, short-term relationships between single Dragons and Passionate occasionally occur, but usually collapse when each finds the other’s approach reprehensible.

The Septemi assisted the anarchs during the troubles of the 17th century and aided the nascent Carthian Movement when it began to spread across Europe. While the line hardly has a position of importance within the covenant as a whole, its philosophies mesh with those of the Carthians more often than they do other groups. As a result, the Movement attracts more Septemi than any other covenant. While the average Carthian finds the Passionate’s dedication to Christianity unusual, few actively work against members of the lineage so long as they pull their weight. Given the bloodline’s weakness, members often rise above the call of duty.

The Septemi do possess one major claim to fame (and to the efficacy of their philosophies): The lineage’s founder, Robert le Tuteur, remains active to this night and is rumored to have achieved the much-debated state of Golconda. He leads a nomadic unlife, typically hiding his true nature (and masquerading as a neonate) unless forces conspire to inspire him to intercede in a situation. While detractors point to his supposed achievement of enlightenment as an obvious lie and bit of propaganda spread by the line to further its heresy, those who have met Robert report that there’s something about his pale blue eyes, long sandy hair and beardless face forever frozen at two decades of age that inspires belief. Others point out that a Succubus of his age certainly possesses a stunning mastery of Majesty. Whether tales of Robert’s spiritual puissance will be authenticated or disproved as a hoax remains to be seen.

Concepts: Ascetic martial artist, Carthian investigator, ghetto Robin Hood, law in a lawless neighborhood, mob instigator, monstrous monster hunter, political activist, protest singer, suicide hotline operator, wealthy charity chairperson

Think of the way a shepherd tends to his flock. The herder watches over the sheep. He stays nearby, he directs them, he keeps them safe from wolves and starvation and disease. And then, when the time is right, he exploits the animals for their milk, wool and meat.

That’s what the Shepherds do. These Savages stand guard over the food supply — that food being the human herd from which vampires feed. Admittedly, it’s not just about food, given that humans are powerful resources in ways beyond being just walking, talking bags of blood, but that still speaks to a core need to keep the herd relatively safe. Either way, whatever a human offers, he can’t be utilized if he’s dead or on the run. The herd is best when kept docile and ignorant.

The Shepherds call this idea the “Fourth Tradition,” or the “Tradition of the Herd.” They claim that it’s just as important as the other three Traditions supposedly put forth by the Camarilla so many centuries ago, and that the Kindred have grown gluttonous and indulgent with the food supply. Any sense of moderation has gone out the window, and now the vampires let their Beasts have a taste whenever they see fit — often leaving a trail of bloodless bodies as a result.

That doesn’t help anyone. The herd gets spooked, and then it withdraws. At night, they lock doors and windows. They don’t go out to the clubs as much, and the hookers all carry razors and Tasers and even pistols, none of which will stop a hungry vampire, but can all cause more than a degree of trouble. They call the police. Someone investigates the bodies, the blood spatter, the flakes of dead flesh left behind. They grow aware. Vampire hunters arise. The herd knows it’s being hunted. The Masquerade shudders and fractures.

The Shepherds seek to stop this wanton disregard for the herd. And so they do what seems anathema to many Kindred: they protect the humans from vampiric excess.

History and Culture: It began during the mid-19th century with the Montrose Party — a group of humans heading Westward toward Oregon. They were not alone. With them came a number of young Kindred, moving the “flock” of humans through the wilderness the way a cattleman might move his herd dozens of miles so the beasts could have grass to graze on. It was a curious experiment — neither man nor vampire had ever easily crossed such a wild expanse before. It was also a failed experiment: the Montrose Party was beset by a wild tribe of horrific vampires, seemingly not Kindred at all (the Sta-Au). Few survived, most perishing at the hands of the monsters, others claimed by them.

One of those who did survive and escape was Greta Devenpeck, a Gangrel who had a powerful way of blending in with the human herd, hiding in plain sight. Despite what was ostensibly a coldly pragmatic solution (usher the food supply to a place where the vampire herders could act as kings), she had formed a certain connection to the people of the Montrose Party — in much the same way as a keeper feels about a dumb hound or a stubborn herd of goats. Greta had come to know these people intimately. She’d discerned their quirks, watched their relationships unfold, and of course tasted their blood from time to time. And then, like that, they were all gone. Dead, because she and the others couldn’t protect them (couldn’t even protect themselves, truth told).

White Hats
The reality is, the Shepherds aren’t the “good guys” just because they keep humans safe. They’re basically just pragmatic predators, tending to the flock the way a cautious drug dealer keeps his customers from killing themselves so that they can continue to indulge their addictions. A parasite does best when it keeps the host alive, right?
Still, pop culture is home to a number of anti-hero protagonists, and Vampire: The Requiem falls in line with that idea from time to time. The Shepherds in particular can play — if you and your Storyteller agree — as something a bit more high-minded and heroic, if need be. They still play at being pragmatic predators, but in this more optimistic version, they’re actually unwittingly or willfully keeping the herd safe because they strive against the Beast within and the evils of Kindred society. They’re the bulwark against cruel predation, and thus you have a mode in which your vampire Shepherd can be more of a “good guy” than you’d perhaps find in a standard mode of play.

It was traumatic, and it changed her. Back in towns and cities, she found she could stand in a crowd of humans and they’d barely even notice her. The sheep did not see the wolf that stood among them in full sight. Years later, while on the East Coast, Greta came to notice things about people: sometimes, the herd would grow spooked. If too many fell victim to monstrous predations, they’d start to circle the wagons (so to speak), standing vigil over one another, shuttering the windows at night. Even a mote of awareness blooming in ignorance became dangerous, and when the vampires had trouble feeding, the competition over resources became all the fiercer. Fat and happy, the Kindred had an easier road to peace. Lean and hungry, they tore at each other like starving dogs.

Greta and her coterie took it unto themselves to police the overindulgences of their kind. If they caught a Kindred slaking his thirst like a mad dog, leaving a trail of bodies, they came to that animal and did what anybody would do with a rabid beast: they gave it swift mercy with stake and axe. From Devenpeck and her coterie of Savages grew the transformed blood of the Shepherds. It’s why they’re more than just a small covenant of vampires. The Blood shifted within them. They are wolves who walk in shadow, they are hunters in darkness. But above all else, they are Shepherds.

Joining is as easy or as difficult as making a mark on one of the local Shepherds. One must of course be judged worthy. If a Gangrel has given herself over to hungry excesses too many times, the Shepherds will cast her to the curb (or destroy her outright). But if she can prove her devotion to moderation, to the safety of the herd and not to her own raw desires, then they’ll give her a proper look.

The Shepherds don’t dress in any notable way, and in fact are purposefully non-notable. They wear non-descript clothes for the most part, and keep their hair and any makeup to acceptable but not extreme levels (unless, of course, the general fashions of an area suggest such a thing — the goal is to blend, not to be a dullard in a room full of fashion mavens, or a golf caddy walking amidst a gaggle of homeless).

Reputation: Their reputation is, at best, mixed. Some value their presence. They can be a bit self-righteous and icy, and it’s downright spooky the way they often just appear (sometimes with two or three of them in tow), but for the most part they’re actually fulfilling a useful function for the good of Kindred society. Some Princes keep them on retainer, and make them a valuable part of “the organization.” Many Shepherds have even ended up as sheriffs and seneschals.

The problem is, most of the Damned aren’t interested in “the good of Kindred society.” They want to eat. They want to party. They want to fuck and kill and run and laugh. What the Shepherds warn against is something most don’t ever see — while a snowball effect does indeed occur when a vampire indulges in gross feeding excesses, most are too blind to really notice it. And, even if they do notice it, who cares? Blood’s the same two blocks over, so the vampire simply moves his hunting ground.

And that attitude makes the Shepherds seem like sanctimonious conservationists of the most annoying order… which further makes them enemies to any Prince or Archbishop or pack of snarling nomads. It’s a bit of a vicious circle. The Shepherds end up hunted, but they themselves are capable hunters. Factions clash, and in the interim, the human herd suffers anyway. It’s a struggle the Shepherds must endure; truthfully, those of the bloodline have yet to safely navigate such troubled waters in most cities.

Concepts: Embattled Prince, helpful sire, Kindred pragmatist, reserved glutton, self-righteous castigator, seneschal, survivalist, wary sheriff, trend-setter, penitent avenger

Cade, quite unknown even to himself, has changed his Blood to better suit his mission in unlife. The reality of Cade’s transformation will likely remain unknown until such time as his Kindred descendents display a similar aptitude for Vigor and tendency toward outbursts of violence.

Members of Cade’s bloodline will be warrior-lords, knights errant in the World of Darkness, living and dying by the sword. These Ventrue will live by a personal (and often twisted) personal code of honor that puts conviction before all else. For the Cadians, might makes right, and no greater might exists than one’s own blood-fueled arms.

History and Culture:
Cade’s bloodline has only recently manifested in the soldier’s war-inundated Vitae. As such, the history of the line is the history of Cade, and if the bloodline has any culture it is the whole of Cade’s behavior. Cade may have sired childer in the last few decades (perhaps one or more of the players’ characters); if so, they will forge the culture of the line with their own actions. Will they become petty tyrants of the Damned, or can they maintain a sense of their own dignity and nobility?

Reputation:
Obviously Cade’s bloodline, being utterly unknown, has yet to garner a reputation in Kindred society. Cade, on the other hand, has, and his repute will likely trickle down his lineage. What precisely Cade’s final legacy will be, however, remains to be seen.

Will he slip into torpor or meet Final Death before his growing madness and bloodline-born rage drive him to a tragic downfall in the esteem of the Damned, or will he collapse under the weight of his own delusions and rage? Whatever happens, the results will reflect upon the lineage for good or ill.

In the 16th century, Europeans came into sustained contact with the people of Japan for the first time and, in turn, the Japanese met their first Europeans. Fujita Kunimasa, the founder of the Sotoha (SO-to-ha), was Embraced some time fairly early in that century. His sire was a Ventrue, but Kunimasa spoke little of him in later years, even less than he spoke of the beginning of his Requiem in Japan. That period is the subject of considerable speculation among those of his blood, but almost nothing is known for certain.

What is known is that in the 17th century Tokugawa Iemitsu closed the country, cutting off almost all contact with foreigners. Kunimasa, who had built up a strong power base among European traders and missionaries, realized that if he remained in his homeland he would be rendered almost powerless — and so he chose to leave. As it happened, his best servants had recently established themselves in the New World, so Kunimasa chose to travel to the Americas, rather than Europe.

There, he found himself alone and in exile. He still had his mundane Retainers, so he was not isolated in that sense, but no one around him shared his culture, his commitment to bushido or, indeed, his language. He sired his childer and created his bloodline, the Sotoha or “group of people on the outside,” to fill his need for family as much as to increase his power. Kunimasa succeeded in his aims, and while he has not been noticeably active for decades — and may be in torpor — his descendants remain mostly loyal to their founder’s ideals.

The most important of those ideals is loyalty. Kindred of the Sotoha are expected to show absolute and unquestioning loyalty to their immediate superior, and this loyalty is supposed to take priority over any claim that a higher authority might have. Thus, if a Kindred’s immediate superior rebels against the Prince, the inferiors should support him, even if they have sworn loyalty to the Prince themselves. In theory, this situation would never occur, as the Kindred’s lord would maintain his loyalty to the Prince just as the Kindred served his lord; in practice, it is all too common.

Kindred are expected to obey any orders from their lords without question, even if the order is suicidal. A vassal’s Requiem is of no importance compared to the commands of his lord. Lords are expected not to waste the lives of their followers, and those within this bloodline do not, as long as they are in their right minds. While, in theory, even an insane lord is due absolute obedience, this is one place where theory tends to break down in the face of practice.

There are, traditionally, two ways in which a Kindred may legitimately break his link with his lord. The first is harakiri, or seppuku. In this rite, the Kindred cuts his stomach open with his sword, in front of witnesses, declaring that he is protesting against his lord’s decisions. The vampire must inflict enough damage to himself to drive himself into torpor, so the witnesses need to be Kindred, or sometimes ghouls, whom he trusts completely. When the Kindred comes out of torpor, he is freed of all obligations to his former lord, and may freely seek a new lord.

The second protest is more dramatic. A vassal may choose to destroy himself, traditionally by facing the morning sun. This frees all of the lord’s other vassals from their loyalty to that lord, and gives the lord’s lord proper grounds to renounce him. Such suicides are known as hinomi (hee-noh-MEE — “sun viewing”), not harakiri or seppuku, both of which mean “stomach cutting.” Only two instances of hinomi are recorded in the bloodline’s history. The most famed is that of the Kindred now known as Fujita Yuko (“child of the sun”), a vassal of Fujita Pedro. Fujita Pedro had surrendered almost entirely to the Beast and was a known diablerist, but the vassals he retained from his days of sanity made it impossible for any Kindred to move against him safely. Fujita Yuko’s sacrifice stripped Fujita Pedro of all support, and he was staked out over Fujita Yuko’s ashes, to face the sun as she had.

The second ideal is constant calm, showing no violent emotions. Obviously, this is extremely hard for Kindred, beset as they are by the Beast, and the bloodline’s unique discipline, Kamen (the Mask), is devoted to making constant calm more possible. However, only violent emotions are disallowed. A gentle melancholy at the passing of ephemeral life is permitted and, indeed, encouraged.

In fact, such an appreciation forms the third ideal of the bloodline. All its members are supposed to appreciate the beauty of things condemned to a short life span, such as cherry blossoms (which fall within a week) or cut flowers (which soon wither and die). Fujita Kunimasa’s eldest childe, Taro, is renowned for a set of poems he wrote reflecting on the greatest tragedy of the Kindred: that their curse robs them of such an ending. Other Kindred suspect that most members of the bloodline do not really believe this, but they certainly claim to be sincere.

Any Kindred who enters this bloodline takes the name “Fujita” to indicate that he has become part of Kunimasa’s family. While most such Kindred are Embraced by a member of the bloodline, adoption was a well-established custom in Kunimasa’s Japan, and the bloodline is happy to accept suitable Kindred from outside.

Nickname: Samurai or Outsiders (note that the Sotoha never refer to themselves as Samurai)

Covenants: Almost all Sotoha are members of the Invictus, as Fujita Kunimasa has always been a member of that covenant, and requires his vassals and their vassals to remain members. Those Sotoha outside the covenant either committed harakiri themselves or are descended from Kindred who did. The Ordo Dracul contains the next largest concentration of the bloodline, as the idea of overcoming the curses of Kindred nature is one that appeals to them. A few Sotoha are also in the Lancea Sanctum, and this group has the best relations with the main body of the bloodline. Sotoha in the Carthian Movement or the Circle of the Crone are lone renegades, protected from the vengeance of the bloodline only by the rights granted by their acts of harakiri.

Appearance: While the Sotoha think like Japanese, they do not, these days, look like Japanese. Indeed, after Kunimasa, there were several generations of the bloodline containing no Kindred of Japanese extraction. In the last century or so, a number of Ventrue of Japanese descent have chosen to join the bloodline, forming the main body of those adopted into the family. All members of the bloodline believe that sharing in Kunimasa’s blood makes them Japanese, however, and most make an effort to learn the language.

The Sotoha almost never wear samurai armor; most do not own any and would not know how to wear it if they did. They dress in formal, subdued clothes, often suits, with the result that they look much like Japanese salarymen. However, every Sotoha has a sword, and carries it with him if at all possible.

Haven: A strong Japanese influence on interior design is very common in Sotoha havens. The floors are often covered in tatami mats, and calligraphy makes for popular wall hangings. The older members of the bloodline regard woodblock prints as a product of the degeneration of Japanese culture under the Tokugawa, but younger members collect this art form eagerly.

Larger havens almost always include a dark garden. Developed from the dry gardens of Zen temples, these gardens include rocks, raked gravel of various kinds and flowing water and pools. Nothing lives within them. Sotoha Kindred are known to spend hours sitting in their gardens, meditating on their fate.

Background: Kindred of this bloodline prefer to Embrace mortals who have demonstrated loyalty, self-control and an aptitude for the acquisition and maintenance of power. As a result, Sotoha childer tend to be taken from the upper ranks of the civil service and large companies. Leaders are rarely Embraced, as they have not demonstrated loyalty to anyone else, and those in lower ranks are deemed not to have proved themselves.

The Sotoha have no particular preference for people of Japanese descent. Indeed, the Sotoha tend to look down on Japanese kine, believing that these kine have lost the soul of their nation, a soul that is preserved only among the Sotoha. Kindred of Japanese extraction who wish to join the bloodline are, however, welcome.

Character Creation: The Resistance Attributes (Resolve, Stamina and Composure) are the most important to the Sotoha. As the bloodline tends to recruit from the upper ranks of white-collar workers, Social and Mental Attributes are likely to be more important than Physical. Similarly, known Skills are those useful in running an organization, rather than fighting on the ground. This is one reason why the members of the bloodline never refer to themselves as samurai. That said, there is a certain amount of hankering after that element of their past, so Sotoha who have developed substantial combat abilities are not uncommon.

Almost all Sotoha develop at least the basics of Kamen, as that Discipline virtually defines the nature of the bloodline.

Organization: The Sotoha are one of the most rigidly organized bloodlines. Every Kindred has a lord, and most also have vassals. A vampire’s first lord is the Kindred who Embraced him, and the only way to change his lord is through the rite of harakiri. The Sotoha enforce this even on Kindred who do not choose to awaken their blood.

As noted above, a vassal is expected to show absolute loyalty to his lord. The lord’s orders and interests should take precedence over everything, including the vassal’s very survival. If the lord is harmed or killed, the vassals have a duty to hunt down and attempt to kill the offenders, even if that means certain death. The Sotoha, on the whole, take these obligations very seriously. Lords are permitted to order the deaths of their vassals. However, that vassal’s vassals then have a duty to hunt down their lord’s former lord. As a result, this option is rarely exercised.

Torpor does not normally interrupt the claims of loyalty; the only exception is torpor due to harakiri, which releases a vassal from the chain of fealty. Final Death transfers the loyalty of the vassals to the lord’s lord, with the exception of death through hinomi, which leaves them free.

A Sotoha without a lord, a ronin (and the Sotoha do use that term), is accorded very little respect or status, and cannot have any dots in Clan Status as the rest of the Ventrue take this shunning seriously. However, the rite of harakiri is respected, and no action is taken against Sotoha who choose to remain ronin. The attitude of the bloodline toward a member who swears fealty to someone outside it depends entirely on the attitude to the new master.

Concepts: Fiercely loyal urban samurai, sensitive warrior-poet, power-broker just waiting for the right moment to separate from his lord, trapped vassal of a tyrannical lord, over-enthusiastic Japanophile, idealistic ronin Carthian, artist of deaths and endings, a Seneschal as impassive as the traditional English butler, ronin searching desperately for a worthy lord, Kindred determined to make his own unlife a brief and glorious thing

The members of the Order of the Thorned Wreath follow the teachings of Artus Le Jumel. Spina vampires have his teachings in their very blood, for they are of his bloodline. The overwhelming majority of members of this bloodline are also members of the Thorned Wreath; joining the Order is usually a prerequisite to finding a sponsor to awaken the bloodline — and leaving the Order is normally regarded, and punished, as betrayal. Still, the Order and the bloodline are not identical.

Le Jumel explained it thus: “The Order of the Thorned Wreath is a duty, a task that we have taken on. We perform that duty because we have sworn to perform it, but had we chosen to swear a different oath, we would also have chosen a different duty. Our blood is what we are. We fight with courtesy because of our nature, not because of any oath. Had we chosen to swear to bring the Invictus down to the dust, we would yet have done so without descending to boorishness.”

Members of this bloodline believe those words even tonight. If anything, the Kindred who have left the Thorned Wreath hold this belief even more strongly than those within. Spina might abandon the Invictus, or even support its enemies, but they are still courteous warriors. They maintain their courtesy and courage as highly public virtues, to prove that they are still Spina, even if they have pledged allegiance to a different organization.

Courtesy is what most Kindred think of when they think of the Spina. It is relatively easy to find a vampire who will claim that a Spina has been rude to him; rather harder to find one who can produce any reliable witnesses to the event. From the night of their Embrace, all potential Spina are taught how to maintain their calm in all situations and the correct polite responses to a wide range of insults. In time, these become second nature, allowing a Spina to belittle another vampire mercilessly without once saying anything that steps across the bounds of politesse.

It is very important to remember that the Spina are polite; they are not nice. One meaning of their name is “thorn,” and they see themselves as the thorns in the Thorned Wreath. The Spina are sharp and wounding, and not merely in physical combat. Spina not infrequently become Harpies, dreaded for their satires and respected out of pure fear.

Publicly losing control to frenzy is a source of great shame within the Spina. The Beast is many things, but it is certainly not courteous. Most Spina also try to avoid losing control in private, as you never know who might be watching. The bloodline’s greatest contempt, however, is reserved for those who “ride the wave,” sacrificing courtesy for a little raw power. Absolutes are dangerous, so one should not say that the Spina never “ride the wave.” However, no vampire known to have done so is ever accepted into the bloodline.

While courtesy is more visible, the Spina define themselves equally by their courage. This is primarily physical courage; the Spina do not back down from a fight because it is dangerous. As most Spina are highly trained warriors, this attitude results in fewer losses than might be expected. However, physical courage is not the only kind. Spina are expected to stand up for their beliefs and stand by their wards, even under severe moral pressure. Most Spina live up to this standard, and the bloodline loses more members to hunts called by Princes defied on matters of principle than it does to battles in which the Spina fought despite overwhelming odds.

The importance of courage means that, of all the types of frenzy, fear frenzy is regarded as the worst. Many Spina try to train themselves to react less badly to fire or sunlight, but that fear is deeply rooted in vampire nature, and such training typically has no effect other than to inspire a few unnecessary frenzies. Still, “spina” can also mean “spine,” and the Spina like to think that they have backbone.

Indeed, more broadly, they see themselves as providing the backbone of any organization to which they belong. They do not generally seek to rule; Le Jumel was quite clear in his rejection of wide-ranging authority. The Spina do, on the other hand, believe that they have the right, and indeed the duty, to judge the rulers. Criticisms should be voiced, politely, of course, but repeatedly, until they are addressed. The Spina are also happy to enforce the standards of a group on others, and, in many cases, they have the capacity to do so.

For those Spina in the Order of the Thorned Wreath, this tendency to become an Inquisition of sorts is held in check by their oaths of loyalty, which prevent them from moving against any members of the Invictus. However, Spina outside the Thorned Wreath have no such restriction, and frequently cause trouble for other Kindred.

One group of non-Thorn Wreath-aligned Spina are still members of the Invictus, and have a certain level of notoriety and even respect from the Thorned Wreath itself. These Kindred listen for rumors of vampires who abuse the service of the Thorned Wreath, and then punish these vampires in public, and generally spectacular, ways. It is possible to survive such a punishment, but it is not common. This group takes no name for itself, but many in the Invictus call them the Furies. Their numbers are unknown, and they may not, in fact, be organized in any way. A few Spina, such as the French vampire Martine de Perpignan, have become renowned and dreaded as Furies. Martine cuts the right arms off her victims, and then chains them to watch their own flesh burn. It takes some time to heal an arm, in the best case, but if she feels the abuse was severe she chains the arm to the vampire’s chest before setting it afire.

Nickname: Barbs (as in barbed wire, barbed words)

Covenant: The Spina are overwhelmingly members of the Invictus, and fit very well into that covenant’s structure. A significant number are also found within the Lancea Sanctum, and these vampires have generally changed because of the strength of their religious convictions. Most of the Spina who have left the Order of the Thorned Wreath without being declared traitors are found among the Sanctified. A handful have joined the Ordo Dracul in an attempt to overcome frenzies and the fears inherent to their natures. The Circle of the Crone boasts maybe one or two Spina.

The Carthians, however, claim the allegiance of a significant group of Spina, Kindred who found their ideals leading them in opposition to their elders, and who took the bloodline’s injunction to bravely stand up for their ideals quite seriously. All Spina among the Carthians are regarded as traitors by the Order of the Thorned Wreath, but those who still walk the night are regarded as too much trouble to hunt down. If the opportunity were to arise, these Spina would be killed in a moment, but they have proved well capable of defending themselves.

Finally, a few Spina find that their ideals prevent them remaining loyal even to the Carthians, and these Spina end up among the unaligned. Most of these Kindred affect the pose of the elegant outlaw, although the outlaw part, at least, is generally real enough.

Appearance: Unsurprisingly, the basic appearance of the Spina is very similar to the basic appearance of members of the Thorned Wreath. Those members of the bloodline who are members of the Order of the Thorned Wreath uphold its standards with enthusiasm, and always display its symbol. The barbed wire version is less popular within the bloodline than with external recruits, but some younger members still affect it. The Daeva influence is clear in the strong tendency of Spina to maintain individual styles, while still contriving to look like warriors of the Order of the Thorned Wreath.

Those Spina outside the Order of the Thorned Wreath generally try to send two signals with their styles of dress. First, they are elegant, sophisticated and utterly confident in their own style. Second, they are clearly and completely distinct from the Thorned Wreath. On the whole, these Spina try to keep their outfits practical for combat, as most Spina see themselves as warriors, but Nur of Zagreb was renowned, during his time in Bremen, for wearing nothing but hundreds of chains, of dozens of different weights.

Almost all Spina carry a “polite” weapon visibly at all times. In Kindred society, this often means a firearm, as the vampire resistance to bullets makes such weapons less of a threat. Antique dueling pistols, or modern imitations of such, are quite popular, combining as they do elegance with near-complete uselessness, which means that there are quite a few Princes who will even permit the Spina to carry such weapons in their presence.

Haven: Spina havens are always elegant, usually beautiful and appointed for polite conversation and high-class soirees. It would be unpardonably rude to ambush someone you have invited to your haven, so those who are not actually enemies of the Spina might learn to accept such invitations when they are offered. The Spina issue such invitations fairly frequently, as well, as invitations allow them to display both courtesy, in treating guests well, and courage, in allowing the locations of their havens to become known.

Of course, the Spina are not stupid. Almost all have at least one secondary haven, where they can rest if their enemies decide to attack the main one.

Almost all Spina havens also include an armory and martial training area. The armory not infrequently doubles as a collection of noteworthy historical weapons, and may be shown to visitors. Almost all Spina armories include a flamethrower, prominently displayed but never mentioned to visitors. Asking whether it is loaded is extremely boorish; many are not, but there are some Spina who refuse to admit that sort of weakness even to themselves, and keep the weapon charged.

The training area may double as a dueling ground, for dealing with guests who are so rude as to require a physical lesson. Guests get quite a bit of leeway, but refusing to leave when asked to do so often provokes a duel, as does attacking the host. Attacking another guest gets you attacked on the spot, as the host defends his own hospitality.

Background: It is important not to forget that the Spina are a Daeva bloodline. They do not Embrace unalluring people, and are drawn to beauty almost as much as their parent clan. However, as the Spina do have additional criteria they are more willing to Embrace those who may fall short of stunning beauty. The primary additional criteria are a natural courtesy and a degree of courage. Spina tend to test both of these, quite deliberately, before deciding on an Embrace, but they do not expect someone to live up to the standards of the bloodline right away. Some Spina train potential childer while they are still mortals; other Spina Embrace those who have the potential and only accept them into the bloodline if the potential is fulfilled. The first group believe that the second pass the Curse on too casually; the second group believe that the first underestimate the influence of vampirism on mortals’ characters.

The Spina do not, on the whole, care about class, race, sex, money or age. The elderly, once Embraced, can be just as strong as the young, and are often better at both courage and courtesy. The Spina very rarely Embrace the young, as most children find true courage (as opposed to simply not thinking about risks) as hard as being polite.

Character Creation: Physical and Social Attributes are the most important to most Spina, which inevitably leads to Mental Attributes getting short shrift. Martial Skills are important, and Social Skills like Persuasion and Socialize are also vital to maintaining a proper level of courtesy. Some level of the Striking Looks Merit is also a good idea, as most members of the bloodline are attractive and admirable, even if not truly beautiful.

Organization: The Spina, as a bloodline, have no organization independent of the Order of the Thorned Wreath. Those few Spina who are outside the Thorned Wreath may join other groups, but they are not organized qua Spina.

Concepts: Thorned Wreath Knight, aspiring Harpy, Thorned Wreath Knight with doubts about his calling, Fury avenging abuses of the Thorned Wreath, Sanctified vampire spreading his faith with courtesy and obstinacy, vampire struggling to overcome his Beast and become perfectly courteous, bodyguard to a powerful Kindred, puppeteer of a powerful Kindred pretending to be a mere bodyguard, revolutionary concealing his true beliefs in order to strike at the system from within, violent upholder of the social order

They are twice-dead. They died once and became vampire, and died twice and became Sta-Au. They are as much ghost as they are Kindred, as much monster as they are human. When one is made Sta-Au, his soul is cut like cloth into ribbons. His teeth are made into a mouthful of needles, his skin bears the stains of death and the marks of his wickedness. To enter the lands of the Sta-Au, the Land of the Worms, is to leave tranquility and to enter tribulation. They measure their wealth in the skulls they have taken from their victims.

At least, that’s what the Sta-Au would have others believe. Not all of it is off the mark, but it’s certainly an embellishment. The vampires of the Sta-Au are not truly twice-dead — no, this is a symbol, a warning that to meet the Wicked Ones is to die one way or another, and those who are allowed to continue existing within the bloodline are not considered spared, but reborn. They are not ghosts, not at all, but they can sense ghosts, as if they have been urged closer to the cusp of this mortal coil (close enough to see over the edge and to perceive the limitless dead that waits below). Their teeth do not transform into terrible, needled fangs upon becoming Sta-Au. They file them down to those wretched points, expending the blood and the will to keep them at their sharpest.

It’s true about their territory, though. The Sta-Au claim the places of North America that are dead zones, places that are forever marked as badlands by both truth and legend. Certainly this continent has become profoundly developed. Highways criss-cross the nations, cities spring up and cast a sprawling net of suburban wasteland, tiny towns dot the map. But it’s still home to distant places, places where mankind hasn’t gone, and perhaps won’t ever go. Places that man thinks he cannot survive: blasted canyons, bleak tundra, wide-open spaces said to be marked by terrible winters or awful pollution or searing heat. That being said, some Sta-Au carve out small territories in the midst of the cities, too. Even a large metropolis can be home to places humanity avoids. Places like a trash-heap, or a small island in the river (a “potter’s field”) where the nameless are buried, or an industrial park long left to rust and ruin.

Just what are the Sta-Au, then? What is it they want with these desolate places? The Sta-Au seek to become more than what they are. They seek to alter the limitations placed on them as humans and vampires. They think themselves both punished for their wickedness and rewarded for being allowed a way to move past this corporeal state. They are, in essence, a misguided Golconda cult, believing that the path to becoming truly one of the gracious and wicked dead (as opposed to the “half-dead” that they are, now) is by exiling themselves in haunted dead-lands, letting their Humanity die off like fruit on a diseased vine.

The sand hills
The “Sand Hills” is the Blackfoot Indian notion of Heaven, kind of a “Happy Hunting Ground” reached for the true warriors of the tribe. For the Sta-Au, this idea remains, but has been perverted somewhat by their perspective as monsters. The Sand Hills are their interpretation of Golconda. Once they push past their awkward “half-existence,” straddling the worlds of life and death, they’ll be allowed to roam free in a blessed hunting grounds — the Sand Hills. They actually expect that their extant territories (the Land of the Worms) will change from the bleak and desolate places they are now into the sacred “hunting ground for glorious monsters” they desire.

Parent Clan: Unknown, though likely Mekhet or Gangrel; some within the bloodline believe that it has two founders, one from the Tunaxa people, one from the Tunaha. That being said, once one joins the bloodline, that individual eschews clan as an identifier (and vampires of any clan may become part of this lineage).

History and Culture: The story the Wicked Ones tell to their own is this: the origin of the Twice-Dead began with two men who were exiled by their societies. They came from different peoples (some within the bloodline suggest that one man came from the Tunaxa or K’Tunaxa, while the other came from the Tunaha/Tunahe) but were both criminals cast out for their wickedness. The story is quite clear on the point that neither of these men was dead at the time, and both were human and unfazed by the rising of the morning sun.

Some stories have these men forging a deep friendship in the blasted hills and badlands where they met in exile, while other branches of the tale have them falling in love. Either way, their relationship was not long for this world as they were both dying: they had no food and little water, and the days were hot and the nights cold. And so, the legend says, they lay there, poised on the edge of this world and nearly ready to tumble into the next. All the while it was clear to them that they would not receive a reward in the afterlife. They would not be allowed to hunt the Sand Hills, for they were wicked.

This revelation spared them, the Sta-Au claim. Ghosts — wicked shades, dark shadows — emerged, claiming the two men as their own. The spirits consumed what was left of the two men’s human souls, leaving them as almost ghosts themselves. The ghosts said that others would join them one day, and that they would not be alone as Wicked Ones. Someday, they might be able to complete the transformation into something greater than what they already are, and then they will be allowed to hunt the Sand Hills. In the meantime, they are meant to stay in the dark places, the distant reaches, forever exiled from the world of man. These places — the Land of the Worms — are themselves “exiles” of a sort, pushed to the margins of this physical world, touching the very edge of the realm of the dead. (More information on the Land of the Worms can be found on p. 40.) And so it goes that the Wicked Ones are a curious (and to some, contemptible) breed of vampires that recognizes its own iniquity as a failing, yet also exalts such wickedness as being a path to not just enlightenment, but to a full-scale transformation of their condition. They are not a part of the world. The world is home to temptation in the form of life and humanity, and they seek to secede from such temptations.

Joining them is not a passive affair. One is not slowly drawn into the web of the Wicked One, seduced for so long that one evening a character wakes up and finds that his blood is that of those around him. Joining is far more active. A vampire either seeks out the Sta-Au, or they “claim” a potential member by abducting certain Kindred who brazenly wander into their territory. Even then, they ensure that the abducted has a choice to join. Those who refuse are considered sad, and deserving of pity for being unprepared to transform (note: not transcend) one’s nature. A swift death is the mercy that is given to them.

So why seek them out? A vampire might track down the Sta-Au for a number of reasons, some true, some based on deception. If the character thinks them a group truly closing in on Golconda, and Golconda is his greatest desire, it makes sense to walk among them. Another vampire may have grown weary of hiding among humans. In recognizing one’s own base desires and sins, it isn’t unusual to want to leave the world of temptation and find a place and a people who are willing to help you realize your full, awful potential. (For some, that’s even a noble quest — “I don’t want to hurt these people anymore, but I cannot make myself better.” For others, it’s selfish — “I am a monster, and I want a place where I am allowed and encouraged to be that very thing.”)

Those who join them are considered truly dead, so much so that they are given a version of a Blackfoot funeral where the prospective member is “left for dead” in a tree, covered from the sun only by a heavy swaddling of dark blankets, and put to the mercy of hungry carrion birds. Those who survive the process are allowed to become full-fledged “shades” within the bloodline, considered twice-dead and as much ghost as vampire or human.

Times have changed the Sta-Au, somewhat. Once, they were monsters kept to the furthest-flung fringes, and all they needed to do was hunt. More fiend than common beast, they stalked the lands they called their own, the Land of the Worms — and any animal, human or vampire that would dare to wander into their domain was quick to become prey. They’d consume the blood and use the rest for leather, or build weapons from the bones, drums from the skulls, or blankets from the hair. Should other Kindred enter the Land of the Worms, they’d first measure them at a distance. They’d warn them away, making it very clear that to continue on was to take a step into a very bad land. Believing that they were not monsters for the sake of monstrousness, they’d even attempt to give potential prey three chances to turn away, to save themselves from a vile fate. Those who dared to ignore the warnings (frankly, most everyone) were treated to the greatest of cruelties. Why shouldn’t they be? They were forewarned.

Now, these incursions by outsiders happen all too often. The continent may still be home to some truly out-of-the-way places (think Saskatchewan forests, tracts of land high up in the Rockies, or long stretches of dead Mexican desert), but it’s not like it was 200 years ago. People stumble into the Land of the Worms with far greater frequency: lost vacationers, explorers, scientists, drug-runners, isolationists and so forth. This isn’t a bad thing, necessarily. It allows the Sta-Au to hunt within their territories far more frequently without sending out hunting parties (which they’re known to do — they aren’t bound to their territories), but it does ensure that they cannot be as exiled and isolated as they once were.

Physically, those of the bloodline have eschewed any native garb, though some elders still walk the world naked or dressed in very minimal deer leathers. Most mark themselves as monstrous in some way: filing teeth to points, scarification, branding, dizzying tattoos and so forth. Skulls are a common motif. Animal skulls are used as masks, or painted skulls like those found during the Mexican Day of the Dead are worn. (Skulls are also used as warnings, marking the edges of Wicked One territory.)

Reputation: Few know of them, so it’s difficult to garner a widespread reputation. The Ordo Dracul is aware of the Sta-Au, and actually has a very loose alliance with those of the bloodline. They are given a pass to walk amongst the Wicked Ones so that the two groups may share secrets about the transformation of the vampiric condition (a few Sta-Au have even joined the covenant, but have done so against the wishes of the other Twice-Dead). Secretly, the Wicked Ones accept that the Ordo Dracul will never truly transcend or transform the Kindred condition because to do so necessitates a refinement of the Blood, not membership in a club. It’s true, of course, that the Coils work; the Dragons are theoretically on the right track. The Sta-Au, however, maintain that while the Dragons might be on to something, there’s more to finding the Sand Hills than dodging the Curse.

Outside of what the Order of Dragons knows, the reputation that precedes the Sta-Au is one of mystery and urban legend. They represent one more grave warning whispered from sire to childe about the dangers of “going nomad.” Wandering away from the city lights puts one in the center ring of a circus of monsters, and the Sta-Au are just one more bogeyman out there in the dark.

Concepts: Death-obsessed freak, exile from the Ordo Dracul, grief-struck loner, lost soul, Kindred nomad, unrepentant monster, vampiric embodiment of the Wendigo, scholar of atrocity, ghostly hitchhiker, hunter-turned-hunted

Culture, art, beauty, civilization. These are the things that attract and fascinate the Taifa, a lineage of refined and sophisticated Gangrel hailing from the Islamic lands of North Africa. Far from the stereotypical Savages, other Kindred of the region acknowledge the Moors as the protectors of civilization. From the shadows, they seek to guide and manipulate culture to better suit their tastes. Indeed, the bloodline claims to have some of the world’s most talented politicians, artists and scholars amongst their ranks. Of course, the fact that they are static, dead things does these claims little good.

Their origins lie in the glorious nights of al-Andalus, centuries ago, when the Moors invaded Spain and established some of the most advanced and sophisticated societies in the world. While the rest of Europe struggled through the Dark Ages, the Moorish kingdoms led the Islamic world into a golden age of art, culture and science. In the cities of Córdoba, Granada and Seville, Muslims lived side by side with their Christian and Jewish neighbors, making great advances in the fields of architecture, medicine, astronomy and philosophy.

All Taifa can trace their ancestry back to Hassan al-Maghrebi, a former Berber warrior and scholar who followed the armies of the Islamic general Tariq ibn Ziyad as they arrived on the Iberian peninsula. Al-Maghrebi watched as what had once been the outposts of Muslim Arab and Berber armies grew into rich and powerful cities, and he became enamored with the achievements of Moorish civilization. When Abd al-Rahman II fled to CÛrdoba and established a new Umayyad court there, al-Maghrebi infiltrated it and Embraced or made ghouls of a number of the courtiers.

Proud, inspired by the majesty of the cities of Al-Andalus and empowered by the timely concentration of his Vitae, al-Maghrebi decided to create a line of his own — one that carried on a tradition of nobility and patriotism that he would impart to them. He made a vow that all who inherited his Blood would take up the cause he so loved: to protect and bear witness to the great achievements of the conquerors of Iberia.

Very quickly, his line spread across the Iberian Peninsula, drawing in a proportion of the wisest and most talented scholars, artisans and politicos they could find. Flirting with violation of the Masquerade on occasion, their efforts aided the disparate Muslim states to flower and retain their hold in Spain despite continued war with the Christian enemy. Indeed, it is from these very states and petty kingdoms, or Taifa in Arabic, that the bloodline gained their name.

Legends of fierce, inhumanly tough Moorish warriors arose during one of many failed sieges laid by the Spanish Kingdom of Aragon, striking fear into many Spanish soldiers and attracting the attention (and ire) of observant European Kindred. Battles were fought in the Elysium courts of Spain in those nights, too, battles that brought both respect and destruction to the Taifa. Many who did not suffer Final Death in the mortal fields of war were forced to defend themselves against incensed Kindred foes, proving themselves in brutal political conflict as well as physical.

Unfortunately, the gilded splendor of Moorish Spain was not to last. Gradually, the Christian-led Reconquista was able to chip away at the Taifa states, while back-stabbing, political intrigues and more conservative Muslim states in North Africa undermined the states from within. In the year 1492 on the Christian calendar, the Christian kingdoms of Castile and Aragon united and finally overtook Granada, the last of the great Muslim cities in Iberia. The Taifa were devastated by this loss.

Worse still, the Spanish armies brought members of the European Invictus and Lancea Sanctum (and even a few Basque Acolytes) with them, intent on reclaiming the Moorish domains and driving out sympathetic vampires. The Taifa were forced into a corner, and many fled to North Africa and parts of the Middle East to find sanctuary. Only a small handful chose to remain in Spain, seeking to tend the glories of the bloodline’s past. Despite shared language, culture and religion, the Taifa initially faced difficulty assimilating into the Kindred society of the Middle East and North Africa. Other vampires already held many of the positions of power and authority in the region, and did not appreciate having naÔve foreign upstarts trying to move into their territory. Only through adept social maneuvering and well-placed alliances was the bloodline able to survive through those dark and perilous nights.

Eventually, the bloodline managed to establish a presence in many of the major cities of the Islamic world, and slowly they began to spread out once again. In Cairo, Damascus, Baghdad and Istanbul, the Taifa once again became famous as socially astute political manipulators, patrons of the arts and insightful scholars and translators. To this night, many Arab elders maintain a soft spot in their cold, dead hearts for the Taifa and their cultural achievements.

Unfortunately, the Taifa’s homelands have become a hotbed for political tensions and religious conservatism in the years following the collapse of the Ottoman Empire in the First World War. Because of this, many Taifa have once again found themselves forced to flee. Even though many Kindred still remember the glorious nights of Islamic art and scholarship, even the most powerful vampires are little match for a mob of angry mortals with torches. Hence, some Taifa have been forced to go underground, while others seek their fortunes in the West.

Those Taifa who flee (or perhaps return) to Europe, ironically, follow the migrations of mortals from northern Africa and the Middle East. While members of the bloodline have yet to make their presence felt in North America, many Taifa can be found in Europe. They are particularly strong in France, where the Taifa lurk amongst “les Beurs,” second- and third-generation immigrants of Algerian, Moroccan and Tunisian descent. For their part, French Kindred have been less than welcoming, sharing many of their mortal countrymen’s prejudices. Other Western Kindred (and mortals) harass Middle Eastern immigrants out of fears they harbor terrorists (which is, of course, little more than a racist stereotype). The future of the Taifa, especially in the West, remains to be seen. Nonetheless, the bloodline is quite politically astute and has many old and powerful allies. Perhaps they will make themselves an integral part of social life in their new homes, or perhaps they will wither and die. Only time shall tell.

Nickname: Moors, though the Taifa themselves (and many other Muslim Kindred) prefer “The Civilized

Covenant:
The Taifa prefer the Invictus (or al-Harij, as it is sometimes known in Arabic), given the covenant’s love of pomp and ceremony, and the value the covenant places on personal achievements. Naturally, in the Taifa’s homelands of North Africa and the Middle East, the lcovenant takes on far more Arab culture. For instance, members of the bloodline prefer the term Sultan instead of a ‘mere’ Prince, and Arabic phrases are often used to show learning, culture and respect. Nonetheless, beyond such culture differences, the covenant is still the ruthless meritocracy that it is in the West, and that suits the Taifa perfectly. Even under the many layers of tradition and formality, the Moors are predators, and they know it. That the Invictus allow them to claim their rightful place through their own efforts appeals to the bloodline, and for that reason, the majority of the Taifa can be found within the First Estate. Of course, far more Taifa are Harpies or Sheriffs than actual Princes, but that matters little.

The Lancea Sanctum ranks a distant second, though in the Middle Eastthe covenant adopts more Islamic imagery instead of the familiar Roman Catholic trappings of the West. Sanctified Taifa tend to be the more scholarly members of their bloodline, researching the history and sorcery of the covenant, though they are also popular missionaries due to their charisma and influence.

Some Taifa are drawn in by the fiery rhetoric of the Carthian Movement, but most consider the covenant to be boorish and crude. Few Taifa have any interest in the Circle of the Crone, but the Acolytes do count a small number of Moors amongst them who are interested in the pagan faiths of Mesopotamia, Persia and pre-Islamic Arabia who venerate al-Uzza and other pagan goddesses.

The Ordo Dracul is a fairly recent arrival in Islamic lands, and the Moors have had little contact with the covenant, but many instinctively dislike it. Theories as to why range from Dracula’s atrocities against the Turks to some ancient lore they are trying to hide from the Dragons. The truth, however, is much more direct. The Taifa don’t like the Ordo Dracul because they see the covenant as pointless. Study and self-awareness are all well and good, but it must have some sort of purpose. Vampires are not static, but rather meant to enjoy, even indulge in, all the things that the world has to offer. As far as most Taifa are concerned, the Dragons shut themselves off to the primal truths of being a vampire, and the Taifa avoid the covenant accordingly.

Appearance:
While the majority of Moors still bear the physical features common to the Middle East and North Africa, the bloodline has become quite cosmopolitan in modern nights. Regardless of race or ethnicity, members of the bloodline tend to carry themselves with confidence, dignity and elegance. Most are quite swarthy, and their skin sometimes even darkens with age. Some particularly old Taifa call to mind legendary Arab heroes such as Abu Zayid al-Hilali and ‘Antara ibn Shaddad. Many Taifa are quite attractive by local standards, and know how to use this to their advantage. They also know the value of appearances, and tailor themselves to suit the occasion. Most Taifa are just as comfortable in a Western-style three-piece suit as they are in the traditional thobe, bisht and kaffiyeh of a Bedouin tribesmen.

Haven:
Given the nature of their weakness, members of the Taifa bloodline almost always prefer communal havens, though powerful elders are more likely to simply surround themselves with broods of their childer and grandchilder (or vampiric thralls unrelated to them). The Moors almost always keep large, expensive havens, whether these are private estates or upscale apartments in larger cities. Such havens are almost always large enough to host social events, and usually are lavishly decorated with traditional and modern art. Arabic calligraphy is especially popular with the bloodline, and indeed has been for several centuries now. The most powerful and influential members of the bloodline often hold court in their private havens, complete with talented musicians, poets and entertainers to amuse their vampiric guests. One particularly common practice within the bloodline is the abuse of waqf, or properties held in trust to the government. Traditionally, wealthy families bequeathed such property to the state, and allowed their mortal descendants to stay on as caretakers. Many Taifa took advantage of this practice during the Almohad and Almoravid empires, making their havens in waqfs held by family members (or ghouls). However, the practice has mostly died out in modern, secularized states, so the Taifa can no longer use this method.

Background:
Political acumen and social skills are perhaps the most important traits to the Taifa. Beyond that, the bloodline has no particular criteria, though individual tastes do play a role. Some Taifa prefer to Embrace only mortals from certain family lineages, meticulously tracking down descendants through the years before choosing a worthy candidate. Others give the gift of eternity to preserve particularly talented artists, musicians or scholars throughout the ages. And some Moors simply Embrace out of passion, choosing whichever reasonably attractive mortals catch their eye that night. Hence, there is a great deal of variety within the bloodline. Because of their origins in Moorish Spain, the vast majority of modern Taifa hail from North Africa or the Middle East. Arabs, Berbers and Sephardic Jews dominate the bloodline, though other ethnicities are represented as well. The bulk of the bloodline is Muslim, at least in name, though again this has more to do with their history and geographic background. Christian, Jewish and even atheist Taifa all exist as well.

Gangrel not of the bloodline are usually seen as backwards cousins, treated with respect perhaps, but not as equals. Only when they can prove themselves to be more than violent savages will they win respect within the bloodline. Nonetheless, those who do impress their Avus are adopted into the Taifa following traditional Arab custom and are considered full members of the lineage.

Character Creation:
Social Attributes and Skills are almost always primary for the Taifa, though they also respect intellectual prowess as well so Mental Attributes and Skills are also appropriate. The Taifa prefer to be well-rounded, after all, and it’s good to have a broad base of knowledge when striking up conversations. Skills such as Academics, Empathy, Expression, Persuasion, Politics, Socialize, Subterfuge and even Streetwise are all useful for the bloodline. Of course, it would be a mistake to assume all Taifa are fops, and those who make that mistake quickly learn to regret it if they survive. Many Moors appreciate the value of Merits, and Social Merits of all kinds are especially common within the bloodline. Striking Looks is not uncommon, and a fair number have Encyclopedic Knowledge as well, these are hardly required. Merits such as Allies, Contacts, Resources, Status and such are far more useful.

Organization:
Despite being a very social group, the Taifa have little true organization of their own. They are numerous across North Africa and the Mediterranean, but the bloodline is plagued with numerous factions, broods and social intrigues. The most powerful, or well- connected, Taifa in a particular domain often bears the title of Sheikh (or Sheikha in the case of women), and holds private court somewhere in the city. Although the Sheikh is respected, he wields little actual authority in the bloodline. Often, he will form a small clique, competing with other Moors for status and influence. Once a month, the Sheikh will often hold an open court somewhere in the city, featuring art, music and decadence that harkens back to the courts of al-Andalus. Of course, other Taifa will often try to put on even more lavish displays to upstage the Sheikh. Beyond that, the Taifa are largely concerned with their covenant above all else.

In the West, the Taifa are often more tightly knit, if only for protection and because of the bloodline’s unique weakness. The Taifa often form small, insular broods, especially in such cities as Paris, London or New York, where there are large immigrant communities they can blend in with. Sometimes, the Moors will play up their exotic appeal to win favor with the Prince or his court. At other times, the Moors look down upon their Western cousins. Some Sheikhs have been known to even claim the much more glorious title of Emir (or prince) for themselves, believing that Western Kindred won’t speak Arabic. More often than not, these Taifa are right, but every once in a while they have been horribly wrong, much to their dismay.

Although they share little formal structure, the bloodline does share numerous traditions from their homeland. For instance, the Moors continue to preserve Arab naming conventions amongst themselves. If a vampire named Khalid was Embraced by a vampire named Ibrahim, he would be allowed to call himself Khalid ibn Ibrahim. If the vampire were Fatima, she would take the name Fatima bint Ibrahim. And Ibrahim could call himself Abu Khalid. The Taifa take great pride in their lineage, and spend a great deal of time tracking down their ancestors.

Concepts: Bedouin prince, collector of fine art, diplomat between covenants, foreign news correspondent, Islamic legal scholar, manipulative advisor, modern warrior-poet, seductive predator, social scientist, translator, oil tycoon, wealthy merchant.

The Telamones bloodline is large and, in many places, respected, believed to be descended from the original slave vampires of the Camarilla during the Roman Republic. The stories vary, but one of the Dalmatian Nosferatu imported to the Necropolis beneath Rome is rumored to have been named Telamon the Rat, and in life had been a student of the Pythagoreans, thus leading to his mastery of the mathematics necessary for the enormous engineering tasks necessary to build the catacombs. It was he who brokered the deal for freedom in exchange for service, it was he who trained the Nosferatu of Rome to dig, and it was he who made them strong enough to survive after the fall of the decadent Camarilla.

Tonight’s Telamones are free to leave the family business, but most choose to remain working as their forebears did, as their hideous mien makes it difficult to leave the warrens and tunnels they themselves are best at building. Certain names, “Miletus,” “LeFleur,” “Furniss,” seem to cycle, as small lineages crop up among the bloodline, tracing a commonly respected ancestor. When they choose to leave, they are most commonly known for havening in sewers and the dark places of the city, far from mortal eyes.

Appearance:
All Telamones descendants are similarly cursed with a familial blight, even before they accept the privilege of becoming a true member of the bloodline. Their skin turns a stony green-grey at Embrace, rough and ragged to the touch, and their eyes become red and unnaturally beady, glowing even in pitch blackness. Some manifest further physical deformities, such as lameness or withered limbs, while others develop the appearance of rodents with elongated noses and vicious buckteeth. They tend to favor simple garments of sturdy cloth that can withstand the moisture and grime of the underground life.

History and Culture:
Vampire architecture is the trade and practice of the Telamones bloodline. As the legend goes, the Telamones are not descended from a single Nosferatu, but rather a clutch of disfigured, loathsome creatures brought from the province of Dalmatia to serve the Camarilla of Rome. Little more than slaves, the leaders of the Camarilla demanded that the Telamones dig enormous winding catacombs and unearthly great halls for their depraved tastes. Most importantly, the vampires of the Camarilla demanded that the Telamones not be seen.

In exchange, the Camarilla gave them a small herd, safety from the sunlight and a voice in their ruling council. The Telamones nodded in assent, and went about their burrowing, more worms and vermin than vampires.

To serve in silence and humility, that was the Telamones way.

Such affairs have a tendency to end suddenly. This was no different. The Camarilla fell, and vampires of modern nights have few theories why. The Telamones, hidden far beneath the surface of burning Rome, were safe. They knew the secret ways out. As the patricians of Rome’s vampires were being exposed to the barbarians and the fire they brought, the Telamones were able to escape. For the first time, the Telamones were free.

The Dark Ages brought the rise of the guilds. As the Ventrue waxed fat, they demanded secret keeps for their kind. The Daeva came to seek pleasure palaces to their own vanity. The Mekhet planned beautiful temples and secret churches. All but the Gangrel came to seek the skills of the Telamones. These last stood aloof, staring from the forests with their black, hateful eyes.

The Telamones scuttled and scurried beneath the great cities of Europe. The tradition of the Overseers grew. Each century, two of the Telamones were chosen to diablerize the previous Overseers and take their place. To the Telamones, this was not a crime. The Fog of Eternity was far worse than losing the truth of the Overseers. The previous Overseers would choose their successors personally. Woe to the Overseer who neglected to select a successor, for he would be encased in the next project they finished, to await Doomsday, trapped in rock forever. Of the several hundred extant Telamones, all hope to one night be chosen as an Overseer, for it is the Overseer who is granted the privilege of being called the “Master.” It is the Master who stamps the Telamones seal, a skull writhing in rats, upon the last stone of any great Telamones project.

Tonight’s Telamones Overseers behave as an Invictus “House,” To outsiders, all Telamones look nearly identical, frighteningly so. As they have allied themselves with the First Estate, House Telamones enjoys certain rights and privileges within their Covenant, including the freedom to use an enormous number of Kindred and ghoul retainers, all Blood bound to the Overseers. It is the sheer number of the Engineers that has cowed the Invictus into ignoring the Overseers’ predilection toward Amaranth, as it reminds the Lords and Succubi who serve the First Estate of the days when they, too, could wield a huge workforce that offered absolute loyalty.

Reputation:
The average Telamones is more often an object of pity to other Kindred than actively feared. The Telamones workers know they’re expendable, and seek to keep a simple trade that will lead other Kindred to leave them be. The Overseers, however, are seen as tyrannical, vindictive and mad, even by the Invictus, who are themselves usually tyrannical, vindictive and mad.

Most Kindred who encounter a clutch of Telamones consider them to be hardworking, if slightly dim, creatures, best left not discussed, let alone invited to events. When the rare invitation to visit the vampires of the surface arrives, it is often politely rejected, since the Telamones are uncomfortable with leaving their protective darkness. The tradition of Obfuscating when in the presence of a non-Nosferatu still applies and, in fact, most Kindred might not even be aware of just exactly how many of them there are, since they all look more or less alike. A Prince might believe there to be only one or two when dozens may be scurrying below his feet. This, naturally, leads to urban legends about the legendary productivity of the Engineers, building enormous tunnels in far too short a time for their numbers.

The founder of the Asnâm bloodline was an exceptionally bold and cruel Arab vampire named Atiqua Azad. In life he was renowned for his depraved indifference to human suffering, an asset that made him extremely rich as an Arab slave trader in the late 1400s. The Embrace only perfected a nature that was already so predatory and arrogant that its actions seemed beyond sanity to ordinary people.

As a vampire, Azad continued to pursue the slave trade despite the perils of the Middle Passage. Never safe for anyone, the seafaring dangers of shipwreck or storm were doubled for one of the Kindred race. Whatever his personality, it’s a testament to Azad’s skill and courage that he succeeded as a slaver for more than 300 years.

In fact, Azad not only sold slaves to François Lelande but gouged him severely on the price. It was the first time Lelande was exposed to Majesty.

By the dawn of the 19th century, Azad stopped crossing the Atlantic. He’d fi nally overplayed his luck and survived a storm only by the slenderest of margins. When he made it back to North Africa he swore to never set foot in the Americas again. But without the excitement of his perilous journeys, Azad became restless. At that time, he was initiated into the Circle of the Crone.

The name of Azad’s mentor is a secret held tight by his bloodline (or perhaps the secret is that they themselves do not know). Clearly, Azad was taught by someone who believed Kindred were nothing less than agents of an inhuman hierarchy, existing at on a rarefied plane above and beyond the confines of mere mortal experience. The idea that he was a demon given fl esh, who could rise in time to the rank of a fallen god, was appealing to Azad’s ego and certainly explained a lot about his experience in the Requiem. With his wanderlust fi red by his a philosophy, Azad set off to the East, eventually arriving in Tibet.

To understand what happened to Atiqua Azad in Tibet, and how he came to found a bloodline known as the Asnâm, it’s important to understand the complex history of Tibetan religion. Specifi cally, one needs to understand Palden Lhamo.

(“Asnâm” is the plural form of the Arabic word “Sanam.” It means “idol,” and its connotations of worship are well suited to the children of Atiqua Azad.)

Palden Lhamo was at one time a pagan goddess of the native, animist religion of Tibet. A fearsome three-eyed figure of wrath, her story says she resisted the encroachment of Buddhist thought from India until the eighth-century reign of King Trisong Detsen. King Detsen’s guru, Shantarakshita, called upon a great tantrika named Padmasambhava. Known as “the Lotus Born,” Padmasambhava came to Tibet, persuaded the native deities to submit themselves to the Buddha and founded a great monastery that stands to this day. Palden Lhamo rejected her old ways so thoroughly that her former husband, the Cannibal King of Sri Lanka, attempted to kill her but only hit her mount in the hindquarters with an arrow.

From a Kindred perspective, there are interesting elements to this story even before a prideful interloper arrives all the way from far Araby. First off, the great Lotus Born teacher started his career in a decidedly inauspicious fashion: he was exiled for murder. Fleeing to the charnel fields where corpses were burned, he became enlightened by the visceral evidence that the things of life were meaningless. Educated by the demons there, he returned as a Buddhist emissary. As one might expect, the Acolytes have a different viewpoint of a murderer who was sent to a realm of the dead, returning with a supernatural education.

As for Palden Lhamo, her husband consumed the living, and most illustrations of the goddess show her doing the same thing. (Some Gangrel insist that because she was depicted riding a type of wild mule known to be untrainable, Palden Lhamo must have known the secrets of Animalism.) Despite her role as protectress of the pacifist Dalai Lama, paintings of Palden Lhamo show her covered with blood, ashes and corpse fat, gnawing dead bodies and wearing a wreath of severed heads and an apron of bones.

It may indeed have been her gruesome images that caught Atiqua Azad’s attention. Certainly, by the time of his disappearance in 1904, he had a huge collection of tapestries and statues of her. But at the time of his journey (in 1822), he just wanted to find out what possible incentives could have led a radiant blood goddess to meekly confine herself to what he called “the water-hearted cowardice of Buddhism.”

It is certain that Atiqua Azad entered a Tibetan mountain temple in 1822, and that when he emerged he went on to found the Asnâm bloodline. It’s less clear exactly what he did in there.

Atiqua himself claimed that he confronted the monks, debated them for a few hours and, as the night wore on, got bored and started kill- ing them. Then the goddess possessed the head nun there and fought him for a while. The fight degenerated into a theological discussion (which he claimed to have copied down word for word, but if he did, no one in his bloodline knows where that text is now). After that stalemated, they fought again. This time he killed her and devoured her purified, immortal, inhuman soul, giving him the power to create his own bloodline.

That version was the stock version for some time — after all, Azad was awake and aware and a 400-year-old monster. But after he dropped out of the scene (Dead? Torpid? Transcended into Golconda? No one’s sure), another story started making the rounds. In this version, he still fights against and talks with the goddess, but instead of killing her, he convinces her to renounce Buddhism and become pure evil again. His ability to sire the Asnâm is his reward for being her first servant.

That’s the story you get from the breakaway branch of the Sanam family, who worship their reconstituted cannibal queen version of the goddess. There’s a third version of the story wherein she whips him like dog, drives him out of the temple and remains the Dalai Lama’s unsullied protectress. That story has no explanation for how he came to found his bloodline, but most Asnâm who’ve gone to Tibet haven’t come back. The two who did make it out wouldn’t talk about what chased them away, except to say that whatever it was, it worshipped the Buddhist Palden Lhamo, knew all about the bloodline and was mad as fucking hell.

Covenant:
The Circle of the Crone holds about 60% of the Asnâm, since they explicitly believe themselves to be gods and the Circle is the covenant in which that belief fits most smoothly.

Another 10% are Invictus, typically because the Asnâm are in domains where the Invictus is dominant and where the usual Invictus/ Lancea Sanctum bond is weak. (The Lancea Sanctum despises the Asnâm on principle.)

The Carthians have about as many as the Invictus, since the Movement is often religiously tolerant and provides easy access to mortals for the Asnâm to enslave.

Twenty percent or so are unbound, for those Asnâm who cannot abide any authority beyond their own.

The Ordo Dracul has yet to recruit a Sanam for two reasons. First, few Asnâm see any need to escape or improve upon their situation. Second, no Asnâm can tolerate being anyone’s slave.

Appearance:
About half the Asnâm are of Middle Eastern descent, with the remainder being spread evenly across racial types. Most Asnâm are good-looking, and those who aren’t often possess such self-confidence that they seem gorgeous even if they aren’t. When dealing with non-Acolytes and mortals outside their cults, Asnâm dress with exquisite (and expensive) taste. When they’re directing the services that praise them, they traditionally array themselves as Palden Lhamo did. They smear their bodies with blood and the ash of corpses, they wear snake and tiger skins. A sun tattoo or drawing on the navel often accompanies a moon headdress, and a third eye painted (or, again, tattooed) on the forehead is not uncommon. They ride a mule into services, on a saddle made of human skin, and drink their Vitae from the skull of an infant born of an incestuous union.

Haven:
There are stationary Asnâm and mobile ones, and the havens of each type are distinct. A stationary Sanam typically lives in some sort of temple dedicated to herself, complete with pews, altar and sacred art depicting the triumphs of her Requiem. (Often these triumphs are exaggerated to mythic levels, or depicted in highly symbolic form. If she overcame a wealthy Invictus rival who had connections to the drug trade, her home might feature a tapestry showing her trampling the head of a vampire who’s bleeding and vomiting dollar bills, while drug traffickers flee in terror, shoot at her and miss, are devoured or are consumed by the flames of her wrath. If the tapestry were typical of Asnâm art styles, the defeated rival would be about two-thirds as tall as the Sanam, while the fleeing or dying drug thugs would be at 1/10th scale.)

Mobile Asnâm have to forego any ritual trappings they can’t transport themselves (though some travel in semis in order to put on religious ceremonies that rival rock shows, complete with smoke machines, pyrotechnics, mood lighting and platforms that rise up from under the altar). The typical haven of a traveling Sanam is the home of a worshipper. Asnâm who make their expectations clear often get exceptional comfort and defenses from their followers, especially those who bear the triple yoke of Vinculum, blood addiction and Ralab.

Background:
Asnâm almost always Embrace a worshipper who has a complete Vinculum. Childer are chosen for discretion, beauty, cunning and their ability to lure mortals. Where older Asnâm were Embraced as traveling merchants, confidence tricksters, sailors or explorers, the modern Sanam is likelier to leave a life as a performer, a journalist or an insurance investigator.

Organization:
The Asnâm have a hierarchy, but they prefer the term “pantheon.” Given their habit of Embracing only those who are already fervent (and blood-chained) believers in the mythos of Atiqua Azad, the cult’s beliefs are pretty robust. Atiqua the Goddess Devourer was at the top of the heap, and is still venerated by many Asnâm. Beneath him are his childer (and he sired a remarkable four times at least) and under them the other Asnâm of the line. Subordinate to the Asnâm proper are those Daeva who have Asnâm sires but have not yet placed themselves at the center of cults and developed the powers of Ralab. Those Daeva are considered emissary demons and not charnel deities worthy of veneration. Under the Asnâm’s Daeva agents are various ghouls, then mortal worshippers, then the vast human shit-heap that is ignorant of the faith and under them animals, insects and plants. (Not very far under, to be sure.)

Almost every Sanam worships his sire and is worshipped by his childer. The Sanam may teach their followers that there is a goddess greater than them and instruct them in their sire’s name, but most don’t. They figure their worshippers have enough to think about figuring out a way to keep one Sanam fed and happy.

Concepts: Smuggler, traveling revivalist preacher, blues musician, fortune-teller, itinerant beauty-parlor scissors sharpener, consulting psychic, self-esteem coach, New Age feel-good psychobabble merchant, skip chaser, plastic surgeon

Of all those once born of woman, the Kindred, those who have shed the coil of mortality in exchange for an eternity of Damnation, are the monsters. The Kindred are unliving souls doomed to shadow and a feast of blood. However, even among monsters, some inevitably stand out as distinctly horrific.

One bloodline so embodies the twisted curse that all vampires suffer that the bloodline’s very presence is a thing of unprecedented disgust, a vile reminder of just how inhuman the Kindred really are. Yet paradoxically, even the most disciplined Kindred, entranced by their own inability to comprehend such cruelties of Embrace, find it difficult not to stare at these piteous mockeries of flesh and bone. These Freaks are renowned for their grotesquery, each singularly deformed to the extreme, and put to shame their mortal sideshow counterparts. So accursed is the Freaks’ Vitae that it literally twists and reshapes the corporeal shells of all new members, forever warping them into forms that mimic the most egregious congenital defects suffered by the kine. No alteration is too dramatic, leaving many Freaks severely handicapped.

For all the additional pain and inconvenience they must endure due to this bizarre lineage, the Freaks possess an uncanny degree of strength that few outsiders, to their misfortune, can guess. Although largely shunned by the greater Kindred community, the Freaks share a tremendous bond with others of their ilk. Few coteries — most often simply referred to as Carnivals — are as tight-knit as theirs — and with that intimacy comes power. The Carnival may not partake in the highly visible movements of the Danse Macabre, but a Carnival, despite its public face, is always more than a mere sideshow. The Freaks’ ability to turn their seeming physical limitations into unexpected advantages provides these monsters a unique edge, allowing them to enter places no other Kindred or kine can penetrate and, just as effectively, escape from places and situations that would be impossible for others. Those witnesses unfortunate enough to see a Freak putting on the Show — the bloodline’s signature Discipline — are in for an unpleasant surprise. Unable to pull their attention away from the disturbing display before them, they are open to all manner of inimical activity instigated by the bizarre vampires. Wise Kindred avoid the Carnival if they hear that it has come to town. Fools soon find themselves much worse off for the experience.

The Carnival claims its founder was known at the height of her celebrity as Anulka, the Bohemian Mermaid, a sideshow freak who toured Europe with a small circus during the 18th century. Legend has it that Anulka was treated worse than the trained animals and was kept locked in a cage for most of her adult life, an object of ridicule and fascination who earned the owner of the circus enough lucre to forgo any consideration of Anulka’s release. The malignant barker came to a just end at the hands of a blighted Kindred named Hagal, who is said to have taken pity upon the exploited Anulka, a creature even more repulsive than himself. Hagal took her as his own childe and, with her assistance, usurped control of the circus from its fi nancial overseers.

Upon Hagal’s mysterious demise, Anulka created childer of her own, fledglings whose bodies underwent traumatic transformations as the full power of their sire’s Vitae infused them with her utterly warped psychology. Freaks like their creator and, therefore, unwelcome even among Kindred society, these childer cleaved to one another as family, and their circus became a traveling horror show, its formerly human oddities both its greatest attraction and its darkest secret.

In time, the circus became too great a threat to the Masquerade — at least that’s the story most Kindred tell — and was destroyed in a night of bloodshed and fire. Not all the Freaks met their ends, however. Those who survived fled. Later, some established their own nightmarish Carnivals with their own twisted broods. Tonight, a small number of these vile bands survive. A few provide the darkest of entertainment for other vampires, putting on the Show in Elysium in return for feeding rights or other favors. Other Carnivals travel from domain to domain to survive, playing to Kindred and kine alike as the Freaks pass through each domain, using the Show to maintain the First Tradition even as they reveal the true horror of the Requiem.

Covenant:
Rarely is the Carnival welcome among the covenants. Even rarer is the Freak who wishes to belong to these often insular societies. Few Kindred have any desire to associate with beings who so blatantly embody the hidden horror that lurks within every vampire. The Freaks’ deformities are too painful a reminder of just how far the Kindred are from the mortals they once were. For the most part, the Freaks stand outside the covenants, forming their own exclusive Carnivals — essentially a bloodline and covenant in one. The Freaks don’t necessarily hold any particular antipathy toward one covenant or another, however. They reserve their spite only for those who actively move against them, either collectively or as individuals.

The Invictus rarely opens its doors to the Carnival, unless the First Estate wishes to employ the Freaks, officially or otherwise, usually as objects of entertainment intended to add a dash of grotesque fancifulness to Elysium. Freaks are too visibly distorted for the First Estate. They resemble everything the Kindred upper crust detests. On the other hand, those Freaks who do cozy up to these powdered wigs, even if in a servile manner, can learn a great deal. Most Kindred peacocks are unable to recognize the scheming intelligence behind the eyes of a vampire with no limbs, and fewer still would deign to consider such a vampire a potential threat.

Generally, the Carthians are not much different from their dynastic cousins. Some Carthians may give lip service to lofty ideals such as equality and inner worth, but these pretenders want no more to do with a band of deformed blood-drinkers than with a pack of Lupines. The Freak who does find acceptance is still likely to face social stigmatism, making any political ascent a Herculean task, indeed.

The Kindred of the Lancea Sanctum view the Carnival in two distinctly opposing ways, depending on the personal doctrine of the believer. Some Sanctified see the Freaks as creatures doubly Damned and, therefore, worthy of pity and charity. This is fine, for nothing is an easier score than taking advantage of the foolishly naive. Some Freaks have used this attitude to exploit the Sanctified, even joining the covenant’s ranks for a time in order to reap the greatest benefit.

The danger lies in the covenant’s other view of the Carnival. Even the most doted-on charity case eventually meets with a Priest who is convinced that this bloodline is nothing more than a blasphemy that should be expunged from the world, the sooner the better. Worse, some Zealots are of the mind that the Freaks are touched by the Devil, their deformities proof that the Adversary has put his own mark upon them. These Sanctified make it a personal crusade to cleanse the city of the Carnival, and, given the overall attitude of most vampires toward the bloodline, the Sanctified rarely find too much opposition to their witch-hunt.

The Circle of the Crone is perhaps the most open to these aberrations, though the Acolytes certainly do not go out of their way to extend the Freaks any invitations. Should a disaffected Freak wish to become an Acolyte, she will likely find a place made for her at some table. Still, few Freaks are drawn into the ranks of the Acolytes, especially since the bloodline’s physical form makes it difficult to properly participate in the covenant’s rituals. On the other hand, the covenant’s belief in learning from pain is occasionally appealing, given that most Freaks are in some degree of constant pain anyway.

The only covenant that gives the Carnival real pause is the Ordo Dracul. It is rumored that at least one Freak has been initiated into the Order’s ranks, but, for the most part, the only role the Dragons have reserved for the bloodline is that of curiosity. The Dragons’ interest in how Vitae can cause gross transformative changes in Kindred makes the Freaks more likely subjects of study rather than peers.

Appearance:
Physical deformities are the defining characteristic of the Carnival. What a Freak looked like prior to joining the bloodline is largely irrelevant after her Vitae has been fully transformed into that of her new family. It might be worth noting that a character is Caucasian, French, full-bearded, large-breasted, etc., but all this falls by the wayside when compared to the horrifying changes the Carnival’s blood wreaks upon the bone and sinew of its newest members. Exactly how the individual’s body will change is anyone’s guess. Each change is unique, and no factor seems to play a determinate role in the hideous transformation. The only certainty is that the Freak is severely deformed, with some Freaks being so altered that they become virtual invalids. It is easy to see just how hellish the Requiem of a Freak can be. More on what qualifies as an appropriate deformity can be found in the discussion on the bloodline’s weakness, below.

Haven:
A Freak’s haven primarily falls into one of two categories: mobile or established. A number of Freaks are nomadic, spending only a brief time in a location before moving on. Therefore, many prefer a mobile haven, one that allows the Carnival to pack up at a moment’s notice, should trouble rear its ugly head. Given the treatment most Carnivals receive among their fellow Kindred, mobile havens are almost a necessity. Depending on the size of the Carnival, the Freaks may use a station wagon, SUV, van, truck, RV or even bus as their four-wheeled sanctuary. In some cases, the Carnival may employ more than one vehicle; in these instances, the entire group hits the road in a caravan. In some parts of the world, actual wagons, drawn by steeds usually fortified with the blood of their undead masters, are still employed for this purpose.

All conveyances share aspects in common. First, rarely does a Carnival have the funds for something new. Motor vehicles are usually at least a decade old and held together with as much spit as welds. At least one member of the Carnival often possesses the mechanical know-how to deal with the regular maintenance required to keep the vehicle moving. Not only are such rolling heaps of scrap metal inexpensive to obtain, they tend to offer substantial advantages over newer models. Older vehicles are usually heavier and sturdier. They offer far more protection from minor accidents and rough roads. Older vehicles also go unnoticed far more so than glittering new coupes just off the assembly line, affording the Carnivals the veil of the Masquerade.

Finally, although older vehicles do require frequent repairs, the work is relatively simple and requires only basic tools. De facto mechanics can find parts in most junkyards on the cheap. Compare this to the downtime required to fix a newer car, and an older car makes perfect sense. Almost universally, these vehicles sport blacked-out windows or at least some means to keep out the sun, as well as sturdy locks. More than one Carnival also uses menacing dogs to guard the caravan during daylight hours, which is usually not too much of an attention-getter given the Freaks’ preference for parking in out-of-the way spots, such as junkyards, abandoned industrial zones and similar places. (For more ideas on mobile havens and survival on the road, see the Vampire supplement Nomads.)

Despite the safety that mobility offers, some Freaks choose the protection of something more permanent. The greatest advantage to this is that the Carnival can establish an enduring sideshow, which in turn creates a reliable herd for the Freaks to feed from without having to face the unknown night after night. The downside, of course, is that the Freaks have to find some degree of acceptance among the city’s other Kindred, even if only on the surface.

Again, the Freaks’ reputation precedes them, and few Princes are willing to permit the Carnival to set up shop in their domains. Even if only a fraction of the heinous stories told about this bloodline are believed to be true, suffering the presence of the Freaks is out of the question for all but the most sympathetic, apathetic or scheming Kindred lords. However, given that most vampires who have clawed their way to the top of the Kindred social order probably qualify as the latter, some Princes have admitted the Carnival, albeit usually with special restrictions to ensure that such mercy does not come back to haunt them.

Urban havens are usually established in places that afford the Freaks both privacy and drama. For them, the haven is not only where they hide away from the sun but also a stage to be used to lure curious kine into their grotesque company. Forsaken warehouses, factories, tenements and similar structures prove to be excellent havens. Inside, the Freaks do quite a bit of remodeling, even if it’s not apparent to visitors. Numerous hidden passages, escape routes and redoubts are created, along with areas where the foolhardy can gather to gaze upon the outlandish feats of the Carnival, unaware that they have walked into a trap.

Part boudoir, part salon, part theater, part bunker and part charnel house, a Freak’s haven is her domain in the truest sense of the word, a place in which no one else, living or otherwise, can find comfort. Even welcomed guests have a hard time stomaching the disturbing blend of showmanship and nightmare evidenced not only in the demeanor of the host, but in the furnishings and decoration that pay homage more to Bosch’s infamous Garden of Earthly Delights than to Barnum’s big top.

Character Creation:
Aside from the matter of the precise nature of the deformity the character suffers, a player should consider how the character compensates for that flaw, even if indirectly. A Freak whose legs completely withdraw into his torso still needs a way to get around. This could mean a board with wheels, a carriage pushed by a Retainer or simply a much greater reliance upon his arms for propulsion, using them literally as replacements for his missing limbs.

For obvious reasons, Physical Attributes are tremendously valuable to the Carnival. Feeding is difficult enough without having to deal with such things as vestigial hands, malformed jaws, oversized and useless feet and so on. To overcome these afflictions, the character should consider at least one Specialty that counterbalances his weakness. Athletics Skill Specialties are especially common among Freaks. For example, a “Lobster Boy” ancilla whose hands are too horribly deformed to be used for most ordinary tasks might specialize in Foot Dexterity, enabling him to use his toes in place of his fingers, while another Freak cursed with backward-jointed knees and condemned to travel on all fours might specialize in Scrambling or even Climbing.

Despite the emphasis on physical capability, few Freaks rely on might and agility alone to make it through the night. Mental and even Social Attributes can be the character’s real forte. Allowing others to fall prey to the false assumption that the bodily handicaps so evident are indicative of other personal shortcomings is a hallmark of this bloodline. Because few Kindred wish to spend enough time around the Carnival to learn the truth about the Freaks’ inherent strengths and weaknesses, Kindred are often easier to manipulate, usually to their detriment.

Freak characters don’t trust their bodies alone to reel in the dupes. Most Freaks have at least one trademark gimmick, stunt or talent they use to ply their audience to enhance the Show. Fortune-telling, driving nails into their head, sword-swallowing, magic acts: all are popular. Practically the only thing these bizarre vampires won’t do to enthrall an audience is play with fire.

Emphasis on Expression, Persuasion and Subterfuge is particularly appropriate for these characters — anything that aids them in putting on a show. Ultimately, a Freak character has to be playable, and that means he must be able to hunt, find safety from sunlight and not spend every moment fl eeing from hunters, whether Kindred or kine. A well thought-out combination of Attributes, Skills, Specialties and Merits, along with a bit of luck and camaraderie can see even the most sorely deformed to victory, even if it is only one night at a time.

Organization:
The Carnival is not just a bloodline but a full-fledged society akin to the Invictus or the Carthian Movement. True, the Carnival is admittedly too small both in number and reach to claim to be a covenant, but, for all other intents and purposes, the Carnival functions as one. Its members share a number of customs and practices along with a body of lore unknown to outsiders. They have their own pecking order and their own brand of justice tailor-made for the Carnival. Most important, they stick together. Few, if any other, Kindred suffer as these misshapen creatures do, and that suffering binds them together in a way that even Blood cannot.

Each Carnival — the term refers to the bloodline as a whole as well as to an individual coterie — is led by a single Freak, who is responsible for ensuring that the entire group is safe from sunlight, discovery by mortals and Kindred harassment. In return for this leadership, this Freak receives a payment from each member of the Carnival who wishes to put on her own show. This Privilege, as it is called, usually consists of a Vitae tithe, ensuring that the Carnival’s leader can spend his time guaranteeing the safety of the Carnival, rather than looking for sustenance. Freaks who have spent at least a year or so with the Carnival usually enter into this agreement; those who have spent less time have to wait until they have a little more experience under their belt first. The Carnival also attracts a few benighted Kindred unrelated to the bloodline proper who wish to join its twisted ranks, as well as a number of kine who handle all the sundry tasks necessary to the safety of the Carnival as well as the success of the Show.

The bloodline’s roots may be in Eastern Europe, but the Carnival’s greatest numbers are in North America. Here, the circus and, later, the carnival found their greatest popularity, and, here the Carnival continues to exploit this historical fact. Although few ordinary carnivals and sideshows remain in business tonight, the Carnival continues to serve the very powerful, albeit mostly unspoken, need of the kine to witness oddities, blasphemies and outright horrors of humanity in what seems to be a safe environment. Whether as a traveling show that quietly advertises ahead of its arrival in order to drum up a crowd or as a semi-permanent spectacle that holds regular shows for a steady stream of the curious, the Carnival finds no lack of an audience and, thereby, no lack of a fresh supply of blood.

Concepts: The Alligator Lady, The Astonishing Merman, The Frog Man of Borneo, The Girl With No Face, The Human Skeleton, The Irish Leprechaun, The Missing Link, The Rubber-Skinned Woman, The Two-Headed Man, The Vampire Worm of Old Spain

SAMPLE DEFORMITIES
Skin Afflictions: Scaly or rough skin of a reptilian or elephantine appearance; excessively loose skin.

Hirsutism/Baldness: Excessive hair or baldness.

Missing/Extra Limbs: Completely or partially lacking arms, legs, hands or feet, as well as possessing extra limbs, wholly or partially.

Deformed Limbs: Any variety of disfigurement of the arms, legs, hands or feet, which can include altered shape, fusion or hyper-extended joints.

Deformed Torso: A trunk that can bend in any direction and is often forced into an unnatural position by default.

Emaciation/Obesity: Condition leaving the Freak almost impossibly slender or large.

Facial Deformation: Shrunken head, pinhead syndrome, extra ears, missing lower jaw or any other grotesque abnormality of the head.

Many other deformities exist and can be used, provided they are severe enough or are used to simply add more horror to the Freak.

The Nosferatu of the Cockscomb Society do not wallow in their pitiful visages or grotesque leanings, nor do they celebrate them. They think of these things as a bit of a handicap, perhaps, but not insurmountable. It’s a curse. Why welcome it? They endeavor then to reject the trappings of Nosferatu tribalism: they don’t live underground, don’t reveling in being reviled, and most certainly do not accept a low rung on society’s ladder simply by dint of unfortunate breeding. Part of this involves keeping connected with the human world—they may have monstrous blood and a hissing Beast, but they were once mortals, by god. They have a human side that shan’t be repressed.

Some might say, though, that they get it wrong. They equate “humanity” not with a spiritual quality but instead associate with human society: the acquisition of assets (money, property, items of status), the attendance of mortal events (dinners, dances, parties, balls), the mimicry of all things human (emotion, relationships, manners, body language, slang). That’s not to say they don’t connect with the culture of the Damned—in fact, they strive for power in that way, as well, accepting that such a goal is still human even if it’s performed amidst unliving fiends.

Nickname: Gents, Gals (as in, “Ah, you’re a Cockscomb Gent! I see the black rooster on your lapel.”)

History and Culture: This “Society” got its start with Potter Woolsthorpe Wycombe in the late 19th century. Wycombe, a Nosferatu, was one of the few vampric members of a local hellfire club called “the Abbey.” He helped supply these taboo-smashing humans secure “assets” for their little soirees and “erotic gardens.” He brought them other vampires. The humans feasted and fucked. They used the captive Damned as toys and toilet paper, teaching the monsters that they did not know what it meant to be a monster. Wycombe did not involve himself in such activity except when it pleased him: he did it for money, and to destroy his enemies, not for any perverse thrill.

Then came the night that Wycombe came to realize what he had done, what he had become. Why the revelation, few know. He won’t say (and Wycombe is still out there, make no mistake of that). Some whisper he saw an angel. Other stranger stories tell of a night where Wycombe sat at a nook table across from his Beast. They supped cups of blood. And the Beast tried to get him to sell his soul to, well, the Devil. Wycombe apparently refused and resolved to put himself on a path to… not righteousness, not really, but a path to humanity.

It didn’t work as perfectly as he had planned, though he and most members of the Cockscomb Society seem oblivious to that fact. First, their mimicry of humanity is not actually an embrace of the human experience, it’s a hollow quest to appear human. Second, Wycombe’s origins in the hellfire club seem to haunt his brood: as noted, they cannot help but give in to languor, answering boredom with sin. Secret sin, of course: they do not publicize their deviations. That could ruin them.

Reputation: Honestly, they have a pretty good reputation. Yes, they’re Nosferatu, but they seemed so well-mannered, so clean, so articulate. They aren’t brutes and oddities, not for the most part. Nicely tamed, they talk the talk, walk the walk. That doesn’t stop the sinister whispers, but few believe them. Stories of the Cockscomb Gents and Gals out there given over to potent ennui and thus giving in to great debauchery… well, it can’t be true, can it? All that blood and nudity? The gorging and regurgitating? The gross usury and rampant avarice? They seem so refined for Nosferatu. It’s probably just rumor.

For many Damned, the hunt is a simple thing, a thing of whim, subsistence without a plan. A vampire enters the night, finds a target and then he feeds. Lather, rinse, repeat. The Gangrel tend to do things a bit differently: One pack of hungry Savages might harry prey into a pit trap and then slowly descend upon their captive meal, while another lone Gangrel might instead let his hunger get the best of him to the point where he’s little more than a rampaging thing of pure craving, a thing that hunts without grace.

The Hounds of Actaeon — or, simply, the Hunters — have their own way of putting blood in their bellies. They hunt like humans hunt animals: with rifle or spear, with arrow or 12 gauge. It isn’t for sport, not for most of the Hunters. No, this is about feeding. About performing a sacred duty that goes back a long ways, indeed.

History and Culture: The story of this bloodline’s nativity is right there in the name: They are, they believe, descended from the Hounds of Actaeon. In case you don’t know the story, it’s this: Actaeon was a Theban hero and friend to the centaur called Cheiron. He was also an able hunter, but one day he made a grave error. The hero came upon the goddess Artemis bathing, and he stared in awe at her nakedness. She saw him ogling her and cursed him with a threat: he shall never speak again (so as not to tell anyone what he saw), or he would pay for that transgression. Of course, when Actaeon heard the calls of his own hunting party, he cried out.

Oops. That’s when Artemis turned his hunting party into vicious hounds and turned Actaeon himself into a stag. The hounds tore apart the stag.

Whether true or not, the Hunters of this bloodline believe that technically, the hunting party wasn’t turned into actual hounds, but into starving Kindred, and Actaeon was not turned into anything but what he already was: a human being filled with precious blood.

The “tearing him apart” portion of the story is the Hounds’ greatest shame, though. One of the bloodline’s chief conceits is to recognize that the attack on Actaeon was a graceless, frenzied attack. An indiscretion in which the purity of the hunt is lost.

And so, they attempt to recapture that purity through regular hunting parties where the prey is, nearly always, human, the “Most Dangerous Game.” They hunt the way the Native Americans might have, or how more thoughtful human hunters might now: with spear, arrow, rifle or shotgun. They track prey. They aim to kill, not to wound. They pray over the body whether still alive or dead. And, most importantly, they endeavor to use all parts of the “animal.” Blood is food. Fat goes to soap. Skin makes a kind of leather that can be used as clothing or cording (tendons, too, make for good cord, cord that can go toward holding a blood skein at one’s side or can help string up dead prey to let it “bleed out”). Bone makes for simple weapons or armor (though is most commonly used for decoration, given that Hunters generally dress like woodsmen or sportsmen). While heads make fine trophies, rarely do the Hunters keep trophies unless the prey was of some note.

Reputation: Those who know of the Hounds grant them a reputation of mercilessness, of vicious blood hunts and callousness. Yes, that’s true for some, especially those who let their Beasts get the better of them, but that’s not the standard. The Hunters aren’t particularly human, and they have Humanity scores to match their actions. But they aren’t cruel. They don’t torture. This isn’t a personal thing. It’s about food. It’s about use. About a sacred tradition and honoring their predatory graces. Sometimes, they come across as downright icy about it, having written off any moral compunctions that might come with the act of hunting human beings. Still, though, the reputation is as wild hunters out of control, mad packs of brutal thugs stalking and torturing prey.

In the lightless murk of the world’s waters, a horrifying line of monstrous Gangrel dwell, silent and predatory. Concealed beneath the icy waves of northern shores or walking in the murky silt of the blood-warm bayou, they wait to drag their living victims down under the surface to feed upon or present as sacrifice in their warped, wordless rituals. No material goods of the walking world tempt them and no fire threatens them. They are the Mara, the drowned Kindred, the witch-kin of a Goddess both tragic and merciless.

Those few who know the Mara come to understand that they worship a being known as the Sunken Mother, a Tethys-like fi gure who appears, in their litanies, to have birthed the waters of the world by a union with a titanic sun god. They say she loved and cared for all her countless children, laying them upon the earth and showing them how to spawn a multitude of creatures so that they need never dwell empty and alone. Her attention was so devoted, so focused upon them, that her lover burned with violent jealousy. Eventually, unable to accept that the waters could be more important to the Mother than he was, he took up her body, searing her fl esh, and fl ung her into the depths where she drowned. Shamed by the part they played in her death and hungry for justice, the waters took the lessons of the Sunken Mother and created the Mara as her Kindred grandchildren so that they might wreak bloody vengeance on the God of the Day and his worshippers.

The true origins of these dark, deeply faithful vampires are difficult to discern. It seems that their litany is a mish-mash of ancient Greco-Roman, Celtic and Germanic myths, and it’s almost impossible to determine whether those elements precede the more accessible mortal legends or if they’re drawn from them. One wonders: did ancient Saxon tribes witness a Mara’s vicious attack at a lakeshore and name her Nixe, or did early Mara style themselves after these legends, building a sinister myth to justify their activity? Over the centuries, it has become increasingly difficult to unravel the reality from the fable. Very few accurate reports of ancient vampiric activity remain in modern nights, and none of those mention the Mara or anything like them at all. Those Kindred who are old enough to know are victims of the fog of long torpor, suffered several times over in most cases, and can contribute little in the way of illumination. Even the eldest of the Mara themselves are unable to attest to their own origins, having slumbered too long or too frequently to speak with any authority on their first nights.

Although they don’t keep their own history, there is an early record of a meeting between the Mara and a representative of the Lancea Sanctum. Some time during the 11th century, a Sanctified scholar calling himself Brother Erik, who appears to have been charged with surveying the Kindred population of a portion of northern England, wrote a record of his discoveries. Among the entries, a short passage refers to the bloodline. A rough translation follows:

“ … in proximity to the fortress of Mamucium, now long past, a market town is formed of no more than 200 souls. The town has lost some folk and many heads of cattle to the shores of a nearby river. They are often found days or weeks later, floating there. My investigation of the waters has uncovered a cabal of ungodly Kindred wretches calling themselves ‘Mara,’ damned creatures of extraordinary ugliness and violence. My attempts to bring the missive of Longinus to these horrors met with naught but a most undeserved hostility. With a gnashing of their yellowed fangs, they threatened bloody murder if I remained at the shores of their ‘holy mother,’ and I withdrew.”

Whether or not the Lancea Sanctum chose to act on Brother Erik’s discovery is unknown at this time. The region he refers to in the text would correspond roughly to the modern location of Manchester, and it’s likely the river he mentions is the Irwell (or the Mersey). There are no other references to the Mara in those areas in Kindred records, and whether or not they remain there now is unknown.

Some time during the 16th century, the Kindred of Copenhagen are said to have encountered a family of the Mara in their harbor waters and made peace with them there. These Danish Mara even emerged to attend Elysium on several occasions, engaging in negotiation for territory and presenting gifts of honor to the Prince. Conflict arose between them and the land-based Acolytes of the Circle of the Crone, though, resulting in the Final Death of one of the bloodline. The rest withdrew to the ocean, and relations with the domain were brought to an end. There are scattered reports throughout Northern Europe of further encounters, most ending just as badly. Late in the 19th century, Mara are said to have made appearances in several domains of the American South, prompting speculation that one or more may have arrived with sea-borne trade from across the Atlantic. Limited attempts were made to purge or otherwise discourage the Mara from settling on American shores, but the difficulty in verifying their presence (or lack thereof) led to a great deal of wasted effort.

In most territories around the world, the Mara refrain from making contact with other Kindred wherever possible. The Mara prefer to be left alone, hunting and practicing their worship in peace, away from the prying eyes of outsiders. Suspicious of land-dwelling vampires and taught to believe that all surface creatures are either enemies of the Sunken Mother or have forgotten their loyalties to her, the Mara rarely stray from the waters.

Mara in the modern world are, one imagines, very much as they were in the dark centuries of long ago. They may have more modern abodes (the reservoirs of more than one city are known to have housed them, as are a number of wrecked submarines and ships), but their ritual practice and ascetic existence have remained essentially unchanged. They are as inhuman as ever, and as mysterious.

Covenant:
The overwhelming majority of the Mara are Acolytes of the Circle of the Crone. Their malicious ritual practices and severe austerity are alienating influences, forcing a powerful divide between their members and the more moderate, politically active Kindred of other covenants. A lack of understanding often prevents peaceful interaction on both sides: the Lampreys rarely reconcile themselves with the mannerly posture of Kindred culture and outsider vampires often can’t see past the mud-and-blood accoutrements of the bloodline.

There are a few Mara who have been “civilized” by outsider Kindred. Inducted into a covenant by some enthusiastic outsider, these Mara are often paraded around Elysium as an example of the edifying qualities of their new membership. Most chafe against the constant attention and enthused expectations that accompany these “uplifting” conversions though, and eventually return to the chill embrace of dark waters, even if they no longer wish to participate in the rituals of the Circle of the Crone.

The rare Lampreys who find satisfaction outside the Circle are almost always numbered among the scholars of the Ordo Dracul. Acting against type, these Mara seek an intellectual road to enlightenment and discover their true path in the Coils of the Dragon. These Kindred are often more surprised with their choice than anyone else, and will take pains to conceal their true lineage.

Appearance: The Mara care little for the fashions of dress and grooming in the surface world. More often than not, they clothe themselves in the ragged, waterlogged remnants of their last living day’s attire — those who don’t go completely nude, that is. Most are caked with the mud or weeds of their haven, and leave their hair to tangle freely, untouched by comb or shear. Ritual scarring or tattooing during Crúac rites is the only practice of the line that approaches stylish self-expression.

Those who do choose to emerge from the safety of their murky havens in search of Kindred company (or a misguided attempt to mix with the mortal world) may take pains to locate clothing and conceal their wild existence with a quick, cursory scrub. Rarely are these attempts entirely successful, though, and even those few who manage to look the part of a “normal” vampire often carry the scent of their home territory — bog, sea or sewer — unawares.

Those few “civilized” Lampreys who dwell among the Kindred of outsider covenants are usually cared for by mortal servants who take great pains to eliminate evidence of their origins. Before any public appearance, these poor creatures are scoured, perfumed, plucked, styled and wrapped in appropriately fashionable coverings. The process is almost always interminably torturous for all participants, and is generally avoided unless the appearance is absolutely necessary.

Haven:
Because of their weakness, all of the Mara dwell in or near a body of water that is large enough to cover them completely. Beyond that basic need, the actual details and features of the haven are chosen in accordance with the individual tastes of the vampire, and can vary from the filth and horror of a toxic industrial well to the sublime beauty of a coral-sculpted ocean hollow. Many make use of the Haven of Soil (Protean ••) to merge with the waters of their homes during slumber and choose havens that they feel best reflect their souls’ truth.

Whatever the superficial details of her home, a Lamprey will take pains to become intimately familiar with its features. She will feed on the fauna, just to learn the taste of its Vitae (even if she is too potent to sustain herself upon it); she will wrap herself in its flora and dig her body down into the silt that lies at its bottom. She will run her fingers over every surface, every pit and growth, identifying it with her own body and working to extend her perceptions to its natural ebb and flow. This is an important ritual for the Mara, and serves a double purpose: it helps the vampire accept her new home as a place of comfort and it gives her a sense of the normal state of the surroundings, the better to alert her if something is amiss.

It is common for the Mara to band together and share a large haven. Some of the lakes, shores and swamps of the world are claimed by Circles of the bloodline, rumored to number five or six members in some cases (and even as many as a dozen Acolytes in one particularly horrifying, oft-told tale among the Kindred of the Louisiana Bayou). These vampires will completely dominate a body of water, ruling it as a domain of their own. Difficulties in maintaining the Masquerade can arise when a single haven is too populous, but no more so than in any surface territory.

Background: The cold, frightening Embrace of the Mara is rarely bestowed upon mortals, and never without careful consideration. Not many of the living are both physically and spiritually hardy enough to survive induction into the deep cult of the Lampreys without going mad. Even the strongest of candidates often barely endure the terrifying, submerged Embrace, and more than a few end up drowned before they can take their sire’s Vitae. Those mortals drawn to water are often watched with interest, and of those, the ones who gravitate to traditional belief and practice (instead of modern religion) are considered ideal candidates. Independence is a valuable asset: a number of survivalists and reclusive artists on solitary retreat have ended up among the ranks of the Mara.

The Mara rarely Embrace wealthy mortals. The Mara find that the resulting neonates are often unable to abandon their previous habits, and cannot properly acclimatize themselves to the ascetic Requiem of the bloodline.

Character Creation:
Physical Attributes are of primary importance in satisfying the survival needs of the Mara, especially because of the rigorous demands of their feeding practices. Those who cannot rely upon their speed and strength alone to locate and retrieve sources of Vitae rarely last long enough to devote the necessary attention to the spiritual pursuits of the Circle. Attendant Physical Skills, most especially Athletics, Brawl and Survival, are logical priorities as well. While material Merits are much rarer than Physical or Social ones, nearly every Lamprey has a sizable, naturally secure Haven.

Organization:
Circles of the Mara are usually relatively small, and so their function is much more informal than most. The eldest of the group defaults to the position of Hierophant (and is often the sire or grandsire of the rest of the Acolytes) and leads the others in rituals, in group hunts and in any dealings with outsider Kindred. If the Circle dwells in a group haven, the location will be the Hierophant’s choice. If not, the others come to her home at least twice a week to conduct their rites and receive her wisdom. Keeping frequent (or constant) company not only helps to cement the ties of loyalty in the line but also makes it easier to keep an eye on those members who are suffering from the temptations of the surface world.

Over the centuries, Mara Acolytes have developed a complex language of hums and clicks that they often use to communicate under the surface. One of the first things each member of the line learns is how to understand and speak as his fellow Mara do, so as to enable participation in the holy rites of the line. All of the Crúac rituals of the Mara are performed in this language, and the entirety of their litany (which is exclusively oral — there are no written records) is likewise encoded.

While the worship by the Lampreys is isolationist and xenophobic in group practice, individual Mara without the support of close relations (whether by accident or design) are known to emerge from the deep on occasion and join up with a surface Circle. Their dripping, sullen presence may be a source of discomfort for more urban, modern Acolytes, but the Mara are no less devoted or talented in their veneration. Some Kindred are frankly fascinated by the mythology of the Mara and eager to hear translations of their litany, slow and difficult as they may be, and many of the line are more tolerant of outside interpretations when separated from their inward-looking under-dwelling Circles.

Each Mara cult prepares a central ritual space for their prayers and rites. The space is usually deep in dark waters, the better to hide it from the prying gaze of the surface world, but really only needs to be submerged enough to allow the Lampreys freedom to move and feed within it. An altar of stone or metal generally marks the center of the space and may be surrounded with decorations as elaborate or sparse as the Acolytes prefer, but these additions are often camouflaged so as to seem random. Many of the Mara choose ritual spaces that are naturally formed, if possible, so as to avoid suspicion in the event of accidental discovery.

Each week, the Mara gather twice to venerate the Sunken Mother and her progeny. On the first evening in the week (as determined by local practice — in some places it’s Sunday night, in others it’s Monday), they come together and sing a dirge-like humming prayer, commemorating the birth of the waters, the murder of their Goddess and the spawning of their line from the aftermath. In midweek, normally three nights after the previous ritual, they return to the ritual site and perform an eerie, silent rite meant to reassure the waters and reiterate their intent to commemorate the Sunken Mother. A carefully prepared, live surface creature is cut open and allowed to bleed out below the waters. A slow, undulating dance in the cloud of dissipating blood follows, and the Mara take it in whenever it crosses their path. The rest is left for the waters to carry away. After the dance is complete, the Lampreys are free to discuss the needs of the Circle and perform any Crúac rituals appropriate for the week.

In addition to the weekly rites, there are two annual holidays celebrated by the Mara. The first commemorates the occasion of the spring thaw, and accompanies the cracking of the ice in the temperate zones of the world (or is symbolically marked in March in the Northern Hemisphere, October in the South). It is a jubilant, energetic affair, celebrating the release of the waters and the relative ease with which the Mara may feed. Kindred in torpor are often ceremonially awakened on the first night of the thaw.

The second is a more solemn rite, marking the winter freeze. Once again, in temperate climes, the date is varied and depends on the actual physical formation of ice over the ritual space. In warmer zones, where the water never freezes, a ceremony is still held — in December in the North and May in the South. In all cases, this holiday is a somber, funereal affair as the Mara acknowledge the yearly binding of their holy mothers and the relatively difficult feeding season they now face. Some Mara choose to enter torpor for the winter voluntarily, and will be placed to rest in the ritual space on this night.

Concepts: Chattering mud witch, creature in the well, deepwater spiritual visionary, dockworker’s bane, heartbroken mermaid, Invictus Liza Doolittle, reservoir monster, vengefully Embraced real estate agent, whispering strangler, wild-eyed swamp cultist

Crúac:
The practice of Crúac among the Mara is distinct and extremely focused on the bloody loss of their Sunken Mother, as well as the recurring themes of drowning, rising from the deep and war with the sun god. All rituals are performed in or under a quantity of water, and the peculiar humming dialect of the line is integral in invocations.

There is little in the Kindred world as alien to human experience as the practice of the Mara. Witnesses to their eerie, slow dances and the mingling of their tangled hair or bone-pale flesh with waterborne blood is enough for most to assume the Mara are, and can only be, thoroughly monstrous beings.

Ritual Variation: The Mother’s Eye (Cheval, •• Crúac Ritual)

When a Lamprey wishes to see or hear through the eyes and ears of a surface-dwelling creature, the Mara must make serious preparation. At the beginning of the ritual, she sinks to the bottom of her ritual space, humming a quiet prayer of appeasement for the close contact she intends to make with the dry world above. When her prayer is complete, she floats back upwards, allowing herself to surface.

When next she sees the subject of her ritual, she must cut across one of her eyes with a sharp stone taken from the floor of her sacred space. She tips her head back, allowing her Vitae to pool in the socket. When she submerges again, clearing the blood away and healing the eye, the ritual will be active.

Among the Kindred, the passion of the Daeva is legendary. The lurid tales of the Harpies often include warnings about the dangers of allowing one’s Vices to take control, using the Daeva as an object lesson. Young neonates content themselves with the thought that such loss of control could never happen to them.

They have never met the Xiao. This Daeva bloodline draws in those around them into excesses of emotion, setting a standard for self-indulgent behavior that few can match. Those who try soon fall prey to the Xiao’s own manipulations.

Xiao Tianpàn was a Daeva Embraced during the height of the Qing dynasty, as corruption and greed began to spread through the nation. In life, he was a bureaucrat of the nation, employed as a ghoul by an elder Daeva of the Ordo Dracul for the purpose of increasing influence within the structured court of the Emperor. Serving as a long-term ghoul to a vice-ridden vampire, Tianpàn was well acquainted with the difficulty that the Daeva had holding on to their emotions, and when his sire chose to Embrace him, Tianpàn felt equally gifted and cursed.

While Tianpàn appreciated the immortality that the Embrace granted, he had no wish to become a slave to his passions, and spent the early years of his Requiem trying to restrain his urges and desires. Despite his best efforts, he found that his pride led him to rash actions that he would never have taken in life. As the 19th century dawned, and the dynasty waned, amidst the increasingly rampant corruption and violence of the land, Tianpàn took action. Taking the legendary passion of the Daeva and twisting it, he remade himself, hoping to escape his curse.

By Tianpàn’s standards, the attempt was a terrible failure. He discovered that he had forged a newfound connection to the passions of others instead of his own; as a result, his emotions ran rampant, and restraining them became thoroughly impossible. Bitter and vengeful, he began to use his newfound capabilities to manipulate the others, using their passions to bring them down to his level. In the process, he discovered that he took real pleasure in toying with his victims — almost as much as feeding from them, and the endgame, the complete self-destruction of a person as a result of his maneuvering, was a difficult and intriguing achievement that drew Tianpàn into further study. With each exploration of his newfound power, with each mortal who was ruined or destroyed, Tianpàn pushed his own failures further to the side. Eventually, he could almost pretend that he had always meant for this to happen.

Years passed, temptation grew and Tianpàn sired three childer, drawing them from the ranks of those whom he had preyed upon. Each of the three had been a person ruined by passion in life, whose ill-considered actions had brought failure upon his head. All chose to follow him down the path of the Blood that he had created, and his bloodline began in earnest. They took Tianpàn’s family name as their own in tribute to him, enshrining his failure for all eternity. Each sired in turn, and within a century, there was a small but thriving population of Xiao throughout China. Xiao Shan, one of Tianpàn’s childer, undertook the dangerous journey across the Pacific to the United States in the late 1800s, his curiosity at this young land overcoming his familial loyalty. There, he slowly began to spread the curse of the Xiao as well, working through the corrupt politicians of the day. Now, the Xiao range throughout China and the United States, encouraging their prey to destroy themselves through their own selfish desires.

Xiao Tianpàn himself fell into torpor early in the 20th century, and has not yet emerged. Without him, the Xiao have fractured and scattered. Those who are most traditional follow in the footsteps of their clan founder, hoping to awaken him and aid him in his quest. Others simply enjoy manipulative play, working to unleash their hidden desires and watch the disastrous outcome. Most of the Xiao who bother to rationalize their behavior perversely consider themselves agents of justice. After all, they argue, a true innocent would face no danger from his or her own passion, and, therefore, any harm that comes to the Xiao’s prey is entirely his or her own fault. A few of the Xiao, especially those in North America, combine this misplaced sense of judgment with a desire for justification; by seeing how passions bring others down, the Xiao hope that they can somehow prove that they are no worse than their victims.

While the power of the Xiao is rarely overtly supernatural, their presence seems to sow chaos and uncertainty in the domains that host them. As they rarely bother to concern themselves with the long-term impact of their actions, they can easily upend social orders and sunder alliances simply by encouraging the wrong emotions at the wrong times. Indeed, some Xiao have been known to cause the fall of Princes without taking any overt actions, and a cautious ruler does not suffer the Xiao’s presence gladly.

Covenants:
Xiao in Asia find themselves frequently drawn to the Ordo Dracul, whose emphasis on research and understanding appeals to those who think as their founder did. In the Ordo Dracul, the Xiao can continue to explore their condition, further mastering their natures in an effort to overcome their weaknesses — because of this, the Order remains the most popular of the covenants to join. Xiao within the Ordo Dracul often lend their passion to driving discovery forwards, and their mastery of passion lends itself to greater understanding of the connection between passion and the Beast. However, Xiao rarely rise high in the Ordo Dracul, as their uncontrolled emotions make it difficult to have the clinical restraint that many members of the covenant respect most. A number of Xiao (most famously Shan, childe of Tianpàn) have been ejected from the Ordo Dracul because of inappropriate behavior.

It is traditional for Xiao Dragons to undertake the quest to join the Sworn of the Dying Light and pledge themselves to the relentless study of the emotional weaknesses of Kindred — specifically, the tendency to vice and frenzy. Many pursue the Coil of the Beast in their studies, hoping that by mastering the understanding of its unconscious power, they can learn to direct their own passionate outbursts.

Other Xiao, however, gravitate to the Circle of the Crone, intrigued by its forbidden rites, ancient mysteries, blood magics and practice of unleashing the primal Beast. By joining the Circle, those Xiao who have chosen it seek to free themselves from restraint, often becoming more depraved and more violent than most of their kin. These vampires feel that they are holding more true to the spirit of their founder with their abandon, but they are, in fact, abiding instead by the warped rationale of his later waking years. Xiao Acolytes are extremely dangerous, blithely justifying their indulgences as they carry out the meticulous destruction of mortal hopes and aspirations. Many fall into a rapid decline of Humanity, becoming indefensibly cruel in their manipulative play. Acolytes of the Circle often believe that Xiao are talented channelers of discord and primal rage, affording them a measure of respect as a result.

The other covenants do not hold much in the way of attraction for the Xiao, and often do not make an effort to tolerate them. The passionate Carthian Movement and the fervent Kindred of the line have some commonalities on the surface, but the Sirens are uninterested in social change on a grand scale; they tend to work on the understanding that if someone powerful falls, that person will simply be replaced by an equivalent influence. This lack of belief in the fundamental tenets of the Movement means that while the Xiao may occasionally work with the covenant, they rarely belong to it.

A similar problem holds the Xiao away from the Invictus, who are not, as a whole, amused by the concept of wild cards running about and mucking things up for more proper, upstanding and respectable vampires — the Xiao, in turn, almost always refuse to consider the Invictus and their pawns as off-limits, further straining the likelihood of joining that covenant. As a result, the Xiao seem incapable of hewing to the oaths of the Invictus, and the bloodline’s capricious nature is made most unwelcome.

Finally, while their roles as monsters might find some traction with the concept of the Damned of the Lancea Sanctum, few of the Xiao have the patience for the dogmatic ritualism of the covenant, much less its messages of holiness and restraint. One or two disrupted masses are all most Priests need to ban the Xiao from their gatherings, and more than one incident has led to a violent purge. Though most in the bloodline hold no particular disdain for the Lancea Sanctum, the Xiao generally make an effort (driven mostly by a sense of self-preservation) to avoid the covenant.

Appearance:
Members of the bloodline tend to take meticulous care of themselves, making sure their hair is perfectly brushed and their clothing immaculately cleaned every night, presenting a tightly controlled faÁade as a counterpoint to their raging emotions. Extravagant hairstyles that take excessive effort to maintain are not uncommon, and elaborate, intricately detailed and layered costumes are almost a requirement. While the Xiao are not always beautiful, they work diligently to make sure that they are always striking.

In contrast to the perfection that most aspire to in dress, the auras of the Xiao are whirling maelstroms of color, and a skilled aura-reader who has encountered them before will instantly recognize the mark of the line, although some mistake the reading for full-blown psychosis.

While the elders of the Xiao are exclusively Chinese, younger vampires of other races are now joining the line with greater and greater frequency, especially in North America.

Haven:
Most of the Xiao prefer well-placed havens to secure ones; proximity to potential targets and comfort for personal living are the main issues that the Xiao usually consider. Common choices are simple, but (if they can afford it) luxurious, lofts, or even large houses near major areas. Havens in areas frequented by current victims of the Xiao’s manipulations are given precedence over the local nightlife, and those members of the line who have enough money frequently set up a number of well-appointed havens around a city to ensure that they can always be close to interesting subjects.

The havens of the modernist Xiao often give insight into their natures, if only obliquely. Just as everything else that the bloodline’s members keep, their havens are carefully focused affairs, designed to draw the eye of those few who visit them. Each room often has its own motif, and some Xiao go so far as to have one for each mood, carefully designed to support and foster a specific ambience. Others simply allow their entire haven to become a paean to excess, with the most expensive furnishings and art decorating a lavish abode.

Traditionalist Xiao, especially elders of the line, almost always go the opposite route, and their havens are all but empty of furnishings, conveying the feeling that their haven is not so much a place to live as it is a place to sleep away the days.

Background:
Xiao have a strong tendency to recruit from those whose lives have been ruined by their passions, regardless of their social positions and histories — especially if the Xiao themselves were responsible for that ruination. They also prefer those who take pride in themselves, finding them more interesting comrades. Some of the newer groups that the Xiao are beginning to target more frequently are those who begin life humbly but rise to greatness. Actors, musicians, businessmen who were born into the working classes and the like are becoming increasingly common prey. The Xiao may even create such icons, before tearing them down again, exposing their faults and then offering the Embrace as a second chance.

The Xiao remain a relatively small bloodline. Xiao Tianpàn had only three childer, and they themselves have not Embraced frequently, or have most of their childer in turn. The eldest of the bloodline have seen less than two centuries, and there are not more than a few dozen members of the line scattered around the world.

Character Creation:
Much as the Daeva in general, Social Attributes and Skills are favored by the Xiao, especially those related to Presence. Composure tends to either be very low or very high, depending on whether the Xiao in question is trying to suppress or embrace her curse. Social Merits based on mortal connections are uncommon, as the Xiao frequently destroy those mortals with whom the bloodline members interact.

Organization:
Once, Xiao Tianpàn kept a firm hold on his childer through a mixture of iron resolve and exceptional manipulative technique. In his absence, however, the bloodline has quickly fragmented, losing its sense of singular purpose.

Overall, many of the Xiao tend toward similar goals, but they do not do so with a single, coherent plan. Instead, individual Xiao naturally gravitate toward areas that they find interesting, immersing themselves in the social world of the domain they happen to have settled in. Neonates, once they have been properly trained and introduced to the Danse Macabre, are often encouraged to go and find a domain a decent distance from their sire, taking the difficult step of cutting themselves off from their former lives to prevent them from becoming complacent as well as working to prevent the inevitable emotional clashes with their sires. There is no need for this severing to be complete, but maintaining closeness is often considered too risky to be allowed.

Part of the reason for this loose organization is that the Xiao are far from immune to each others’ abilities. When two Xiao of sufficient power come together, their passions feed off one another, leading to a spiral of dark indulgence that can easily end with the death of one or both of the vampires involved. When more Xiao come together, the effect becomes increasingly pronounced. Because of this, most meetings between members of this bloodline, unless focused on a specific goal, are short and bittersweet.

There are a few Xiao currently attempting to impose some sort of order on the line, leading the charge to reunite the membership and reawaken the founder. Their efforts are relatively recent, though, and have not produced significant results. Those who do gather to them are suffering from one another’s inevitable provocations, and most are beginning to believe (secretly or otherwise) that the effort is doomed to collapse.

Concepts: Serpent in the garden, backroom whisperer, untrustworthy drug dealer, deadly muse, corrupt politician, frenetic political activist, manipulative groupie, energetic road manager, sinful priest, fervent pop psychologist.

The Tismanu are the hands and voices of the Ordo Dracul’s Damned faith, and holy traitors against the blessed authority of the papacy. They are agents of atonement for the Dragons, bred from the righteous philosophy of Wallachia’s Christian churches and the bloodthirsty brutality of Dracula’s crusaders. Were it not for the historical and supernatural ties that bind them to the Ordo Dracul, they would surely be in league with the Lancea Sanctum tonight.

Whereas the Lancea Sanctum takes its lead from Catholic Christian traditions, the pious Kindred known as “Dragon Monks” follow a variation on Eastern Orthodox beliefs. They are a niche subculture born from the unique intersection of Orthodox Christianity, the spirituality of Slavic and Dacian peasants and the faith-shaking truth of vampirism. Thus, the Tismanu are considered to be, foremost, Kindred of a particular philosophical bent, rather than a lineage or familial line — though they are that, too, in the manner that vampires measure such things. In cities where word of the Dragon Monks has arrived in stories and legends of other domains, but no Tismanu vampires are actually present, the moniker of “Dragon Monk” is sometimes misattributed to any priestly Dragon who withdraws himself from the politics and societal scheming of the larger covenant to maintain an introspective, monkish existence. Strictly speaking, however, only those Kindred who study in the remote and historic monasteries of Romania, Greece and the Czech Republic — or under the direct tutelage of a Tismanu Avus — can change their blood into that of the true Tismanu.

Older Than the Dragon Himself
The Tismanu were a bloodline back when Dracula was mortal. Kindred of this lineage had already settled into sunless, monastic cells in Wallachia when Dracula was just a child. Thus, it is said that the loyalty of the Tismanu belongs to God, first and the Ordo Dracul, second.

The earliest Tismanu were pious contemplatives struggling to civilize and soothe the Kindred of the surrounding lands — especially themselves. They had little organization in those nights, and existed mostly as pairs of elder and younger vampires on the lookout for troubled Kindred to house, heal and enlighten. In the long absences between vampiric visits, the Tismanu quietly fed from mortal monks — some of whom even knew the true nature of the Tismanu, but kept their secrets to honor the pious efforts of hopeful monsters, like monastic blood dolls. Some Tismanu still maintain similar relationships with such mortal monks; it is a violation of the Masquerade, to be sure, but one that has been going on for centuries in one the most isolated corners of Europe without disaster.

In the decades before Dracula’s damnation, the Tismanu were hardly known to most Kindred. They had little or no contact with mainstream Kindred society in those nights; the Prince of Bucharest at the time is said to have denied their existence as “a legend of peasants, undead or not.” That small number of vampires who spent nights in the care of the Tismanu — often hiding from the threats and intrigue of the city — did little to publicize the efforts of their reclusive allies. The Tismanu didn’t want their refuges to be spoiled by careless vampires, and the Tismanu’s refugees wanted to keep their allies to themselves.

Origin and History of the Tismanu
The name “Tismanu” almost certainly comes from the name of a monastery in western Wallachia, called Tismana. Little physical evidence exists, however, to suggest that the monastery is actually a site of historical importance to the Tismanu. Although the oral history of the Tismanu suggests that the first vampire to change his Blood into that of the modern Tismanu first manifested the bloodline’s unique supernatural powers in a remote monastery of eastern Europe, the eldest existing Tismanu uphold that the monastery was located in Transylvania, not Wallachia.

Even the name “Tismanu” is a fairly recent development. For decades, the so-called vampire monks of Carpathia had no name for themselves. For a time, it seemed that Kindred historians had neither recognized them as a bloodline nor even as a common philosophy.

Though one Tismanu taught another, who taught another and so on, the line of tutelage was never well-recorded or remembered, it seems. The blood of the Tismanu spread throughout Transylvania, Wallachia and Moldavia without much fanfare or historical impact. Those who know the Tismanu hardly find this surprising — they do not think of themselves in the same way they think of others. While the first of the undead monks that would become the Tismanu were helping to record the history of Dracula and his land, their own story was going unwritten.

While in Dracula’s time it seems that the Tismanu had no name for themselves, later centuries would find them with a surplus. For a time in the 19th century, when the history of the Dragon Monks was gaining popularity with the Ordo Dracul as a tale of dedication in the dark years before the formation of the covenant, the Tismanu were known as Snagovians, after the monastery of Snagov, near Bucharest, where mortal history records that Dracula was buried. This name stuck for a few years among the Ordo Dracul due almost solely to Dracula’s celebrity and Snagov’s historic reputation. At least one Tismanu lurked in the tiny monastery of Snagov well into the 1900s, but the Tismanu have no other connection to that place.

By the 1920s, the Snagovian name had also fallen out of favor among the Dragons. Those who used it were considered to have fallen for a kind of popular misconception by learned and elitist Dragon academics. During this time, however, the Kindred who would become the Tismanu were spoken of much more often than they were encountered. Dragons throughout Europe talked about “Dracula’s monks,” but they had little real importance in the covenant. In truth, most Dragons considered them to be some sort of nobly backward, religious bumpkins — they were trivia, spoken about around the local chapter house as a means of seeming important.

Late in the 1930s, however, a few of the Tismanu were persuaded by a Parisian Dragon to transplant themselves to cities in western Europe and America. The spiritual aid and timeless insight of the Dragon Monks, it was thought, could bring special comfort to new Kindred of the Order who found themselves unable to appreciate the history and mysticism of the covenant in the face of the modern age. Within a few decades, the Tismanu had developed new ways of doing things. Quaint new monasteries, paid for by wealthy Dragons, were built in Canada, the United States, Scotland and Germany to house Tismanu coteries. The number of Kindred practicing the bloodline’s unique Discipline is estimated to have doubled from 1940 to 1975 — an astonishing growth for the undead.

Yet the Tismanu are by no means commonplace. A census-taker working on behalf of the Prince of Prague concluded that six Tismanu vampires resided in his city, giving it the largest population of Tismanu vampires in the world, by the covenant’s reckoning. In most cities where the Dragon Monks reside at all, one Tismanu mentor and one Tismanu pupil is more likely. The Tismanu desire privacy, refuge and a withdrawn location suitable for contemplation. Few cities can offer locations that meet the Tismanu standards for remoteness.

Dracula’s Favorites
One legend told by the Tismanu — and quite popular among the Kindred of the Ordo Dracul — claims that Dracula himself consulted with a Tismanu vampire in the Impaler’s mortal years. If the supposition that Dracula struggled with his Beast even before his damnation is to be believed, the Tismanu legend does not seem so unlikely. Perhaps the Impaler took comfort in knowing that even cursed monsters such as the Kindred could find solace and wisdom despite their bloody ways.

It is far more likely, however, that the Tismanu who supposedly conversed with Dracula “over 10 nights, years apart” never revealed his true nature to the Wallachian ruler. The exact era of these meetings is uncertain, but some Tismanu believe the meetings must have occurred prior to the construction of the monastery at Tirgsor, which was a gift from Dracula to the monks he so cherished. In its night, Tirgsor was supposedly haven to four Tismanu, who slept in underground cells dug specifically to house creatures of their kind.

Again, the rumors are extremely suspect. In Rites of the Dragon, Dracula makes it clear that he did not consider vampires to be real until he was cursed to join their ranks. Therefore, it is doubtful that he knowingly be- stowed gifts on vampires when he was mortal.

What is commonly accepted, however, is that Dracula respected the efforts and enlightenment of the Tismanu during his nights as a vampire in Romania. It seems that the Impaler’s appreciation of the clergy did not die with him. Two of the eldest Tismanu in modern Romania claim to have met Dracula, and one supposedly still keeps a letter written by him. These tales, coupled with Dracula’s recorded historical appreciation for monks and their ilk, makes the Tismanu prized members of the Ordo Dracul.

Philosophy
Tismanu philosophy reflects the beliefs of the Orthodox priests who ministered to the peasants of Transylvania, Wallachia and Moldavia during the Middle Ages. Although many folk remedies exist to combat the spells, hexes and curses of witches and mages across the land, only the holy efforts of the Church are to be trusted. It is the priest’s duty to exorcize demons, break enchantments and protect common people from supernatural threats.

The Tismanu perform essentially the same services for common Kindred. In addition, they strive to create safe refuges where vampires can recover from the wounds inflicted by a harsh world and better resist the strenuous pull of the Beast. Dragon Monks believe it is their eternal duty to make the Requiems of other Kindred easier, to guide other vampires toward an existence free of turmoil and spiritual strife. In the harsh and unwelcoming night of the World of Darkness, this goal seems unobtainable, and the Tismanu see that. Unable to save the world or their own souls, they work to save individual nights from descending into chaos and avoidable evil.

If a Tismanu can bring serenity to another vampire, he is succeeding in his philosophy. When a Tismanu has helped another Kindred attain the personal awareness and insight necessary to change himself — such as by learning the Coils of the Dragon — the Tismanu betters himself as well.

The evil of the world cannot be stopped, but it can be kept at bay. The evil acts that define Kindred existence cannot be ignored, but they can be minimized. The evil in a monster’s heart cannot be denied, but it can be put to good use.

Monasteries of the Tismanu

The Tismanu maintain a number of monasteries across the World of Darkness. Some are open only to Kindred of the Ordo Dracul, others are open to all Kindred. The locations of Tismanu monasteries are not common knowledge, however, and are not meant to be. The Tismanu insist that every Kindred who knows a monastery’s location is permitted to tell just one other vampire — ever.

Surely, in time, the locations of these monasteries will be common knowledge, but the Dragon Monks want that knowledge to spread through genuine need and generosity. Kindred on the run are welcome at these monasteries, but the Tismanu do not grant true sanctuary. If Hounds come looking for a refugee, the Tismanu do not stand in the way.

The following monasteries are only some examples of those kept by the Tismanu.

Carpathian Ruins
This ruined, stone retreat lays piled in a crack in the green mountainside like forgotten scree. From the outside, it’s hardly possible to recognize that these stacks of stone blocks were once a building. Behind the rubble and weeds, however, a series of rooms stretch deep into the black depths of mountain, and it is there that the Tismanu sleep and store their religious texts. Very few visitors come to a monastery of this sort — a mere handful every 10 or 15 years. The Tismanu keep it primarily for themselves, to study with mentors or lay in torpor to calm their blood. Inside, the monastery is adorned with a few simple candles (evidence of their formidable calm) and a great, gold cross.

Hidden Prague
In the heart of a nondescript brick building near the riverbank in Prague, there is a windowless, stone bunker. The building is owned by the ghoul of a Dragon Architect, but the chamber within belongs to a Tismanu. Only a few of the local Kindred in the Ordo Dracul know of its existence, and non-Dragons are forbidden to go there. It is a refuge for Dragons in trouble and a meeting place for secret covenant ceremonies. Though, architecturally, it is little more than a concrete cube, the space inside this modern monastery has been dressed like an Orthodox church. The massive iron door that blocks the sole entrance to the retreat is featureless from the outside — only the Dragon Monk inside can open it.

Philadelphian Refuge
Tucked between two warehouses on the edge of downtown Philadelphia is a shabby house-turned-church. By day, it is a functioning Greek Orthodox church, staffed with volunteers who know nothing about its secret cellar. By day, a Tismanu sleeps below. At night, when the warehouses are empty and the volunteers have gone, the church opens to Kindred of all clans and all covenants. It serves as a kind of Elysium, but the resident Dragon Monk also maintains three private meditation cells (each granting a +2 equipment bonus to meditation dice pools) and a communal haven in the basement, where Kindred are welcome to sleep but forbidden to speak. For those Dragons versed in the third Coil of the Beast, these rooms can also be locked tight and used to Exhaust the Beast.

Nickname: Traditionally, Monks, but in territories where the Lancea Sanctum holds power, or the nickname is already in use, they are sometimes called Dracula’s Abbots or Dragon Monks.

Covenant: All Tismanu are born of vampires loyal to the Ordo Dracul, so far as such a generalization can be made. As much as any bloodline can be devoted to any covenant, the Monks are loyal to the Ordo Dracul. Centuries of tradition have led to the common assumption that no Tismanu in the world belongs to any covenant but the Ordo Dracul. The assumption might even be true.

Despite the strength of their link to the Order, Tismanu may fraternize with Sanctified without suffering suspicion from either covenant — they are ambassadors of sorts to the Lancea Sanctum. The Sanctified seem to stereotype Dragon Monks as simple, oldfashioned and remote religious folk whose beliefs have been molded by Eastern Orthodox theology and archaic, peasant culture into a harmless oddity. More to the point, modern Catholic Sanctified are more likely to regard Tismanu as backwards than heretical. Customarily, contact between Tismanu and Sanctified vampires is kept philosophical rather than political, concerned with theological debate rather than matters of state.

By contrast, such meetings of minds don’t often occur between the “favorite monks” of the Ordo Dracul and the pagans of the Circle of the Crone. The popular worldview of the Tismanu counts Acolytes among the masses of foreign heathens to be converted or avoided — the time Dracula spent among the Acolytes is seen by the Order’s Monks as an understandable but shameful exploration of heathenism. In the eyes of the Tismanu, Acolytes are unenlightened, like the pagan peasants of old. It’s the business of the Lancea Sanctum to confront them, however; Dracula’s Monks tend only to the souls and safety of Dragons and their allies.

This relationship with the Lancea Sanctum (and the Circle of the Crone) sometimes helps make contact between the Tismanu and the Invictus somewhat cordial. Political types among the Ordo Dracul sometimes try to stretch the hospitality offered to the Tismanu to cover Dragons as a whole. Carthians and the Unaligned are not regarded as a whole by the Tismanu, but measured one at a time according to their sins and their piety.

Appearance: The eldest Tismanu were medieval Slavic and Greek mortals who took on the chasuble of the Orthodox church either in life or in undeath. Most lived long lives before being Embraced. To this night, the majority of Tismanu are elderly, white men with full beards and uncut hair. Most keep formal, Orthodox religious garb for covenant functions (or even for every-night wear) and favor old-fashioned clothing, from colorful, peasant sweaters to simple, black slacks and suspenders.

Haven: Dracula’s Monks sleep in places rich in covenant history, places cramped with Christian iconography, and places steeped in the memorabilia of violent piety — sites with medieval battle memorials or tombs from antiquity, for example. They favor private holy sites (like historic monasteries “owned” by wealthy Dragons or protected by trusts set up by the Order), dark and remote ruins (like forgotten catacombs and collapsed abbeys), and specially constructed, modern havens built as gifts for the eldest Monks by reverent Dragons. (One Tismanu resides in a windowless penthouse retreat in Prague, where he serves as an advisor and counselor for Kogaions of central Europe.) Tismanu frequently, and sometimes foolishly, give the religious and historical significance of a site more weight than its security. Some of the eldest Tismanu, meanwhile, sleep in the soil beneath decrepit and abandoned chapels in the backwoods of eastern Europe.

Background: Though the Mekhet who become Tismanu come from all walks of mortal life, a rarer Requiem leads them to the bloodline. For centuries, all Tismanu were male vampires of the Mekhet clan born as mortals in eastern Europe and cursed to undeath by local vampires. Until the 19th century, only a handful of the few Tismanu in existence had ever dwelled farther from the Carpathians than Prague or Athens. Late in the 1930s, when leaders within the Ordo Dracul convinced a few Tismanu to transplant themselves to Paris, London and New York so that their ways could be introduced to new generations of Dragons, the ranks of the Tismanu began to change.

Tonight, a few female vampires and a scant assortment of non-Europeans have become Tismanu. Most of these exceptional Dragon Monks dwell in North America, but female Tismanu have become more common in Europe, as well (insofar as a subset of a small, niche tradition can be considered common). These modern Tismanu still study beneath the wisdom of elder Dragon Monks, however. For now, the Tismanu still observe the centuries-old tradition that only Dragon Monks who have themselves slept and studied in the line’s historic monasteries may fulfill the duties of an Avus.

Despite the expanding ethnic and gender characteristics of the bloodline, the philosophical make-up of the Tismanu population has gone largely unchanged for hundreds of years. Dragon Monks seek to find peace in their own madness, to steel themselves against the ferocity of the Beast and protect other vampires from the perils of their own damnation. Tismanu Kindred are calmly compassionate and traditionally minded, almost without exception; these Dragon Monks seek to foster relief and create refuges of peace in a world of violence and fear. Those Tismanu who do not feel this way tonight have likely changed from the supportive and settled creatures they once were.

Character Creation: Although they have a reputation as reclusive philosophers and holy men, the Tismanu often favor Social attributes rather than Mental. They are a gregarious, helpful people and, though they are no sort of missionary or evangelist, the most important benefits they offer to other Kindred are delivered with emotional insight, a generous ear or firmly encouraging words. Social Skills are also most favored by the Dragon Monks, who rely on Persuasion and Empathy when providing emotional (and supernatural) aid.

The remote, protected monasteries that have traditionally housed the Tismanu might be represented with the Haven Merit, but most monasteries that house Tismanu are not truly the property of the vampires themselves. Rather, Tismanu tend to maintains havens within a larger monastery or on its grounds — whether local mortal monks know he is a strigoi or not. Tismanu do not customarily take vows of poverty (though individual Tismanu might), yet they place very little value on their own wealth. Likewise, the Dragon Monks remain as neutral as possible, politically. Merits such as Resources, Retainer and City Status are uncommon among these Kindred. Allies, Contacts and Covenant Status are actually fairly common, however — the Ordo Dracul respects and protects these historic vampires.

The Tismanu practice a unique Discipline called Eupraxia. Knowledge of its mystic blessings and spiritual power is considered the real mark of a true Tismanu. A Kindred who studies with Dracula’s Abbots but cannot muster the powers of Eupraxia is just another monk.

Organization: Strictly speaking, the hierarchy of the Dragon Monks is virtually nonexistent. Tismanu demand their peers respect and obey the bloodline’s traditional tenets, but this expectation has resulted in only a skeletal framework of internal authority. In place of their own unique hierarchy, the Tismanu operate within the social structures of the Ordo Dracul and traditional Orthodox monastic law. Because the Dragon Monks so rarely operate their own monasteries, they often hide within the societies of mortal monasteries, existing as strange nocturnal hermits or seemingly mad recluses. Within the covenant, on the other hand, the Tismanu observe rules of conduct, but never become Sworn. The mentor-student relationship is taken very seriously by Dragon Monks, however. A Tismanu without a student is considered to be wasting time.

The traditional rules the Tismanu apply to themselves are meant to interlock with those applied by the covenant and the Church. Tismanu respect the elders of the line; a Tismanu never challenges or interrupts an elder in front of non-Tismanu. Tismanu do not reveal the secrets told to them by other Kindred, except to their immediate and current mentor. Tismanu never Embrace without the approval of an elder. Only a Tismanu who has resided for at least 10 years and one night in one of the Orthodox monasteries historically claimed by the Tismanu may induct other Kindred into the bloodline.

Concepts: Ambassador to heathens, covenant counselor, exorcist, lore master, medieval historian, preacher to peasants, protector of refugees, repentant sinner, spiritual advisor, spy among the Sanctified, treasure-keeper.

To the unwashed, ignorant masses, the Daeva are sleek, haughty, alluring, idealized predators who’ve been gifted with eternal youth, beauty and undying style because they’re just that much better than regular mortals. The Kindred of the Toreador bloodline see themselves in much the same way, only they elevate themselves above the thrashing, hedonistic, uncultured Daeva as well. They’re too well mannered and aloof to say as much to the Daeva, but what they leave unsaid in mixed company could fill volumes.

The name “Toreador” reflects not only the bloodline’s noble history, but its members’ fascination with the fine arts that they hold dear even tonight. Its founder, Garcilaso de Castillejo, was the second son of a moderately influential Spanish nobleman and a peer and rival of the innovative torero (bullfighter) Francisco Romero, whose grandson Pedro carried on the tradition and is legendary even today. Castillejo might have even surpassed Romero in skill and innovation in the eternal escalafon of Spanish bullfighters had he not been seduced and Embraced by an influential Andalusian Daeva while he was still in his prime. He adapted quickly to his undead state and impressed his Kindred peers with his charm, wit and grace. He even continued to fight bulls in secluded, hidden arenas for the delighted Kindred nobility until King Philip V decried the sport as barbarous and pressured a compliant pope to threaten willful noble toreros with excommunication. Fickle Spanish Sanctified chose to enforce Philip’s will among their own kind, denouncing the entire spectacle as a sacrilegious mockery of Abel’s sacrifice, largely at the urging of a Daeva Bishop in Seville who was jealous of Castillejo’s growing fame.

Yet Castillejo disregarded this slight with his characteristic aplomb and looked for other ways to fill his time at ease. He became a patron of the arts and a nigh-obsessive student of them, arranging travel into Italy, France, Greece, Portugal and even England to track down artists or to follow exciting new movements that caught his fancy. His adventurous spirit and unshakable will attracted cultured, indolent Daeva from all over Europe to his side, and they emulated every opinion and behavior of their charismatic torero in attempts to curry his favor. In time, amused outsiders came to refer to not only Castillejo but his growing cult of personality as El Toreros. When Castillejo finally chose to Embrace childer and those progeny demonstrated an aptitude for Dominate —which iron-willed Castillejo had learned from a Ventrue patron and lover in Venice — the nickname was applied to them as well.

When the bloodline gained recognition among European Kindred societies, it was known as the Torero line, and it remained thus for almost a century. Then, in the last quarter of the 19th century, Castillejo’s favorite childe, Cristóbal de la Vega saw the opening-night performance of Bizet’s opera Carmen. He was so profoundly moved by the performance of Jacques Bouhy as the bullfighter Escamillo that he convinced Castillejo to come see the performance with him the next night. When he did, Castillejo was so pleased by Bouhy’s performance that he insisted upon the adoption of the inexpertly translated word “Toreador” in place of Torero in reference to his bloodline. Ever eager to please their founder and paragon, vampires of the line and associated Daeva hangers-on eagerly followed suit.

In the century-and-a-quarter since then, however, Castillejo has grown jaded and bored by the evolution of what passes for fine art. He has withdrawn into seclusion somewhere in the mountains of Andalusia to pray that the inspired artists of the Age of Enlightenment will be reborn soon so he’ll have a reason to travel the world again as he did as a young Kindred. Yet his haughty sycophants can be found all over the world, insinuating themselves among the mortal elite in cultural centers of high art (such as New York, Paris, Milan and Madrid). Many of them spend their nights seeking inspired, classically trained artists and attempting to groom them into talented Kindred prodigies whose works will shake Castillejo out of his ennui. Others slavishly try to hone their own talents to perfection in hopes of doing the same thing. Some have even realized they don’t need Castillejo’s constant attention and approval to enjoy the status and influence they’ve garnered as Toreador. Possessed of their inceptor’s will, determination and grace, they’ve set their sights on supplanting the disconsolate old Kindred in the affections of their adoring brothers and sisters.

Covenant: The Toreador believe any covenant would be lucky to have them, but not every covenant is worthy of them. Nonetheless, no self-respecting Toreador is so gauche as to go slumming among the unaligned. (Honestly….) The closest many Toreador come to thumbing their noses at established authority and going their own way is joining the Carthians, though they usually do so only to spite a rival in an opposing covenant or because the Carthians have the most sway in the Toreador’s chosen domain. Members of the bloodline traditionally shy away from joining the Circle of the Crone because of a story their elders hand down about a member of that covenant whom their founder held in particular contempt and openly derided at court. Likewise, they both fear and respect devout members of the Lancea Sanctum, though they are wary of the intentions of certain hypocritical or overzealous Sanctified. And yet, piety and passion have inspired some of the most profoundly moving works of art in history, so finding the odd Toreador among the Lancea Sanctum is not unheard of. Many Toreador can be found among the Ordo Dracul, although many members of the Order consider the Toreador effete dilettantes who don’t have the capacity to master the Coils of the Dragon (which is not generally an inaccurate estimation). The covenant that attracts most Toreador is the Invictus. Not only is the Invictus accepting of them, but it aspires to the ideal of the undying feudal elite, of which the Toreador naturally account themselves.

Appearance: The eldest and most influential Toreador come from Spanish or Italian stock (including Sardinia and Corsica). They show the same range of appearance as south European mortals, from the duskiness of a part-Moorish Andalusian to the blonde hair of a part-Nordic Lombard. Young Patrons display a wider variety of ethnicity, but all of them represent the ideals of classical or exotic beauty to which men and women of the era in which they were Embraced aspired. In public and among their few accepted peers, they dress as paragons of the styles most popular at the time. In private, many Toreador cling to the bygone high-style fashions of their breathing days.

Haven: Toreador havens come in two varieties: the disarrayed studio of the self-absorbed artist, or the lavishly appointed haven of the elite socialite patron. The latter is far more common, and all such spaces have at least a couple of objets d’art on display. Most Toreador consider it gauche to display their own artwork (or not to display that of their guests) when entertaining fellow Kindred.