There are only two 'enemy only' covenants in the core rulebook:. The second edition also focuses on a different race with vampiric traits that have often clashed with the Kindred:.
New Line Cinemaoptioned the feature rights to Vampire: The Requiem in , but to date no script has emerged. White Wolf released two board games for the Vampire: the Requiem setting. Prince of the City was released in October Dark Influences was released in October In , White Wolf conducted a novel writing competition, shortly before canceling their fiction line in Most older books are in scanned image format because original digital layout files never existed or were no longer available from the publisher.
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Clans and covenants [ edit ] Similar to the previous game, Kindred are brought into one of five clans as part of their metamorphosis into vampires. Each clan covers a broad range of vampiric archetypes: The Daeva evoke the image of vampires as seductive, decadent, sexually transgressive predators who blur lust and hunger together, equating the act of feeding with sensual pleasure, like Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla.
The Gangrel embody the idea of vampires as predatory feral demons. An upper level in the feeding chain with little or no interest in humans as anything other than food, they represent vampirism as crude predation and evoke ideas of basic instinct, untamed ferocity and freedom that are commonly associated with predators.
The Mekhet are mysterious conspiratorial occultists, obsessed with knowledge and information, who hide in the shadows and manipulate others from afar. Nosferatu vampires are the repulsive, yet fascinating, alien and hideous monsters of legend such as Count Orlok of their movie namesake. Ventrue are regal vampires who value power and dominion to the point of obsession, self-styled 'lords of the night' they represent vampirism as a metaphor for maddening power, like Bram Stoker's Dracula.
Within these clans are many sub-clans, known as bloodlines. I lived for her, I would happily die for her, and with both Ra and my beloved Rabakti at my side, guiding me to my future, I hardly seemed to mind the finality of those thoughts.
Sadness overwhelmed me for a moment and I realized that I had gasped. The woman, Rabakti, was lying mummified before me, sleeping soundly in her gold-encrusted sarcophagus.
All my previous thoughts memories? I could sense my brothers and sisters standing beside me, all of us staring at the desiccated form in the ornate coffin. What could I tell them? What should I tell them? The ritual had to be completed tonight. Ra demanded it. Rabakti expected it. The High Priest, however, could not enact it. He had long since become dust. Something had to be done. The ritual had to happen tonight. Rabakti commanded it.
So it must be. I have an idea, I said, knowing what I needed to do, but unsure, exactly, how to get the cooperation I required to ensure my success. So, I opened my arms and offered a smile I hoped appeared genuine and unthreatening.
I need your help, though, and I need you to trust me. I almost expected them to laugh at me. After all, to ask our kind to give trust to one another is patently absurd.
My brothers and sisters surprised me, however. They no doubt sensed the power of the magnificent sleeper lying before us and they turned to me for the answers they sought.
They all had quizzical looks in their eyes, but there was more. Certainly some skepticism, but mixed with something else, something more powerful than confusion or mistrust. I knew then that I had them all. Curiosity had taken hold.
A Kindreds lust for power had blinded them as surely as if they had stared into the very essence of Ras glory. They had taken the bait. Now, all I had to do was reel them in. I once again touched the small scroll rolled up next to the sleeping corpse, the one that had transported me to another time and place just moments ago. This time, I picked it up and unrolled it, displaying several lines of Demotic text and a series of hieroglyphs.
What is that? Jenni asked. I glanced at her. Jenni was a Nosferatu neonate, barely five years turned, and she had an unpleasant tendency to ask too many questions. She wasnt, I knew, long for this world, but I decided to answer her anyway. This, I whispered reverently, is the key to a power greater than any of us have ever known.
How do you know that? Looks like a bunch of scribbles and nonsense to me, another of my companions, Vladimir, said. He was Ventrue. Thats why youre a gravedigger and Im an historian, I snapped. I saw Vlad squint, the insult hitting home. He shivered and scuttled to the other side of the sarcophagus, attempting to reign in his Beast, no doubt. Sorry, I muttered, not wanting to lose him, yet not wanting him to know I needed him. He grunted, but didnt turn away. I took it as a victory.
What do you need us to do? She called herself Patina and I liked her. I would miss her more than any of the others. In the top left corner of the sarcophagus, near the tip of the ornate headdress worn by the torpid vampire, was a cup made of gold and inlaid by a row of scarabs.
I grabbed it and lifted it up toward the low ceiling. I need an offering. Thats why I think the five of us were summoned here. Clarita, the Daeva in our ensemble, licked her lips. I had the disturbing notion that she, too, knew what was about to happen, but then realized that she might just want me to feel that way.
I mentally cursed the Succubi, and allowed myself to imagine what my fangs would do to her flesh. Why are we here? I looked at my four companions one at a time. We had all been compelled to seek this place out. Now, because of what had been shown me when I had touched the scroll, I knew why. To awaken a god, I whispered. I raised my right wrist to my mouth and tore into it, forcing the black, coagulated blood to ooze out of my dead veins and spill into the golden chalice.
I then went to each of my brothers and sisters, in turn, allowing them to open gaping wounds in their flesh, waiting as they, too, forced the Vitae out from rotted arteries and veins into the offering cup. When all five of us had made our donations, I once again lifted the chalice toward the ceiling. The blood which once belonged to each of us, which once belonged to the living, is now returned to the One, who has waited for this night and her triumphant return to the glory of Ra and all He surveys.
I offer this to you in His name. What the hell are you talking about? Vlad asked, alarm in his voice. I ignored him. He was inconsequential. He was an unbeliever. He had not gazed into her eyes.
He had not given himself to her those many centuries ago. He had no idea what was about to happen. I tipped the cup and watched as our collective blood slowly made its way to the edge and fell over the side.
The first drops hit her ancient lips and her jaw immediately snapped open to receive the rest. I lifted the bottom of the cup higher and a steady stream of blood poured into her gaping maw. A hissing sound, like hot steam escaping from broken pipes, escaped her withered throat and filled me with a terrible excitement.
My brothers and sisters surrounded us and watched in fascination as her blackened, dehydrated skin began to lighten, to stretch and become smooth. Her tongue lapped at the offering and her throat convulsed as it swallowed each drop, consumed it even as her eyes had consumed my own soul minutes, centuries, earlier. Ebony hair, which had calcified to her skull, became filled with shine and luster.
Lungs, long since rotted and decayed, filled with oxygen sucked in with the blood. I knew she had no need for breath, but I also knew that, after three thousand years of sleep, nothing could be a more potent reminder of life than taking in air. She gasped and, Ra bless me, she opened her eyes. They sought me out, found me and we both smiled. Rabakti, its me, your beloved, I whispered. I knew the others would think me mad. They were about to learn otherwise. When she spoke, her voice was a smooth, deep, rich melody that dissolved my fears and filled me with a lust I hadnt felt since , the last time I had made love to my wife, the last time I had seen the Sun set.
Her voice was a gentle command I felt I had no choice but to obey. That I wanted to obey. More, she said to me. I leaned forward, offering myself to her and I felt her hands grasp my head, turn it to the side, and pull me closer to her waiting mouth. The torches that had lit the tomb sputtered to stay aflame. I heard only the soft shuffling of feet until I opened my eyes and suddenly, instinctively, pushed myself back up against the wall.
Jenni and Clarita lay on the floor, hands grasping each others shredded throats. They were already rapidly decomposing in one anothers arms. Patina stood spread eagle against the far wall, staked to it.
Rabakti was suckling her neck, ensuring that she took in every possible drop of her blood. When she heard me rustle on the ground at the foot of her sarcophagus, she turned to face me. I sat, frozen, unable to move, unsure why I would even want to. Her lips were full and red, her eyes brilliant and dazzling, her skin pale and well-nourished.
She was Rabakti and she looked as she had three thousand years ago. She was a radiant presence, calling to me without a word, requesting that I join her at her side. She was my beloved. How could I refuse her? I stood, legs trembling, and managed to keep from stumbling as I made my way to her open arms.
She greeted me. Beloved, she whispered. The single word pooled within my ears and threatened to send me into orgasmic bliss. I leaned back and gazed into the dizzying eddies of her green eyes I came for you, as you knew I would, I said.
She merely nodded, the smile never faltering, her eyes never leaving mine. You understand who you are now, yes? It was my turn to nod in response.
Of course, Rabakti. I am yours to command. She took my chin in her hand and pulled my mouth to hers. She kissed me gently. What of the others? Where are my childer? Most are still at war with the Underworld, I believe, or hiding in fear of destruction by the enemy.
The conquerors still exist? She had continued to hold my chin in her hand and was now applying pressure to it. I struggled not to flinch and focused on her eyes, recalling the feeling of serenity within them. Instead, I saw swirling clouds of uncertainty and rage.
I recoiled and instantly felt my mistake, as the bones of my jaw suddenly shattered. I tried to pull away as her other hand slammed into my chest. I felt my sternum snap and at least four ribs break as my body became airborne and flew across the tomb. My cries of terror ended as a rock jutting out from the far wall slammed against my upper spine, just below my skull. I heard a sharp crack and fell limply to the ground below.
What blood I had left was already beginning to knit the worst of my injuries even as my beloved Rabakti returned to the side of her coffin. She reached in, grabbing the scroll I had inadvertently touched. My diary reminds me of who I was, she whispered. It had sat next to her for thirty centuries. Now, she looked at it and spoke to the papyrus as if it were her only child. But who am I in this new age of unreason?
What is this Ra-forsaken place I have awakened in and why now, after so long spent in the Underworld? She stood motionless, as if waiting for a response. I dared to speak to her, praying for answers of my own. How did you defeat the others? She twisted her head back and gazed at me with what I took to be pity.
You are not the only one who once had brothers and sisters. I count among my closest allies the Kindred of Osiris, who have ways of placating the brother of sleep. My diary was but one example of their abilities. There are many others, to which I owe them a great deal.
Forgive me, but you didnt answer my question, I said, striving to keep any petulance from my voice, fearing her wrath would end my existence as quickly as it had the others. There are some secrets you are not ready for, little supplicant. Suffice it to say that I told them all what they most desperately wanted to hear and allowed their own fears and insecurities to take care of everything else.
One of them, the Ventrue dog, I took for myself. His knowledge is now my own. His blood and soul belong to me.
I can still here his voice inside my mind, sniveling and whining. And what of me? I asked timidly. Will I be with you, or will I join my brothers and sisters in Final Death? She cocked her head, as if hearing a voice from within, and began to giggle like a school child. Her mouth twisted ever-so-slightly into a mild grin and she turned her perfect body to face me.
Without warning, her smile faded, like a light switch dimming to utter darkness. For a brief moment, it looked as if her eyes had darkened as well, becoming a rich brown, but the moment quickly vanished, and with it, any evidence of humanity inside her. She stared at me with her emerald eyes, suddenly icy, and a great fear enveloped me. I stood on trembling legs. I almost ran. She laid her hands on my shoulders and pinned me in place. We have a mission to accomplish, you and I, she said, her tone cold and matter-of-fact.
She turned away then, as if looking at someone else standing beside her, and cocked her head to the side. Yes, we certainly do. I see it now, as clear as the Egyptian sky. Will you join me? My place is at your side, I said. I am, and always have been, your loving servant, Rabakti. Indeed, she responded, turning back to face me. Her eyes once again connected with mine. I began swimming in her world, in her glory. I would do anything for her and she knew it. We must find the others, she said.
The Usiri. The Anubi. The followers of Isis, Horus, Thoth and Bast. Together, we will arise and reform the Great Covenant. We shall take back what was stolen by the invaders. We shall once again rule over Kindred and kine and remove the craven Ventrue from their perch.
How will we accomplish this mission? We shall do as the Bak-Ra have always done. We shall take what we need from those unwilling to provide and gratefully accept that which is freely given. We shall bring others into our faith and we shall find our allies once again.
She took a step closer to me and it was all I could do to keep from tearing a gash in my neck and giving myself to her completely. Are you with me? With all that I am. I have seen Ras magnificence through your eyes, my beloved.
There can be no turning back from that, or from you. She kissed me deeply, her cold lips and mine locked together in an unholy embrace. When she pulled back from me, I could see the madness swirling in her eyes and I chose to ignore it. Such madness must be placated rather than angered. You are truly a chosen of Ra, she whispered, caressing my still-mending chin with one hand and stroking my hair with the other.
Together, we shall relearn His gifts, so that we may bring more servants into the fold. You, my beloved, shall be my King and I, your Queen. Ras will be done, I replied, the memory of my brief glimpse of the sun holding sway over my emotions. In this place, in this time, it is my will that shall be followed, beloved, and mine alone. As you say, Rabakti.
To your glory and the glory of Ra, ruler of all He surveys! I shouted proudly. Rabakti smiled at me. Her eyes gleamed, as if the light of Ra burned within them. I allowed those eyes to once again draw me in, to take me places I had never seen, to propel me back to a time I had never lived and, for a brief moment, I allowed myself to dream of ages past, of a time when the Sun was not our enemy, but our eternal salvation.
Carriker, Jr. All rights reserved. Reproduction without the written permission of the publisher is expressly forbidden, except for the purposes of reviews, and for blank character sheets, which may be reproduced for personal use only. All characters, names, places and text herein are copyrighted by CCP hf. This book uses the supernatural for settings, characters and themes. All mystical and supernatural elements are fiction and intended for entertainment purposes only. This book contains mature content.
Reader discretion is advised. Introduction One by one, they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. James Joyce, The Dead History leaves its mark.
More than that, it leaves a scar, indelible and swollen on the skin of our memory. Its a place where hair will never grow, a swath of land where the earth is salted and life fails to take root, a wall marked with garish graffiti from people who have long been dead. We all have them in our own lives. Some moments are big: the time Kennedy or Lennon died, the day men landed on the moon or the Challenger shuttle exploded, the morning when two planes struck the towers. Some moments are smaller and more personal: a wedding night, a parents death, a car crash, a sexual indiscretion.
Such events are carved into the mind, revisited as nightmare or through unsummoned remembrances. Even as we age, as our minds fail, those moments may continue to rise up through a mountain peak pushing through an inscrutable fog.
Thats us. Thats humans. All things considered, we have short lives 30, 50, 80 years, and then were done.
One day, we all dance off this mortal coil, and with us go our memories. Vampires do not operate under such impermanence. In fact, barring outside interference, he continues on with his wretched existence for hundreds of years, if not millennia.
The vampire does not grow old. It is an apex predator, subject largely to the hungers of its own kind. Some might say that time is kind to the Kindred, whereas others among the Damned are quite certain that time is a never-ending parade of curses, failings and terrors.
Immortality is only a positive thing if one believes that existence is beautiful or, if one fears the finality of death more than the eternal nights of torment and shame. Of course, while vampires do not age physically nor, some would say, do they age emotionally , they do age mentally. The mind can only hold so much. Like a glass, it eventually fills to the brim and spills over the side. And so, as the Damned age, they experience another element to their Requiems that can be both curse and blessing: the Fog of Eternity.
Details muddle. Events blur or are lost, submerged beneath newer, fresher memories. Faces and names fade or grow tangled. Entire years might be erased from all recollection. And yet, history still leaves its mark.
Out of so much that is lost, some events never go away. A vampire may forget the decade that precedes it, but he remembers the night his coterie betrayed him and left him for dead in the deep dark of a Cypriot copper mine. Another has lost his many names, but will never forget the moniker of his superior in the Legion of the Dead when the Camarilla was yet ascendant back in Ancient Rome.
A third vampire has fallen to torpor too many times, and her recollections have suffered moth-eaten holes now filled with the detritus of nightmares, but even still some memories persevere and now she goes out in search of those who had a hand in her glories and her failures.
For humans, historys mark is remembered in books or carried from generation to generation in stories told around campfires and livingrooms. Vampires dont just remember the big events, however, they carry their recollections with them, acting as living markers of what has come before. History leaves scars, indeed, but amongst the nocturnal society of the Damned, the vampires are those scars. For the Kindred, history is not passive. Its dynamic. It walks and talks, a mad waltz within the Danse Macabre.
That is what this book is about: events have transpired throughout vampire society, and those events left many deep scratches and enduring stains. Moreover, they have spawned what might be considered the children of history, vampires who are so connected to these historical flashpoints that it changes them, it transforms the Blood in such a way that these Kindred become the unliving carriers of what has transpired.
Historys children leave their own marks on the world, acting as the manifestations of an often-bloody ripple effect. What youll find in this book is 20 different bloodlines spawned from key points throughout Kindred history. In addition, youll also find other elements bound to these events and to these bloodlines: mysterious places, strange Disciplines, immortal enemies and blood-stained artifacts. The themes of this book are discovering the past and that history is all-too-relevant.
With the Damned, the past. Even a small thing can have a major impact one hundred years hence. Discovering that, mining through the mysteries and details, is key to this book. A character may look deep into the living and unliving histories of the Kindred and find that long-gone events may have deep repercussions for her that she may not have considered. Was her sire involved? Was she involved?
The ghosts of the past are not easily silenced, as evidenced by the bloodlines and artifacts contained within. So, weve established a core truth: history matters to the Damned. It has to. Ignoring it doesnt help because the past isnt just the past what happened years ago may still be going on tonight, a terrible event or pogrom carried out by a bloodline spawned from the initial horror.
History is dynamic. It has a face. Its a returning specter. That means you as Storyteller or player should be prepared to use the past in your game, right?
Since history helps make a vampire what she is whether it happened during her Requiem or her sires Requiem or her grandsires Requiem , its critical that you know how to bring history to bear upon the current story. How do you make it come alive without just establishing precedent and going on from there? How can you take the past and, as a troupe, bring it to the table in a show, dont tell manner? By using flashbacks, thats how. Now, admittedly, one option is simply to create characters from a certain time period and then run them through an initial story set in that historical setting.
Then, the Storyteller doles out experience points and you spend those points to help bring your characters up and into the present. Thats not a flashback, though. Thats a prelude or a prologue or simply Chapter One to your coteries story. A flashback is something that happens within the story itself. The narrative progresses to a point, and at that point a flashback is used.
But to what purpose? Well, you might choose to use a flashback in game for one or several of the following reasons: For thematic-, motif- or mood-based resonance. In a game about treacheries and betrayals, you might choose to flashback to a time the characters were betrayed or did some betraying of their own. Alternately, you might go the opposite direction and choose an event when someone stayed loyal using an opposite foil in such a manner can provide contrast and highlight the point youre hoping to drive home.
To provide some further detail. The coterie is battling an old nemesis, and in the midst of the combat, you choose to move to flashback. So the group can recall an earlier meeting or battle with the same enemy. When the narrative returns to the present, the characters can call-back moments from that flashback, or even help to conceive of their opponents strengths and weaknesses. In this manner, youre providing context from past to present. To answer questions.
The characters confront something in-game that, up until now, they havent encountered before. The players dont know what theyre seeing when the coterie finds an ashen vampire body painted across a warehouse floor to form some kind of forbidden sigil. A flashback here shows that the characters have seen this symbol before, and the flashback might comprise an entire game session story on what happened back then to lead to the symbols discovery and explication.
This isnt about little details, but about bringing whole new plot elements from history for use in the modern story. For dramatic irony. Vampires lose memories to the fog, and going to flashback highlights whats known as dramatic irony, which is when the audience in this case, the players comes to realize something that the characters themselves do not know.
Just as the coteries about to accept a Vinculum to a seemingly beneficent elder, the Storyteller moves to flashback, showcasing a scene where that elder clearly backstabbed one or all of the characters. Flashing forward again, the players may be allowed a roll to see how much of that they remember or maybe, no roll allowed.
Those who dont remember go ahead and commit to the Vinculum the players know its a bad idea, but the characters dont. Dramatic irony in a nutshell. For purposes of this introduction essay, were going to frame out two types of flashbacks you might use during your Vampire: The Requiem story.
These are certainly not the only ways to handle flashbacks, but this dichotomy should give you an idea as to how to use them and, more importantly, what they mean in the context of the narrative. Note that its important Storytellers and players be on the same page as to what style of flashback is being used in the game.
The reflective flashback assumes that what happens while playing the flashback does not greatly impact the. The flashback is meant to be largely informational, used to provide context to events in the present day. For example: in the present, the vampires meet the aforementioned nemesis on a rooftop, and theyre about to do battle swords and knives are drawn, the rain is pouring down. The session ends, and the Storyteller and players decide that the next session will begin in flashback.
In particular, the narrative remembers when the characters were still alive and were meeting their nemesis when he was living, too. The flashback takes place on a sunny day a contrast to the rainy rooftop scenario from last chapter and has the characters as loose allies with the individual they will later be battling another contrast.
Because this is a reflective flashback meaning it reflects the present events and is a reflective look back , the characters know they cant change the course of history dramatically. They cannot, as humans, suddenly act on secret information and assassinate their enemy early on. We know the adversary survives and becomes Kindred, as will the characters the flashback isnt going to change any of that.
Certainly the flashback can have some repercussions in the present: when the game switches back to the rainslick rooftop, the nemesis might call to attention words spoken or actions taken during the flashback Do you still think me a what was it you called me?
A cowards cur? But the characters cant have killed him, or given him a scar that wasnt there before, or anything like that. They can change things that havent been pre-established, but not dramatically so. One way to ensure this is to eschew dice-rolling during the flashback encounter and simply rule on what is allowed to occur though dice can still help to provide flavor to some encounters.
Its still important, of course, for the characters to be able to succeed or fail in the scene. What are the stakes? What can the players change? Social and mental challenges should abound. They might be able to humiliate the enemy giving them a success, but also giving the nemesis further reason to become a thorn in their sides.
An adaptive flashback assumes that players help to set the course of the present through their actions in the flashback. Theyre free to act as they wish during the flashback though players should always take care to separate out what facts the characters know between past and present , and can have dramatic impact on the present tale. Its important that the Storyteller know how to frame events so as not to get caught up in a situation where he has to drastically rewrite the tale. The flashback isnt.
So, using the above example of the nemesis, itd probably be important to have the human flashback first. The characters establish whatever happens during that scene they betray the nemesis, he betrays them, they kill him, they scar him, whatever and then the Storyteller pushes the story to the present where the consequences of that flashback are seen in full-effect. World of Darkness.
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