By: Lee Elmore - Demon Wordsmith
Your sire was betrayed by the court. Asked by your Primogen to negotiate a treaty with the local Anarchs. But things went bad. A militant Anarch firebombed the meeting, killing the Prince's newest childe. A scapegoat was needed and your Primogen, the whole mess his idea, pins it on your sire. No one listened to his cries of innocence as the Sheriff removed his head from his shoulders. The court cheered, glad to see an example of Camarilla justice done. You hate them for it. You hate what the Camarilla did to your sire. You hate the Anarchs for the ignorance that let this chance for peace fall apart and cost lives.
You want revenge, but what can you do about it? You're young. You don't have the power to take down the Sheriff who killed your sire, much less the Prince that ordered the death. You aren't even strong enough to take on the Anarch who firebombed the meeting. Even revenge, so sweet, so tempting, remains just out of your reach. You can do nothing but smile sweetly in court, burying the just rage that burns within you, kissing the hand of the same man who took your sire from you, pretending you don't hear them whisper about how the sins of the sire reflect on the childe.
What if there was another option?
You barely made it out of the city with your head attached. If the Templar's tire hadn't blown out, he would have had you, just like all your pack mates. The Sword teaches that all are free, that Cainites answer to none, so what is this? Your pack comes to town, just stopping in for maybe a month, some long needed rest from a lot of time on the road. You pick a place and take it over, like normal. Bust in the door and seize control of the home. Sure, it's not a good way to keep a haven for a long time, but you don't need long. You show up to the next Esbat, and not five minutes in, you've got the Bishop staring daggers at you. You ask what's up, but no one seems to know anything, and he won't talk to you. You go back to your house and lay low for a bit.
Two weeks later, there's another Esbat. This time, it's started when you get there. The Bishop is presenting some documents. Says these documents show a Camarilla plot against the city. That it shows how some of the Cainites in the city have worked to help assassinate those connections the Bishop used to keep the city free of Camarilla influence. An address keeps coming up. And then you realize, that's the house you've been using. All the Sabbat there turn on you and your pack, screaming about how you're Camarilla infiltrators. You make a break for it, but not all of your pack gets out. One of your pack-mates falls to their fangs. Then another. And another. The last two of you make it to the car and bolt. You're a good driver, but that Templar is better. If it wasn't for that lucky tire, he would have caught you both. As it is, a hot round still caught your last pack mate in the back of the head. He's sitting there next to you, deader than dead, and you've got no idea what's going on.
Come to find out later, the house belonged to the Bishop's favorite ghoul's family. He drums up all these charges against you, kills your whole pack, because of his pet's family. No one will believe you, of course. They'll take the Bishop's word. After all, he's got all this evidence. Besides, you're a nomad, you're not from around here. But what can you do about it? He's already shown that his hypocrisy is stronger than your truth. He's already shown that his hounds are more powerful than you. So you keep driving. You keep moving. You keep your head down, not sure if you'll hear about a Wild Hunt or not. It's not worth the risk. There's nothing you can do about it but keep running.
What if there was someone who could help?
They simply don't understand the genius of what you have wrought. They cling to their frail pretenses of morality, refusing to accept that they are monsters. They feed on the blood of the living and they can't accept that aren't like the people they regularly kill to keep their secrets. Yet they look down on you for your research. They look down on you as you seek to pry the very secrets of the universe out of the control of the gods. You will be one of their number. You will show them all that it was worth it. But the going is so slow. It takes eternity to master the secrets of the blood arts and in that time your enemies move to push you out of the city. If only you could speed the process up. Then, you could show them all. You could keep their petty political games at bay while you master the power of the gods themselves. If only it happened a little faster.
If only there was another way.
I've heard your story and many like it. Your reasons are not new. They date back to the beginning of man. Greed, revenge, power, lust, fame, fear, it doesn't matter. It's your reason. It's what drives you. No one accepts that - maybe you don't even accept it - but that's the truth. You are driven. You see the world around you and you want more. The bounds of acceptable society simply aren't enough. Somehow, you will sate that desire that burns deep within you.
But what if you're caught? You're more clever than they are. Their zealotry blinds them to the truth around them. Their ignorance won't let them see the signs. A few simple lies, a few careful steps and they'll never know the source of your power. All they will know is your power. They will shake at your coming. They will bend to your will. They will whisper your name - if they speak it at all - for fear you might hear them.
I can help you. What is a soul worth to one who has eternal life to look forward to? What do you care happens to you when you're finally dead? What are you willing to pay to feed that burning desire that drives you?
What sort of deal can I make for you today?