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EpitaphNewsletter of the Camarilla fan club
Winter 2004 • Volume 1 Number 1
Epitaph Managing Editor James H. Nester
Design/Layout Editor Janet McDonald
Copy Editor Ree Soesbee
Art Editor Danielle Faye Donovan
Submissions Editor
Masquerade and Mage the Ascension are regis
Camarilla, Epitaph, Mind's Eye Theatre and
Articles are copyright their respective authors, save for those proprietary elements derived from
Publishing, Inc.
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Newsletter of the Camarilla fan club
contri
butors
Web Editor Tina Vance
Antoinette L. Dubovsky-Modar
©2004 by White Wolf Publishing, Inc. White Wolf, World of Darkness, Vampire, Vampire the
tered trademarks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc.
Werewolf the Apocalypse are trademarks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.
the trademarks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc., which are used under license from White Wolf
Winter 2004 TABLE OF
E D I T O R ’ S N O T E 3 See what the Editorial Staff has to say regarding this issue and
the issues to come.
B E I N G B R U J A H 5 An insightful look into playing a Brujah in the Camarilla by
experienced Brujah player Nathaniel Raddin.
G L U E D T O T H E S C R E E N 11 Review of White-Wolf's release of Hunter the Reckoning:
Redeemer and Wayward for both the XBOX and Playstation 2.
T H E A B C ’ S O F C R E AT I N G A C H A R A C T E R 17 A brief set of tips on creating a character with The Camarilla's
version of the World of Darkness.
conten
tsIan Betts US2002021764 Charles Carter US2002024204 Matthew Kammert US2003041481 Rebeka Kastler US2002022485 Holly Kubaskie US2002021248 Janet McDonald US2002021748 Joseph Moon US2002021448 Laurie S. Neilsen US2002045819 James Nester US2002021097 Dan Page US2002022642 Kerri Pendergast US2002023616 Lana Quenneville US2002022632 Nathaniel Raddin US2002021544 Bill Sherman US2002023523 Sandra Stewart US2002021245 Ree Soesbee US2002021444 Ian Watstein US2002021820
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T O F I R E T H E F I R M A M E N T Master Storyteller, Bill Sherman discusses the Year of Fire and how it will affect the current chronicles running within The Camarilla.7� by Bill Sherman
I R I S E The first of a three part short story featuring a seemingly youthful Setiteon the road to the fullfillment of dreams.13� by Ree Soesbee
O N T H E C O V E R The cover photograph was taken by Ian Betts.
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we can finally unveil the fanzine, about the Camarilla, by the Camarilla, and for the Camarilla. Epitaph will bring to you yet another facet of the creativity that this fan club embodies. Through our illustrations, our stories, our poetry, and so much more we not only are able to express ourselves, but we are able to share it with this group of people who may appreciate it more than any other group in the world.
Epitaph will be published on a Quarterly basis, and will be available to ALL members of the Camarilla via our websites. At this time, we are unable to guarantee that Epitaph will be put into hard copy; however, it is something that has been and will continue to be evaluated as time goes on.
A lot of hard work has gone into publishing this first issue, and I must thank each and every member who submitted their work, as well as a thanks to the Editorial Staff of Epitaph. Without all of you there would be nothing to write about, and nobody to put it into presentation.
Again, thank you to everyone, and please, enjoy the read.
Ladies and Gentlemen, it has been talked about for a long, long time, and now
- James Nester, Managing Editor, Epitaph
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submi
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Please make sure that all submissions have been checked forspelling and grammatical errors. Also, please make sure thatall artwork or photography is in JPEG, TIF or EPS formatand as high resolution and as large as possible. If possible,please ZIP your files before sending. Please address all electronic submissions to ‘[email protected]’ with thefollowing Subject line: Submission [category] [genre] [type]
Note:category: Poetry, Fiction, Article, Puzzle, Photo, Artworkgenre: None, Vampire, Mage, Werewolf, Mortal,Changeling, Wraithtype: none, storytelling, coordinating, player, general,review
Ex: Submission Poetry Mage none [Poetry with a Mage aspect] Submission Article Vampire Storytelling [Article on how to play a Brujah] Submission Article None coordinating [Article on how to award Prestige
properly]
Please put the following in the body of the email:
1. Name**2. Member Number**3. Email Address4. Snail mail address [including Country]5. Phone number6. CC [for purposes of Prestige]**7. CC Email [for purposes of Prestige]**8. Brief Biography / member information--What do you do for a living?--How long have you been in the Camarilla?--What OOC positions have you held in the Camarilla?--When did you start writing/drawing/photographing/etc? How long have youbeen doing such? What got you started?--What venues do you play in? What's your favorite venue? What's yourfavorite character you've played? And why?
**Required
WE PREFER ELECTRONIC SUBMISSIONS. However, if you unable to access email, then please address all snail mail submissions to the following:
Submissions Editor - Epitaph718 St. Clair AvenueJeannette, PA 15644
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BEINGbrujahBy: Nathaniel Raddin
smashing up games and characters with their in-clan combat disciplines. But believe it or not, playing a Brujah is more complicated than just becoming combat ready, and it is harder to get right than most people think. In the next few paragraphs I hope to explain some of the crazy dynamic that is the Brujah clan.
The Seventh Tradition While the rest of the Camarilla has six tra
ditions, the Brujah keep a seventh. This tradition, unlike the first six, is one that even the Anarchs and the Sabbat understand. It is drawn from the rebel lifestyle of the Brujah clan. What is it, you ask? Simple. “Don’t Get Caught.” While this idea seems simple, and most people follow it without thinking, in the Brujah clan, the fist is all the forgiveness you get when you mess up. Therefore, it’s one of the rules you have to remember.
The Starting Brujah The starting Brujah player should get in
touch with the IC ‘rules’ of being a Brujah quickly, or else they will find themselves stepped on by their own clan. First and foremost, most Brujah characters will tell you that there are no rules for being a Brujah. They will tell you that Brujah are allowed to be complete and total individuals. This, however, is a lie. As a member of the Brujah clan, you must be willing to conform even as you tell the rest of the world that you will not bend your will. Failure to conform to your betters gets you the fist, and failure to make the rest of the Brujah think you are a rebel gets you the same.
A Brujah must also be willing to stand up for his brothers and sisters, so long as the rules have not been broken. This means that you should stand up for a Brujah in need – even if, ICly, you don’t like him. Your PC should at least act like he or she would stand up for a Brujah in need. Your PC doesn’t have to do it; he or she just has to give lip service
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While I can’t speak for any and all Brujah players, I can give my insights. I can draw on the
knowledge I learned while playing Alexander Constantine, Elder Brujah, Clan Head, Primus, and Imperator of Virginia.
“RAAAA!!! Brujah Smash!!” It’s more or less the first thing that comes
to mind when people think about playing Brujah. It’s understandable, with the number of Celerity and Potence “monkies” out there
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cated demeanor is a show in order to help the Brujah Clan – or the Brujah will lose their clan’s support. If your character is in politics to gain mere personal power, then don’t ever let the clan know your characters true goals. If your character is in politics for the Brujah, then don’t let the other clans know your character’s true goals.
Once your character has gained political power, it is important to remember that the threat of violence is usually a better option than violence itself. While it is important to remind those around you from time to time that your character is capable of violence, don’t be too quick on the draw. It only brings extra atten-
it’s often better to just tell the Brujah that you will do nothing at all with the power you will gain.
As Clan Head, my character was “elected.” This means that my character used his fists to get rid of most of the characters going against him. He used an excuse to remove them: telling the other Brjuah that his competition wanted the job, or the power, and knowing that the clan would then act against his competition. My character claimed to want the position only to “hold the place,” so that the Brujah clan would not be mistreated by the Justicars or by the other clans. Once my character had the job, he had to be ready to answer questions and use his new-found power to ensure that the Brujah clan would not be stepped on. To do otherwise would have left my character dealing with many angry Brujah. However, at the same time, my character needed to make it look as though he did nothing with the power of the position; to do otherwise would be to make many of the Brujah angry. The Brujah would believe that my character was using the power gained from the position – exactly as he said he would not. This is the dichotomy of being a Brujah in power. Remember – your character would be wise to tell them what they want to hear, and then do what you think is right (or do what your character wants to do). As long as you remember the seventh tradition, and pays his debts of lip service.
Overall Brujah Brujah characters really can be anything
you want your character to be – as long as the character follows the seventh tradition, and pays lip service to the clan. There are camps within the Brujah clan; groups with goals and family trees (lineages). Many of these political camps have ideals and goals of their own, hiding beneath the seventh tradition. If you are going to play a Brujah, it is a good idea to do some research ooc before you step into the in-character field. Try to understand a little about each of the camps and groups within the clan, and remember that when it comes down to it, each Brujah should be an individual. They have to walk a fine line between acting like a rebel, conforming to their betters, giving more powerful Brujah their due and above all – following the seventh tradition.
to this ideal. Remember to follow the seventh tradition.
Lastly, remember who your betters are. In the Brujah, your betters are the guys that can kick your ass. While there are characters that can socially or politically beat you down in the Brujah clan, that is not as well-respected. Remember, even if your character has political power, your character still must give lip service to the rebel lifestyle and those who have mastered the Brujah physical disciplines. In the Brujah clan, it’s important to remember that lip service is important. In the end, all that matters is that you give physically powerful Brujah a smile and a nod – and then, if you choose to destroy them in a political fashion, be sure to follow the seventh tradition, and don’t get caught..
Brujah in Politics Because a Brujah player needs must give lip
service to the rebel lifestyle while still respecting power within their clan, Brujah in politics must walk a funny line. Within the Camarilla’s political structure, they need to appear respectful and well-educated. However, these ideals do not often gain the respect of your clan mates. Therefore, your PC is going to need to make people think that your edu
your goals, and the last thing your character will want is to have such attention. Remember, most of the Brujah are giving lip service to you – and they are likely following the seventh tradition as well.
Brujah in Clan Politics Clan politics are an interesting game, for
the Brujah clan. First, your character must realize that Brujah don’t like anyone to be in charge of their actions or restrict their decisions. Therefore, when your character wants to gain a clan position (whether that position is Primogen, Clan Head, Primus or Secundus), always remember that your char-acter’s power relies on gaining the trust of the Brujah clan. This is true even when the job is one that the clan gave your character, or required of your character. While your character is trying to get the job, remember that your character is wise to always act like they will never use the power against the other Brujah. It is also a good idea to have your character act as if he or she doesn’t really want the job – the better to allay suspicion. To the Brujah clan, anyone that wants a position of power is a conniver, power-mad, and therefore should not have the job. In small groups, it might be easy to get a consensus of what the other Brujah want. In larger groups,
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To Fire the Firmament
By Bill Sherman, Camarilla Master Storyteller
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W elcome to the Camarilla’s Year of Fire. Perhaps those words send a shiver down your spine, or cause your emotions to stir.
If so, then you’re just like me. Over the next twelve months, we’ll be taking an adventure together as we bring the genres of the global sanctioned chronicle to a conclusion.
Do you want to know what it’s all about? What it’s really all about? Of course you do. That’s why we’re telling the Year of Fire story. In this article, I’d like to take you on a behind-the-scenes tour for the Year of Fire. No, I’m not going to reveal any secret plots in this article. You’re going to have to wait to see those plots in game. However, there are some stories that I can begin to tell now.
Have you ever been to a post-game ‘afters’ event where several members talk for hours about the White Wolf metaplot? Perhaps they argued over which clans were created by specific second-generation vampires--was Troile really a childe of Irad the Strong? Or perhaps they discussed what the Croatan’s sacrifice really meant in the struggle against the Wyrm. You might have participated in those conversations eagerly, or perhaps you wandered off searching for the chips and salsa; you knew that these questions can be debated endlessly without reaching a conclusion.
In the past six months, some of the Camarilla’s storytellers wrestled their way through these and other questions in e-mail
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die. I’ve invested so much time, so much money on
She has a history that I’ve built from long research
and my imagination; from dozens and dozens of
games, and too many hours on IRC. She has friends,
lovers, allies and foes, Childer and Grandchilder – all
made in-game. I’ve taken her all over the country to
gossip and flirt and play the “Dangerous Game.” I’ve
improved my French and my cheesy accent with her
But this global game of ours is comprised of sto
ries, and every story must have a beginning, a mid
dle, and an end. The end to my character - gulp?! The
die. But how shall she go? I have some ideas that are
bringing me out of my funk and getting me jazzed up
on the idea.
Sarah Bernhardt, a famous actress during the turn
scenes. I’m going to do it right when my character
going to act my heart out. I will writhe, I will scream,
I will throw so much emotion into it that no one will
out, “I Declare Killing Blow!”
testing down of damage – oh, it will take a lot to kill
my girl. The antagonists will have a long fight in
store! When it is done, I want to make my fellow
ries and great stories at ‘afters’ are made of.
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Getting Satisfaction from
By Sandra Stewart
It’s coming. You know it’s coming.
The end of our fantasy world. Well, this one, any
way. It’s enough to make a ‘gamer girl’ like me want
to cry.
Let’s face it. I don’t really want my character to
costumes, and so much emotion into my character.
over the last three years. She’s my 800-year-old baby.
Year of Fire is here and my character will probably
of the last century, was well known for her death
goes, taking a page from ole Sarah B’s book. I’m
notice the rock, paper, scissors as my antagonist calls
I see a lot of shotgun blasts, and Majesty, and
players burst out in applause. It’s been a long,
thrilling show we’ve made together. When my French
Lady takes her final bow, it will be something memo
My Character’s Final Death Scene
threads that looked just like those what-if debates. However, the questions had taken on a new level of significance. They were not just idle questions, and they needed answers. Our storytellers realized that if we wanted to tell the Year of Fire story, we had to debate the secrets of the White Wolf canon and merge them with our chroni-cle’s history.
When I sat in on these discussions, I realized how lucky we were – as a club. There is no way I could do this much creative work on my own. Even though some might think the Master Storyteller sits, all-knowing, at the center of a great web while directing the chronicle with imperial words and gestures, the truth is quite different.
There is no single storyteller, on any level, who will know or control the entire Year of Fire story arc. It’s neither practical nor possible because of the size of our chronicle and the speed in A
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which it moves. Our chronicle never rests. On New Year’s Eve, I visited the #camarilla IRC channel for a few minutes. Sure enough, members were role-playing there.
The Year of Fire will succeed because many storytellers and many players will infuse it with their own passion and creativity. A friend of mine recently taught me a lesson about storytelling. He said, “One storyteller can write a plot-kit, and two storytellers can build a good plot-kit. However, it takes at least three storytellers to build a great plot-kit.” The Camarilla has thousands of storytellers, each responsible for a part of the story’s vision and success.
The Camarilla has the world’s best storytelling team. Many of our storytellers are very experienced. They are great storytellers, but what makes them unique is their ability to collaborate, communicate, and compromise to build great stories.
On the global, national, and regional level, our storytellers have been talking together about metaplot. Instead of writing individual plotlines, we’re now setting theme together and building interwoven story arcs. Perhaps you’ve seen the Year of Fire Tour t-shirt? On the back,
it lists the U.S. regional and convention events where Year of Fire events will occur. Our Camarilla conventions will have major events, but if you can, also be sure to check out the summertime convention events at GenCon, Origins, and Dragoncon. But the Year of Fire isn’t just limited to the U.S. You can expect to see major stories occur in every affiliate nation around the world. The Year of Fire is certain to touch every corner of the globe.
The Global Storytelling staff also quickly realized that although the Year of Fire requires big NPCs and sweeping story arcs, that’s really not the heart of the story we want to tell. The Year of Fire calls us, as players and storytellers, to return to the core concepts of the World of Darkness. Each genre relies on different themes, but they all explore the concept of personal horror.
Personal horror doesn’t happen in Hollywood’s summer blockbuster movies. When Godzilla rises from Tokyo Bay and trashes the city, that’s cinematic entertainment. Monster movies can sometimes use storytelling techniques that scare us or gross us out, and they become horror movies. However, these
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don’t touch on the concept of personal horror. Imagine you’re an army soldier who just saw
his squad crushed under Godzilla ‘s marauding foot. You’ve fired your rifle into the monster’s flesh but the bullets just ricocheted off. There are civilians trapped in a crushed bus behind you. If you divert the monster’s attention, they might be able to get away. Heroism may lead to your death, but if you choose to save your own life, will you carry the screams of the dying with you for the rest of your life? You have but a moment to choose. What do you do?
Personal horror centers on personal choices. Tough choices. When we watch movies or see live theater, we might see a character encounter a moment of personal horror – but we don’t have to make the choice ourselves. In our chronicle, there’s no hiding from a charac-ter’s critical and life-changing choices. The Year of Fire tells the story of the end of the world. When a large event happens in chronicle, don’t think about it as a cinematic special effect. Ask yourself how the news would affect your character. How would they feel? What would they worry about? How would they respond?
Our chronicle will tell the individual stories of thousands of characters who will realize that
the end isn’t just near, it’s actually here. We’re going to explore stories of pain, sorrow, and horrible loss. However, we also have room for stories of heroism, discovery, and perhaps a glimmer of salvation. It’s a story that we will each build for our characters; our Venue Storytellers will be the ones to guide us through many of the most intense scenes. If you need help personalizing the horror for your character, go talk to your VST. A good VST can help you explore your character’s thoughts and actions, usually in the simplest of scenes, such as a vampire feeding scene. I’ve seen experienced players get chills when they go through a well-run feeding scene, and the opportunities to create intense scenes will expand greatly during the Year of Fire.
Remember that our game isn’t about winning and losing. Characters are precious, but they can die. In fact, their death can be a great story. Think of the actors who go onstage each night to portray characters in MacBeth or Hamlet. They know that the characters will die by the end of the play. Some characters, such as MacBeth and Claudius, get punished for their crimes. Other characters die despite their best efforts, or for no fault of their own. The character Ophelia is driven mad by
Hamlet and drowns herself, but the actress who portrays Ophelia puts her energy into sharing Ophelia’s story with the audience. During the performance, she shows the desperate fall of madness and doesn’t hold back.
When I was in college, one of my acting coaches reminded actors to bring their characters to life. “When you are on stage,” he said, “your job is to portray the Seven Deadly Sins instead of the Seven Petty Misdemeanors.”
In the Camarilla global chronicle, we are simultaneously the actors and the audience. If your character falls during the Year of Fire, then explore that story fully. You’ll get the fun of experiencing the character’s personal horror for yourself, and others around you will see your great performance. At the end, you’ll be able to take a bow for the role that you played.
The timer has been set, and the chronicle is about to burn brighter, hotter, and more deadly than it ever has. Let’s tell this story right. Bring your passion and let it burn!
[This article was written January 1, 2004, due to the lead time required in publishing. I provide the date so the reader may place the column in its proper time context.]
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GLUEDto the screenBy: James H. Nester
n the modern age of video gaming, it’s all been about the epic story and vast world of the online RPG. I remember when I was just
a little kid, I was amazed, captivated, even… addicted to games such as Space Invaders, Donkey Kong, and Pitfall. There was nothing
epic or deep thinking about any of these games, and there wasn’t any sort of story to go along with them. That said, I sometimes have a short attention span when it comes to games, so something that requires intensive thought and hundreds of hours of game play gets old
after a while. However, from time to time I just find a
game that I have trouble putting down. Slaughtering zombies, werewolves, mutated soldiers, and vampires happens to be my cup of tea. No requirement for lengthy decisions – just a lot of button pushing, a lot of shooting, and a lot of fun with three of my friends.
Hunter the Reckoning: Redeemer (for XBOX) and Hunter the Reckoning: Wayward (for PS2), released in October 2003. It was the beer and pretzels game of the year. Both of these titles are the sequels to 2001’s Hunter the Reckoning, based off of White-Wolf’s Hunter the Reckoning role-playing game. In Redeemer, it’s 10 years after the original White Wolf computer game. Eight-year-old Kaylie
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(whose parents were slaughtered by her teddy bear) is now 18, and has become a hunter in her own right. Ashcroft, the city where the game is based, has undergone a lot of cleanup and rebuilding in the last 10 years. Most of this reconstruction can be credited to a corporation called Genefex. However, unknown to the city’s residents is the fact that Genefex has been secretly turning all of the city’s inhabitants mutants. Kaylie discovers this terrible plot and calls upon her four Hunter friends (characters from the first game), to help rid Ashcroft of its latest threat.
you see how this game can captivate everyone with a need to vent a little frustration.
The game play is fast, and your attention does not drift during play. One complaint about the first Hunter the Reckoning game involved a lack of easter eggs: unlockable secrets and bonus material. This time, they did not make that mistake. After completing certain sections of the game, you are able to unlock galleries of concept artwork. As you advance, you retrieve even more ‘game secret.’ Probably the coolest such bonuses are the “col-
Absolutely. I am still trying to unlock some more of the
creatures to see what is available, and I have noticed that there are at least two more characters I am as yet unable to unlock. I have gone through and beaten the game once, but I keep playing. I play each time usually with different characters, and despite how many thousands of zombies I slaughter, my thirst for more cannot be quenched. The draw to keep playing this game is uncanny – even after beating it.
However, nothing is perfect. These games have several fea- There are some things I found in
tures that should be noted if you the game that troubled me. haven’t played before, and are con- Firstly, I thought the actual sidering renting or purchasing the game play was a bit short. I did-game. Hunter the Reckoning: n’t time myself, but I believe I Redeemer can be played by up to completed the game on the nor-four players at a time. To be hon- mal level in roughly 8 hours. est, playing with several of your think that the number of levels friends is the most fun. The story should have been extended a bit, is good enough to keep you and new levels and creatures involved, but the more the merrier. could have been added. Unlike some role-playing games, Secondly, there is a bit of a bug you don’t need to take notes to while playing the multiplayer remember and understand what is version, the same as was initially going on, and the story is light but found in the original Hunter the interesting. Reckoning. When a member of
The graphics and sound are your team crosses the screen, he excellent, and the improved can get trapped by the screen graphics engine has no problem fit- itself. For instance, if my charting 30 enemies on the screen and acter walks to the left side of the still maintaining its performance. board and gets behind a car, and In addition, character rendering has improved since the last ver-
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my teammates walk to the right side, the screen scrolls over to
sion, and the controls and camera the right as far as it can. Because view for the game are dramatically of the scrolling, my character’s better. The player can zoom in exit from that portion of the and out on a character, so you can screen is gone. This means that have a wider angle for navigating my character is stuck in the spot and for fighting huge hoards of behind the car. If there happens enemies (and yes, the battles to also be a zombie sucking your become quite large). Alternately, you can zoom in to get a better view of the intense detail, and enjoy seeing blood fly as you cleave a zombie with your chainsaw.
There have been several weapon additions from the original game, including a flare gun (with a cool visual effect when attacking vampires), a chain gun (carnage, baby, carnage), an elephant gun, and a grenade launcher, as well as all the old familiar weapons from the first game. In addition, each of the characters in Huntersl has one new ‘edge’ each. Kaylie, the main character, has even more: three new ones of her own. Couple these advancements with newer, bigger, and badder monsters, and
lectible cards” that you find throughout the game. Once you have retrieved three of the same cards, the game unlocks new characters to play. The most exciting ones, of course, are the ones that unlock some of the monsters you fight during the game. I was able to unlock two of them, and yes, I went back and used the monsters to great effect. We attacked the city with the zombie and the foot soldier. Although there is no way you could win the game with these characters, there is something hysterical about running around as a zombie… strike that, slumping around like a zombie. A zombie kicking a werewolf in the family jewels?
character’s brain out through your ear, well… it’s just not fun.
When it’s all said and done, the Hunter: the Reckoning games are really fun. They are quick paced, entertaining, and enjoyable – particularly when played by a large group.
Still Glued to the screen,
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I
I Rise
B y R e e S o e s b e e
I am more than this… Beyond the pounding drums the blood-soaked dancers spin
and weave. Trailing long sheathes of silk once wrapped around their bodies, they twist and bend like willows in a pathetic mockery of times long past. At the golden doors of the innermost temple, II
stand. Despite the sex, the drugs, the dance of flesh and sin, I am as still as a cold, dead statue, with long, ritual knives crossed and held tightly
against my barren breasts. I walk among them toward the altar, stepping with infinite precision between the bones and scattered flesh that stains the floor. My feet
crush their hands as they reach for me. My eyes do not look down, nor to the side, nor anywhere except within the eyes of the God before me. One by one, the dancers fall to their faces in supplication. Prostrate. Worshipful. Dying.
O p e n i n g P h o t o g r a p h b y I a n B e t t s
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On the marble floor behind me, the last of the dancers falls to the ground. A moment passes as they all writhe in a huddled mass of flesh. The drug within the wine that I have given them claims their breath, one by one, and they die in supplication before the altar. They die like serpents upon the floor of a marble tomb, their last whispered offering in penance for their failures in life. Then, the breeze of their whispers die, and there is nothing.
I hear their calls, their last whispered breaths. They do not move me.
At the far end of the hall, a raised dais holds aloft the black altar, and patters of black and silver criss-cross like the tongues of serpents upon the golden stairs. Three maidens kneel at the side of a black altar, their eyes watching me in fear and reverence. A decade of mortal life, of training, supplication, education, of spiritual seeking... for this. For me. The movement of my hips is seduction, and they mourn the distance that passes between us like a lover’s cries for death. They are beautiful, their hair hanging beneath perfect breasts, their eyes bright and limpid like sacred pools within hidden forests. When I am at last beside them, I lower myself, drawing the blades of the knives in long, bloody slashes across my body, the sharpness slicing down from my shoulders. With delicate, lingering pain, I feel the sting of their edge cross the flesh above my sternum, slicing deeply through muscle, marking bone. Onward the knives cut and slice, down through my flat, golden belly, leaving me at either side of my curving hips. They flare out into the air with small ruby sprays; my blood stains the blades, the floor, the white faces of my suppliants.
I throw my head back in a scream of ages. It echoes through the shades of death, carried on the incense that lingers like death in the sepulcher chamber. Blood trickles slowly down the tips of my knives, lightly, a single hanging drop at a time, upon the stone. The girls chained to the altar do not move. I see their eyes – shining, fearful – their hands clenched in terror as they watch the dancers on the main floor die.
I rise.
Pressing my hands against the dark blood that stains my body, I raise scarlet palms to the statue that stands behind the kneeling women. “Hail, great one. Hear my cry…” As I pray, I touch one bloodstained hand to the forehead of the girl kneeling at my left side. She begins to weep, reaching up to grip my wrist despite her chains. The blood thickly trickles between her blue eyes. As I withdraw, pulling away from her grasp, the sign of my hand remains – stained in blood upon her pale hair
and white skin. She falls to her knees in anguish, sobs racking her thin body.
I turn toward the other two, with sorrow upon my features. I know my own desperation; it is greater than theirs. One of them will die, a mortal sacrifice. The other will be given to the Dark God, and if he is merciful, will return within his Embrace. Their faces are dark and anguished. I step toward them. My choice… is made. Pressing my right palm to the forehead of the girl nearest the altar, my blood marks her. Stains her. She, too, will be destroyed.
The third meets my cold eyes with her own. She is braver than the others, and does not weep. I can tell that she does not fear me, though I stand naked before her, my breasts and thighs covered in thick trails of my own blood. Her hair is as dark as the ebony altar, her eyes the color of warm caramel. They widen, and her reddened lips part. She understands.
I spread my hands wide, and the chains binding the unchosen supplicants shatter into silvery fragments, tinkling on the stairs like a cascade of broken glass. They crawl from me, bellies against the stairs, heads low. As her companions leave her side, the youngest one watches me with eyes that are fearful but certain.
She has wanted this all of her life.
Behind me on the golden floor of the tomb, serpents move. Cobras gather and collect at the bottom of the stairwell. Their hoods extended, they rise. The women reach them, and ten small, sharp pairs of fangs extend, entering vein and burning through flesh. I hear the women cry out with each fanged grip, their blood draining from their veins into the bodies of my warriors. The death-scene has ended, and the temple’s renewal is at hand. Pale flesh shines in a reflection of the white floor, their blue veins tracing through their As the two women die of blood loss, the serpents extend and elongate, changing form to kneel before the stairs of the altar. They leave behind two broken dolls, their limbs as heavy and immobile as the marble beneath them. My temple hungers.
I trace a finger down the dark-haired maiden’s cheek, and see the first stain of red upon her porcelain skin. Her eyes close with my touch, and my lips curve into a smile. I bite my tongue, feeling blood well beneath my fangs. Slowly, softly, I pull the girl to her feet, pressing her naked body to my own. My hands are upon her shoulders, and I slide my palm against her throat, feeling her sweet warmth. The pulse quickens – one beat… two. She steps toward me, mouth open and inviting.
The kiss is tender, sweet, and I slide my tongue
into her mouth. Her kiss tastes of my own blood, mingled exquisitely with her fear. With a faint flicker, my hand tears open the flesh of her throat, opening her jugular to the cold night air. She gags faintly, clutching me desperately in her pain.
She is falling, but I hold her tightly to me, our naked bodies pressed as one beneath the watchful eyes of the gods. My tongue slides down her raw and bleeding throat. It is an asp, an adder, a stinging viper that feeds from her pain even as I feed upon her blood.
My touch is poisonous. As I kiss her gently, so sweetly, I feel her gasp and choke. Beneath mine, her lips turn black, and her eyes begin to flutter. The sticky wash that was her life now covers us both.
It is time. I feel my prey sag toward the ground. The screams of the others are drowned within my chosen’s gentle sigh. “It is not all that they have told you, little one,” I murmur, my lips coming away from hers. “Perhaps you will rise from this deathly kiss. Perhaps you will join us in the service of our God. Perhaps not.” I run my fingers over her shredded throat, her smooth shoulders, her full breasts. “More than one has died from my embrace. You will live... only if Set decrees it.” Again, I kiss her, watching as the light withers in soft brown eyes.
I draw in and capture her last breath. It is sweet with death and pain; touched by fear. The sickly shredding of flesh, the cracking of bone behind me on the floor of the sacred chamber does nothing to rob the moment of its beauty. Surely the Dark Jackal looks down upon us and is pleased by the blood that is shed this night - in his name.
If he is pleased, then this gentle flower will rise once more within my arms, ready to begin her servitude… ready to at last understand the pleasures that her mortal existence has kept from her. “Let her rise!” I beseech, reaching toward the altar of the Dark God. I see his impassive stone face, its features cold and unchanged as I reach for him with hands bloodied by love. Already, my own wounds have begun to heal. “Let her rise, I beg you!”
The body in my arms is still and lifeless. My poison blood stains her lips, turns her teeth to coal, and withers the flesh that touched my skin. “I beg you…” My chant falls to a whisper, my prayer falls to nothingness. Even in this eternal, immortal state, I remember how to weep. Tears of blood meld with my daughter’s last offering – her life - but nothing moves within her glassy eyes.
Again, Set has turned away, and the temple is empty of His divine will.
I will never create a child...
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Camarilla could do nothing, as the Temple you welcome.” Majh quietly washed her hands in the basin
above the plain motel sink. A towel nearby served to dry them, the white terrycloth fabric turning pink. On the bed, the drained customer snored peacefully, his hands still balled into abusive fists. As she allowed the bruises onMher face and shoulders to heal, Majh considered snapping his neck.
No. It wasn’t worth it. She left without a sound, her bare feet
padding across the floor, leather boots in one hand and the bag with her whips and spiked paddles in the other. Another slow night… another $200. Useless. Tedious. Reviled. These Pharisees did not deserve the teachings of the sect. But it was important to maintain appearances, and Majh did as she was commanded, no more – no less.
Majh turned her key in the door of the black sedan, hearing the soft click of the lock as it opened. High-class prostitution was a private business, like many others, where customers demanded and required complete anonymity. She gave them whatever they wanted, of course, and her price was more than reasonable. They hardly even noticed the true price. Most of them lived better without their souls, in any case.
Brushing aside a thick mane of jet-black hair, she slid into the leather seats and checked her mirror for any sign of trouble. Only her golden eyes stared back. Asian features, tempered by middle-eastern coloring reflected in the mirror along with the bright red taillights of her car. Her strong arms, well rounded but muscular, could hurl a man though a stone wall without even straining; her fingers ended in perfectly polished nails of pearl and silver. Majh had always been a contradiction in terms. She relished it.
Monterey shone around her like a jewel within a pile of dung, glistening despite the smog and filth. The Anarchs moved in gangs through the streets, their movements only faintly restricted by the new Camarilla Prince that claimed San Francisco, San Jose and the upper areas of Northern California. From here, the Temple of Set could carry out its activities with little interference. The Anarchs all but paid the Setites to continue; the Anarchs enjoyed watching the writhing of the Camarilla as they disdained the Temple’s work. The Temple of Set was a sticking point in the Camarilla’s craw, captivating and converting their neonates both to the worship of the Dark God and to the Anarch cause. Yet the
stood firmly on neutral ground, well within the Anarch territories. It amused Majh to think of the Camarilla Primogen, their Elders and their Prince, chafing at their inability to prevent the constant erosion of their childer.
All in all, it was a good arrangement. The temple itself was by the sea, buried
under a city building the way rats bury prized objects beneath piles of stinking refuse. Majh was its protector and guardian, the High Priestess of the small chapel of Setites here on the West Coast. Within the temple, her servitors led the chosen in thanks that Majh’s mercy had left them to live out another night. In Set’s name. Amun.
Sliding the car smoothly into gear, Majh looked out at the dark skyline of the city around her, knowing well what was occurring within the darkened buildings, behind closed doors and in the back rooms of bars. It was beautiful, with great towers rising like the ancient pyramids above a barren expanse of sand and asphalt.
Her cellphone rang quietly, almost hidden beneath the purr of the sedan’s engine.
“Majh,” she answered solemnly. The voice that responded was Arabic, both
in language and in tone. She listened to his instructions, deftly easing the car into traffic on the freeway that spun like an ornament around the city’s wide skirts. When he was done, Majh simply hung up the telephone and placed it back between the seats.
An arrival at the airport was imminent. Glad that she had remembered her leather trenchcoat, Majh ticked off the airport’s danger areas in her mind one by one as she slid back into the fast lane.
It was easy enough to slip past security, and easier still to convince the guards that her badge was official FBI. Guns strapped securely to her long, muscular thighs and completely hidden by the swirling folds of her coat, Majh walked easily among the other patrons. She hardly drew attention despite her unusual appearance, relying on the more subtle gifts of the blood to ease her passage.
The airplane landed easily on the small strip, its motors whirring to a stop as the airport workers ferried it in. Within a few moments, a man stepped out of the plane, his Armani suit hardly creased by his long passage. He was exactly as her superiors had described.
“Greetings, Sekmen-katub.” she said, nodding in respect as the Indian man approached her. “I am Majh, Keeper of the Temple. I bid
“Majh.” He says, handing her his briefcase and files. “The temple prospers?”
“As always.” Sekmen preened, his movements arrogant
and assured. “I was, until recently, in charge of security for the San Francisco temple. Our superiors have sent me to take over your arrangements. You will continue as my assistant and retainer. Therefore, my safety will be in your hands. I’ve heard they are very… capable.” Even for one of the undead, his smile was lecherous, and his eyes scanned Majh’s body with the look of a practiced connoisseur.
“Many of my brethren say so. Then again,” she answered flatly, “many of them enjoy their work a bit too much.”
“Well, I’m pleased to be your superior. I have the files on your most recent transactions. Shipping. Goods. Blackmail against the Camarilla neonates in order to draw them to Set’s cause and away from their own elders.” He walked stridently, pitching his voice just a bit louder than Majh thought was adequate. She lengthened her steps to pace him. “Your work is outstanding. I look forward to using your talents for my own purposes.” Again, the foul, self-satisfied smile.
Men always assumed that Mahj was no more than another daughter of the church. Compliant. Willing. Eager. Her amber eyes narrowed, but the pleasant cast of her features did not change.
“The car is outside.” The two walked swiftly. Reaching the sedan,
Majh stepped ahead, opening the door for Sekmen. She placed the briefcase and folders in the back seat as the Indian man slid into the front. Walking to the far side of the black
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sedan, Majh stepped into the car, closing her door with a very solid ‘click’. She turned the wheel, slipping into traffic with the grace of a tiger stalking its prey. As they drove, Sekmen continued to speak. “Your little town is going to be quite a change from my temple by the bay. We had only just made solid arrangements with the Camarilla in that area – dealing with the anarchs is like throwing pearls before swine. My talents are a waste here.” He sighed.
“What has the San Francisco temple accomplished recently?” Majh made polite conversation, her car moving through traffic toward the seaside.
“Far more than you’d imagine. We had a treaty with the Camarilla in the area, you see. They came to our temple for celebrations, we walked their Elysiums freely… beneficial to all.” His voice grated upon Majh’s nerves, and her hands tightened on the steering wheel dangerously. “You’d be amazed what you can accomplish with the Camarilla if you simply respect their practices.”
“Practices?” Majh asked flatly. “Their prince, Lorenzo, is quite the gentle
man,” Sekhmen’s voice turned almost sorrowful. “I do hope I can find the time to return to him… soon. I was really getting someplace with him.” The unnatural tone of his voice confirmed what Majh had been told. Not that she would have altered her course if it had not been true. It simply made her job more fulfilling.
They drove for only a few moments before the car stopped at the first red light outside the airport. Little traffic spun on the roads around them, and the city seemed almost silent in the hot California night. Majh twisted the key in the ignition, allowing the car’s engine to purr to a halt. “Why are we stopping?” Sekhmen asked, his perfectly groomed eyebrow raising in arrogant surprise.
Turning to Sekmen, Majh drew her gun from its holster, clicking the safety off before the other man even had time to recognize the threat. Blood exploded across the expensive leather seats of the sedan as her shots rang out. In a fragment of seconds, the passenger glass had shattered, and Sekmen’s head was nothing more than a pulp of flesh. The next two shots exploded the glass of the passenger window, studding the leather door upholstery with thick bullet holes.
Casually, but with great dexterity, Majh reloaded. Sekmen’s body continued to quiver, flesh struggling to reform around his piecemeal
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skull. One eye still hanging from its socket rolled limply toward Majh as his jaw worked impotently. “Wh…wh…” She slid the clip into place with a solid ‘click’, and solemnly answered the question he could not ask.
“The only time the Elders ever send someone to ‘replace me,’ Sekmen, is when they want him dead. I don’t ask questions. Neither should you.”
Eight shots, the entire clip, empty into the remnants of his head one by one. Eventually, he falls to dust.
Majh, warrior of Set, drove into the parking structure, her attendant staring at her white-faced through the broken passenger window. As she threw him the keys, she gave a single command. “See that I have airplane passage to
San Francisco prepared, loaded with munitions, street-grade, no serial numbers, or traceable to gang activity in Los Angeles. I leave tomorrow.”
Sekhmen-katub was the easy mark. He had been blood-bound to the Prince of San Francisco, and he was destroyed with easy prejudice. The rest of them… well, that would be harder… Perhaps if she completed this task, purged the northern temple of its Camarilla influence and set her fellows free, Set would at last see fit to give her what she so deeply desired.
A childe of my own…
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THE ABC’S OFcreatingA CHARACTER
By: Charles Carter
haracters are hard to create. training, and other events that led to your Characters develop over time with sin- character’s current opinions and viewpoint. cere thought and reflection. One thing to remember is that a well written
Characters have a lot of things that motivate and organized background can also be worth them, but when you first start, your character experience points to those players that have needs something to keep it going. finished the proper ordeal.
Attitude Costume My advice is to initially pick a stereotype or The character’s façade needs to reflect the attitude. Attitudes are easy to create. What character’s intent and upbringing. Costuming attitudes do you think a standard Brujah would does not have to cost you a week’s pay. Don’t have? Whatever you decide, attitude is going just go into Hot Topic, drop a credit card and to become a core element of your character. start pointing. Some of the best costumes I Pick an attitude that works for your new char- have seen were purchased at Goodwill, acter. Salvation Army, or other thrift stores. Used
Direction Your character needs some kind of goal to as a motivation. The goal could be long term, (which may take years) or short-term (only a few games or months). You may need to pick a short-term goal for each game that you attend, but make sure each game’s goal is different. A good goal may be to meet three people who possess the power of Aegis and begin to get in their good graces, or achieve boons over them – all the better to line those other characters up as possible teachers. Don’t be surprised if your character’s goals change, or if other goals pop up due to character interaction. Goals that are game-inspired are better than artificial stimuli any day.
Energy Pick an energy level and stick with it. Is your character like Steven Wright – slow, methodical and mellow? Is your character like a Tazmanian Devil – spinning out of control and destroying everything in sight? Is your character more like Pee-Wee Herman - comical, spastic and constantly moving? Your energy level may change depending on the character’s current circumstances, but how does your character generally hold themselves?
Background clothing stores such as Aardvarks’s also have excellent selections. Because you only pay a
You might play a character once or twice few dollars for those used jeans, it’s okay to before you create a background, but you should beat the snot out of them in order to costume eventually write one up. It can be as simple as your furry Gangrel or your smelly Nosferatu. a list of dates and events, or it could be a Linen and lace can also be found for those poignant collection of critical events from your clans that are more “civilized.” Be creative, past. Your background should include a and be sure your taste reflects the character. description of your Sire, your embrace, your
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