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Salubri: The Clan of Three Ways Modern Nights: Arriba la tres ojos The Code of Samiel Ethics of Vindication Setites: The Road of Set Setite Roads Setite Warriors and Witches Warriors of Glycon. Rather, she was a slayer of men and monsters, and she dragged Dominique into the rural church by the braids in her hair with a meanness unmatched by some Cainites. Dominique allowed herself to be pulled, and inquisitors started a bit when they realized how tall she was, and how strong her build. Just death. With that, she rushed to the door in hoped of beating a second wave of inquisitors when they figured out that a patrol was missing. I will personally collect this tax or tribute starting tomorrow night. If a single one of them was under , it would have been surprising. Which might have been why there were murmurs of surprise when Granny Penne stood up, her body slouched in one direction thanks to the degeneration of her muscles and cartilage in one half of her body.
It is unfairly biased and impossible to satisfy this new law. It is inhumane to do to the childer of this city. It cannot stand. Where is your sire to speak to this? Or is this another blank lettre de cachet? But for the gentleness of my nature, I would put you down right now simply because you annoy me. You should thank Heaven for my humanity. Her muscles trembled and her skin itched. The whole of her wanted to change; the Beast railed against her heart, demanding to run free. She glanced over her shoulder, the great black crow that had been her companion for a decade now, rested on a branch, a small bundle in the claw of its left foot. Fine, she accepted the pull. You can run, and we will hunt when this is over.
Shudders of pleasure moved from her bones to her skin as the change took place. Her human skin molted, turning to ash in the air. Her long, dark braids fell away, both skin and hair revealing the shining grey pelt as if it had always been there, just under the skin. Her bones bent, broke and reformed as she ran, causing her to fall forward, and barely break stride as she became a great grey wolf that smelled of blood. The pain was exquisite and as soon as the sting of it began to fade, she was already craving the next change. Dominique and her Beast ran as one toward London. The crow stayed on her perch in the now distant tree.
The woman he was beating, the one who remained passive while he struck her again and again was his elder by centuries. But the children of power rarely see the larger picture. A few of the courtiers had filed outside now to watch the violence. Not stop it of course, but watch and pretend they were shocked. Someone chuckled when the old wretch called the man an animal, and he turned red, literally, as rage and vitae rushed through his system turning dead muscles into iron and egging his Beast on. You want to be some kind of martyr? No one believes in your sanctity, old woman! Your Road is a lie! A crutch for the weak! The finely manicured bushes to the west burst open with a shower of leaves and twigs, revealing a powerful grey wolf that stalked just two paces forward toward the conflict.
Seeing this, Penne rose to her feet. Rather, he had fallen to frenzy. The blow he delivered drove the old woman ten feet, but she stayed upright this time, as if falling earlier had been her choice. She shook her head once, and they stopped moving forward. Penne shot the harpy a look. He only grinned at her cruelly. She rolled her eyes at him. A black bird broke the tree line, its massive wings blocked the crescent moon for a moment. Never on time. He howled as an animal and the crow cawed back, threatening.
The prize you coveted. The Lady of the Lake never dawdled. Dominique lifted her arm and the bird took off. She then bowed to the assorted gentry with a flourish, making it clear by her wide gesture that her fingers ended in long sharp talons. No one tried to follow her as she backed up and left the court grounds. With an hour left before sunrise, it was possibly a mistake to meet with Dominique. The crescent moon had moved low in the sky, and the little clearing in a small wood on the border of London was dark as pitch but for that sliver of distant and silvery light. You went to court and let that imbecile pick a fight with you so you could keep the court occupied while I slipped into town with your delivery?
That could have gotten you killed. There was no better place to safely meet Agnes. And publically passing the package to her like that means that everyone knows where it is. You did your job, and well. The older woman put up no fight and let the Gangrel descend on her. A moment later, Penne pushed her away. Few could have managed it. But not tonight, I think. Penne sighed. Not tonight. ood evening. I hope we find you well. Welcome to V20 Dark Ages. Masquerade, 20th Anniversary Edition. V20 Dark Ages is its own product. What This Book Is Here are some of our goals with V20 Dark Ages. A Nostalgic Experience: Most of you are coming to this book with years of experience with Vampire.
Every single member of our team shares that. An Authentic Experience: The Dark Medieval World is all about style and authentic experiences. Note that this does not inherently mean historically accurate experiences. V20 Dark Ages takes place in , but stylistically, we pick and choose ideas, both fictional and factual, that build an evocative experience. Here, we want to offer some new experiences and characters to help fill that world. A Supplemental Experience: This book is not Roleplaying or Storyteller System We have all the rules, but we saved space on rules elaboration and examples so we could devote that space to more game content.
They share some traits with mythological, literary, and cinematic vampires. Mostly true. While they can be destroyed, they can live forever. Vampires drink blood. Vampires exist on the blood of the living. They take no sustenance from mortal food. NEW RULES, OLD RULES art of our philosophy of bringing an authentic but not always accurate experience is offering some P new angles and ideas in game rules. We want to give you a little more bang for your buck and provide some fresh content to go along with the swaths of reprinted and recompiled material. If you prefer the Vampire: the Dark Ages version of Superpowerus 5 over ours, use it. drink via retractable fangs, which they develop immediately upon becoming undead. Some vampires kill dozens or even hundreds of humans across their years. Vampires choose to create new vampires by draining a mortal of all their blood, then feeding them from their own veins.
Vampires are demons. Vampires are possessed of a dark passenger deep within, a Beast, which compels them to monstrous fight or flight responses. But vampires are essentially people in a horrific situation. Vampires die in the sun. Vampires shy from crosses and running water. While some rare specimens cannot stand classic banes such as garlic and crosses, most have no issue. However, some of particularly true faith can repel vampires with the strength of their convictions. Vampires die from a stake through the heart. However, wooden stakes that penetrate the heart will paralyze the undead, leaving them vulnerable.
Vampires have unholy strength and power. True and false. With time and with lineage, vampires gain certain supernatural abilities, from frightening strength, to the ability to make an unwitting victim fall into a false love, or to transform into a wild beast. Vampires have sex. Unabashedly true. Vampiric existence is one of taboo and dark celebration. To many, sex fit those What is a Vampire. descriptions well. If anything, to vampires, sex is only diminished somewhat by the constant overstimulation of feeding. To a vampire, the moment of feeding is the single most ecstatic, euphoric experience of their immortal existences.
Indeed, some attribute a holy origin to the rapture of blood drinking. They have great sex. They also need to feed on human blood to survive. These things can occur at the same time, but they are not the same thing. Mimicking human reproductive functions, lubrication, and ejaculation, requires the expenditure of blood for all but rare vampires. This can make sex a wasteful proposition. But keep in mind that not all sex is penetrative; vampires have penetration down without the need for vanilla sex. Caine, from the Abrahamic Bible, who killed his brother.
Caine, who God cursed for committing the first murder. According to the legend, Caine took his vampiric curse on the road and created three other vampires. This Second Generation of vampires created thirteen. These thirteen, the Third Generation, each birthed a clan of vampires. The Embrace Vampires were once human. They become Cainites through a process called the Embrace. The corpse becomes Cainite, and rises, hungry. The new vampire is undead; her heart does not beat, she does not breathe, she need not eat. Over the following nights, she adapts and adjusts to her new state, learning the capabilities of her Cainite vitae — the cursed blood that animates her. The Hunt The hunt means something different to every Cainite. Sometimes it means frightening a combatant with vulgar displays of power. To many, it means cultivating a cadre of humans who grow to need the closeness of the Kiss — the Cainite bite. The hunt is a shift in power dynamics.
The vampire finds a person and puts him into a moment of vulnerability. No matter how she finds that vulnerability, or whom she finds it in, she finds it. Sometimes she creates it. Sometimes she searches long and hard for it. Sometimes she simply waits for it. Source Material Vampires are popular. Also, the night sky is black. Finding source material for your V20 Dark Ages chronicle should be no difficult task. But beyond vampire stories, right now, period dramas and stylistic medieval fantasy are huge. It gives a strong, compelling look at every day life in the period. Unlike many accountings, this greatly favors the common, working class person. Which is to say, the kinds of people Cainites would be likely to interact with on a night-to-night basis.
Chapter One: A Place in Time This is your introduction to V20 Dark Ages. It covers what it means to be a vampire, a Cainite, in Chapter Two: The Clans of Caine Next, we explore the clans of Caine, and some of the esoteric bloodlines of vampires not so tightly married to the clan structure. Chapter Three: The Roads Afterwards, we touch on the Roads vampires walk, the philosophies and loose organizations that keep them from devolving into animals. Chapter Four: Character Creation Now, we make the characters with which we tell our stories. As well, we define the traits that comprise your characters. Chapter Five: Disciplines Next, we address the gifts of Cainite blood; the sorceries and powers vampires wield. Chapter Six: Rules These are the basic rules for play.
They are how we resolve conflicts in V20 Dark Ages. Chapter Eight: Storytelling This chapter provides advice for how to tell your stories and make a game flow. Chapter Nine: The Dark Medieval World Here, we offer advice, essays, and options for crafting the world in which your story takes place. We also provide ideas and systems for Storyteller characters to fill out the setting. Appendix A: Merits and Flaws Here, we provide Merits and Flaws, optional traits to add expanded detail to your characters. Appendix B: Apocrypha of the Clans This section features bonus content, some new game traits, some additional fiction, and other material to offer some depth to your V20 Dark Ages chronicles. Playing The Game V20 Dark Ages, you will have the chance to tell many of tales. Sweeping sagas that stretch from one end Iof thenkinds continent to the other.
Meandering yet shocking trails through the politics of church and state. Gory crusades, desperate pilgrimages, and hopeful relocations are all fair game. Regardless of the chronicle the Storyteller places before you and the tale you dare to tell, there is one story each player will have to tell: the story of being a Cainite, a vampire, in the Dark Medieval World. Regardless of clan, affiliations, or missives, the Beast within and the blood-splattered drive to sate your nature. trickles through every aspect of the story. Whether you see your vampiric nature as a calling, a blessing, or a curse, your nature is what it is. You can choose how you deal with it. But you must face it. You must build your unlife as a vampire around it carefully, meticulously, lest the structures of society, culture and belief come crashing down around you. The Beast runs it course. Its dark urge ebbs and flows, waxes and wanes.
To control it, to use it, you must become familiar with it. You must learn the cycles of your hunger, how much blood is needed to quiet the Beast to where you can think again, how to deal with the crash after the ecstasy of sinking your teeth into the flesh of your victim, and how to cope with the hunger creeping in again, threatening to shake the brief moment of peace you had. Exercise, habit, and rituals can focus the mind away, prolonging any one stage of the bestial cycle. Yet everything you do leads you around and around, forever until your final night. You pull back from or claw towards these stages, trying to merge this aspect of your life with that you are forced to lead and survive. Popes, kings, and armies come and go. At the end of the night, your hunger still remains. Exposition - The Hunger Every evening you awake and something is wrong.
You are hungry. You recall other evenings, evenings from another life. You would wake up, your stomach rolling within you, growling. You would eat stale, yeasty bread and sharp, salty cheese, wash it down with a gulp of flat beer and go lay down again. You would feel the chunks of food between your teeth. The mossy feel of a dirty mouth as you rolled over in bed and pulled the sheets over your head to keep out the dark. The memory seems so far off. You always wonder why you bother recalling it. You wake up and something is wrong. You are alone. Something is lost on the translation.
It sticks in your throat. Your mouth is dry. It is often dry. Hungry is as close as you can get to describing the sensation. But your stomach never growls, not ever. You growl. You lack. Yet you are so much improved from days you desired bread and cheese. Faster, stronger, deeper, keener. Still, an emptiness within you yawns. From within it, the growl comes. The demand. It shouts the price for your being, the desire of your unbeating heart. It shrieks. Playing the Game. Hungers hold hope in being satisfied. You are awake. Something is wrong. You ate yesterday. It was wet, and sticky, and hot. You remembered in life, at the height of ecstasy, panting, shuddering, sweating. Now you never breathe. You never shiver. You never sweat. You feel hungry. Now you gulp. Gulp, lick, slurp, suck. Hot, rich blood filled your mouth, flooded your throat.
The Hunger inside you melts away, dissolved by what you have greedily taken. Your greed sates it. But that was yesterday. This is today. Many go hungry in the Dark Medieval World. Food security means the difference between life and death for everyone. A ruler who controls the distribution of food throughout the land amasses power and draws the eyes and wrath of those with open mouths and empty bellies. Food does not come easily. It must be grown or found. It must be killed and it must be prepared. Food is cooked over fire in homes. Whatever cannot be eaten carefully preserved and stored away for those lean times. Food is often shared and people are thankful for it. Prayers and sacrifices are made for good crops and fair weather, to ensure at the very least, the people will have full stomachs. And then there is you, the vampire. You cannot partake in the feast around you. The community of eating, so important to this time, is forbidden to you.
It sickens you. And crueler still, the food you need presses in around you, tempting you with its scent and vigor. Feast and famine effects you just as it does the humans who mill about you. Foods you loved in life may tempt you or repulse you now, the memories of their texture and flavor a burden. The hunger you feel is more than the need for sustenance. It is a lack, deep inside, which must be filled. It is destructive, gnawing at you. The power your sustenance gives you makes it more tempting. The nature and scope of the thing you need does nothing to lessen your desire for it. You need blood. You can smell it around you. You know where to get it. It is within your grasp, yet you must not indulge.
You are trying to have a conversation with the priest who has information on where the monk in question may have gone off to. Yet you can smell the sweet odor of his sweat, feel the heat pulsing at his neck, and hear the thump of a heart still living within their chest. You must weigh your opportunities. You must feed before you become too weak, too vulnerable. Whatever you have told yourself is the reason for your nature, for the Beast which snarls and snaps within you must be reckoned with. How hungry do you allow yourself to get? How close do you walk to humans when your craving scrapes at the very edge of your cold, dead skin? What do you do to keep yourself from reaching forward faster than they can anticipate and taking what you thirst for? Action - The Hunt If you could salivate, drool would drip from your mouth. You would slobber. The street is full of them. They walk the street.
Some carry torches. Some have destinations. Others wander. Holy symbols hang at their necks and wrists. The symbols never mask the smell. The smell of dirty, hot skin, and beneath that, hotter still, is the heady, intoxicating scent of their blood. Their skin is so soft, so thin. It does nothing to mask the fragrance of what you would take from them. The buildings are full of them. They lock their doors. They hang their charms in the doorways. These items do nothing to sway you. They cannot deter you. They do not sate you and so they cannot stop you. The warmth of the building is the warmth of those within. You wish to bury that warmth deep inside you. When you talk to them, the hunger within stirs.
The chasm widens, as if to invite you in. Sink deep. Sink your teeth deep. If you could drool, you would slobber. Spittle would spray from your mouth. It would land on their hot skin. You have found someone. You have made your reasons and your excuses. This is the one, you tell yourself. If you could drool, you would wipe your mouth with your hand. Torchlight dances around you. The torchlight is for the victim. It makes them feel safe. You could see them in the dark. You have marked them. You can feel them. Anticipation sharpens you. Your prey walks and you follow. Sometimes you follow in the shadows, away from the bright orange fingers of torches, orange fingers that pry. Sometimes you follow in plain sight. Your reasons and excuses spur you on. Your feet travel over dirt roads, through tall, dry grasses, hot, dusty sand, the haphazard cobblestones of a street younger than yourself, over the smooth stones of the temple floor.
You swallow, hard. A gesture left over from another life. Your mouth would be watering. Your feet are so quiet. If your prey suspects anything, they do not suspect you. They do not suspect what you are. What you will do. No reaction comes from your body, dead but alive. Still you stalk. You follow. You draw closer. Your hunger is a blessing. It is a gift. It will grant you success. It ties you to your prey. This is the one. Patience is rewarded with success. Success turns to surprise. You feel their heart thump harder. The reek of fear. You are real. They see you for what you are. They see they are the prey and you are the predator. They see it is too late. Still, they run. And you chase. If your mouth could water you would be drooling. At least you can throw your head back and laugh. Depending on your life and personal morals, you may stave off feeding as long as you can.
Or you may embrace it as a rite of your people, knowing soon the Beast which lies coiled within you will soon be able to strike and have its fill. Eventually, you will decide the time is right and you will engage in the Hunt. Some vampires have rituals or parameters they hunt within. They may set aside certain days for hunting or certain phases of the moon, or stars may signal the time to begin your search for your victim. Others still simply wait until their Hunger hones their Beast to a fine point, finding that keen moment where their senses are honed to the delicate instrument needed to exact their prey. Just as human hunters come with many methodologies and targets, so do vampires. Some are undiscerning and simply grab the first unfortunate who passed by as they lay in wait. Others seek out particular individuals or frequent certain locations, knowing the type of prey they seek is likely to pass through.
A number may have stipulations to lessen the cruelty they are about to force upon whoever comes into their grasp. They may lay bait for their prey, reasoning it away as compassion. At least their prey had a full belly and no cares before they were dispatched. Hunting may take place over the course of the night or over a long period of time, the vampire stalking the prey in the open or from the shadows. Perhaps to heighten the connection, to make feeding more meaningful? As a challenge? Vampires are not alone, stalking the hovels, streets, and roads of the Dark Ages. Charlatans and rogues look for purses and goods.
Sex workers look for customers, selling their wares without displaying them first. Inquisitors boldly pursue heretics, torches raised high. Witch hunters and those tuned to the supernatural search in the dark, peeking behind the veil between the worlds frayed and thin when the sun is a memory. All who linger outside at night have their reasons for doing so. Hunting is different from hunger. In hunger, the vampire is acutely aware of their disconnect from the rest of the human populace, in all the facets that may entail. In the hunt, the vampire first engages with the prey. Their senses, heightened and precious, see, smell, and hear things the prey is unaware of, the promise of taste. both goading the vampire on and forcing them to keep themselves under control. They focus on their intended. Impending intimacy looms. Death looms. They cannot know or they will flee. If they flee, they may cry out and the hunter may become the hunted.
The chronicle may require you to take your eyes from your mark. It may require you to engage a mortal in the hunt that you would not otherwise pursue on the behalf of an organization or individual seeking out the mortal demise of a liability. It may remove you from your hunting grounds or force you to change your methodology. In the hunt, you may still lie to yourself. Others stalk in the evening hours. Yet none are looking for what you are looking for, and not for the same reason. The Beast desires and the self strives to direct. You must measure yourself against your hunger and pace the pursuit of what you require. You will have it. It is simply a matter of when. Climax - The Feeding Grip. The stretch of your mouth. You bite down hard. Teeth tear through skin, muscle, veins. Soft, tough, chewy, hot. Your mouth will not hold back. Fear shoots hot, thick blood into your mouth.
It gushes. It wants to leave their body. Blood spreads itself wantonly over your tongue. You soar. It is more passionate than the most sensual kiss. It is more satisfying than the finest delicacies, more intoxicating than the headiest wines, and more liberating than the most sacred of religious rites. The Beast has what it wants, and yet it asks for more. And more comes. It flows so freely, like an offering, for you. All your reasons and excuses melt away. There is no need for justification. There is no judgment. There is no damnation. There is you. There is your mouth. There is hot blood. There is a body pressed up against yours, so close, so giving.
Your mouth is wet with it. And still, it comes. Feeding is the ultimate paradox within the vampire. It is the vibrant, ecstatic joining of two bodies, an intimacy never to be replicated. Yet the act hurls the vampire away from humanity, thrusting them farther and deeper into the darkness as the light of the human victim is snuffed out. In the act of feeding, these two contradictory actions embrace, mingle, and coalesce. The act of feeding is violent. Even when done quietly, carefully, with a sedated or sleeping victim, it is still the rending of flesh so blood may be spilled.
It is Cainite versus Seth. It is Caine murdering Abel again, removing the glory the human may have brought the world. Blood, generally reserved for deities and demons coats your throat, flows through your limbs, invigorating you. The rush of the chase leads to the rapture of feeding. More intoxicating than any Bacchanal rite, you are a childe Playing the Game. of Caine in that moment. Each vampire will have their own method and rituals for feeding, but the desire to drain the victim dry and move on to the next is strong.
The Beast no longer slinks through your nightly life. In that moment, it is your life, and if you cannot contain it, it will rage, uncontrolled. It does not wish to remain in the cage of rules and rituals, only summoned to perform tricks. It wants to sink its terrible teeth and crunch bone, slurp blood and suck the marrow from those it can catch. Every feeding is the damning evidence that you are not a human. Every feeding is a frenzied proclamation as to your new, powerful, dreadful heritage. Every drop of strange blood that fills you makes you stronger, better. Mercy is shown at your discretion. The habit of killing and the growl of the Beast makes each drawing from the vast pool of humanity easier. You long for a day where you can glut yourself, even as blood fills your mouth. It is up to you to pull back, to disengage from this fleeting connection and force your Beast back behind the trappings of law and rules you use to contain it. You have your fill, as much as you dare.
As much as you can allow yourself. As much as they have. You are full. But you are never sated. The Denouement All you dared to take has been given. Warmth flows through you. The blood within you is fresh. The event is fresh. It has not been given. You have taken it. The Beast within has had its fill. Yet still, it wants more. It is not your place to be sated. Even when your body can hold no more blood, it still seeks more. It seeks destruction. It seeks answers. It seeks justification. You would devour everything in its path, as those deities of old once did. Bone would crack, flesh tear, blood spray across your cold, lustful face. Screams would rise into the sky and gurgle, fade and then be silent under your terrible mouth.
Satisfaction flees from you as this truth enters your mind, mixing with animating blood. Your face is sticky and you lick your lips. Still you want more. It is never enough. The distractions of politics and knowledge and travel and treachery and friendships and vendettas are never enough. You bite your lip. Something else. Something different from you. They were alive. Now they are dead. And you are alone. Growing colder as the Beast snarls for just a bit more. Just one more. If you could cry, tears would fall from your eyes. A thief, you take what is not yours. A murderer, you snuff out the life of the unsuspecting. A liar, you spin truths and misdirect to hide your secret. The gorging of blood fills the vampire with hyperbolic emotions, abilities. The Beast is quieted and all your senses quick and keen, able to function without the constant whispers to feed. Human company becomes more bearable, their scent not as tempting. But eventually, the high wears off. The realization sinks in.
This may happen while your victim still lays across your lap, their limbs already stiffening in yours. It could happen after some weeks, when the first pangs of Hunger begin to gnaw, your previous feeding seeming futile. Your memories are sharp in your mind. The bodies and victims pile up. Each feeding leads to another. You and your kind remain relegated to the dark. Your kin and clan members stretch on and on, fighting and feeding, towards what? You consume and watch people, villages and cities die, fall, decay. Some vampires. may crash hard, becoming horribly depressed and macabre. Others may simply become more stoic. Others may avoid speaking of the growing emptiness yawning within them as the fresh blood grows old and then drains away during the unlife sustaining them all. The Beast, sated, sleeps and the vampire is left alone with their thoughts, to consider their place in the world. The distractions of social and clan-related obligations may allow the Cainite to focus and recuperate from the bloody ordeal of feeding.
But eventually, the Beast will stir again. And the Hunger will, again, take hold. This endless cycle will manifest differently for every vampire in the game. Some vampires will embrace all aspects. Some will drag parts out, avoiding certain stages. But no vampire can free itself from this, the need for blood and all that entails. Other vampires are also being crushed under this circle of gluttonous desire and exultant pleasure, even those who embrace their vampiric nature completely. The famished and the feasted all walk the shadows of our Dark Medieval World.
There is no escaping the cycle. How you approach your own vampiric nature will affect your fellow characters and your place in the society of Cainites. An outside observer might think that writing a Cainite history would be simple. At the very least, he might suppose composing a history of the last thousand years would be a simple matter. After all, the events in question are in living memory—or at least, something like living memory. I will take a moment to note here that, despite my ability to compel the truth from them, I have found the histories dictated to me by ghosts are only slightly more reliable than those of the living.
These passion-warped shades cannot be relied upon to provide an objective account of anything, but their accounts are entertaining, if nothing else. But I digress. It is my contention that the long-lived nature of the Cainites renders the composition of a concise and accurate Cainite history all the more difficult. Let us take the example of Prince Mithras of London. He claims to be the founder of Mithraism and source of its mysteries. By popular account, he styled himself a living sun god and enjoyed the worship of elites all over the Roman Empire, but evidently grew bored of being a deity and decided to enjoy a bucolic existence in London.
I do not mean to cast doubt upon the formidable Prince Mithras himself. It is an extraordinary claim, but Mithras is a most extraordinary being. I wish merely to highlight that not only has our history been written and rewritten to suit the victors for millennia, but also that our histories are simultaneously of outlandish scale and yet entirely plausible. I do wonder what they will write of Constantinople in a thousand years. Will they remember it as a glorious paradise ruled by an angel, tragically undone by treacherous outsiders? Will they remember when it was Byzantium, ruled by Cappadocians for a millennium before their arrival? Web icon An illustration of a computer application window Wayback Machine Texts icon An illustration of an open book. Books Video icon An illustration of two cells of a film strip. Video Audio icon An illustration of an audio speaker. Audio Software icon An illustration of a 3.
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Giulia Barbano, Tanya Cohan-Diaz, Elin Dastal, J Dymphna Coy, Jim Fisher, Anna Kreider, Anna Loy, David A Hill Jr, Danielle Lauzon, Geoffrey McVey, Marianne Pease, Neall Raemonn Price, Renee Knipe, Renee Ritchie, Lauren Roy, Monica Speca, Tristan J. Tarwater, Steffie de Vaan, Brian York, Filamena Young. Credits Developed By: David A Hill Jr Written By: Giulia Barbano, Elin Dastal, Tanya Cohan-Diaz, J Dymphna Coy, Jim Fisher, Renee Knipe, Anna Kreider, Anna Loy, David A Hill Jr, Danielle Lauzon, Geoffrey McVey, Marianne Pease, Neall Raemonn Price, Renee Ritchie, Lauren Roy, Monica Speca, Tristan J.
Brown, Tom Dowd, Andrew Greenburg, Chris McDonough, Lisa Stevens, Josh Timbrook, and Stewart Wieck. A Book of Five Backer Thanks Chapter One: Jason Ludwig. For reminding me of a classical musician. Chapter Two: Jeremy Miller. For telling me to call him wolfshead, after the single word of , he contributed. Chapter Four: Henry R. Moore III, for having the only name that would fit fine in this book without any fussing. Chapter Five: Khrystof, well, to be honest, I guess his would, too. 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. White Wolf, Vampire, World of Darkness, Vampire the Masquerade, and Mage the Ascension are registered trademarks of CCP hf. Vampire the Requiem, Werewolf the Apocalypse, Werewolf the Forsaken, Mage the Awakening, Promethean the Created, Changeling the Lost, Hunter the Vigil, Geist the Sin-Eaters, V20, Anarchs Unbound, Storyteller System, and Storytelling System are trademarks of CCP hf. All characters, names, places and text herein are copyrighted by CCP hf. CCP North America Inc. is a wholly owned subsidiary of 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. What This Book Is 12 What is a Vampire?
The Embrace 22 Physiognomy of the Dead 22 The Beast 23 Midnight Courts and Churchyards 24 The War of Princes 24 The Audacity of Youth 24 Social Distinctions 24 Age 24 Fledglings 24 Neonates Ancilla 25 Elders 25 Methuselah 25 Antediluvians 25 Clans Both High and Low 25 Clans 26 Crowns and Beggars 26 The Roads 27 The Traditions 27 The First Tradition: The Covenant 27 The Second Tradition: The Domain 28 The Third Tradition: The Progeny 28 The Fourth Tradition: The Accounting 28 The Fifth Tradition: Destruction 29 The Sixth Tradition: The Silence of the Blood 29 Dead Cities 30 Prince 30 Keeper 30 Chamberlain Sheriff 31 Harpies, Scourges, and Others 31 Tales of Damnation 32 Brother Slays Brother 32 Generation 32 The Amaranth 32 Understanding the Generations 33 Second Generation 33 Third Generation 33 Fourth and Fifth Generation 33 Sixth and Seventh Generation 33 Eighth, Ninth, and Tenth Generation 34 Eleventh and Twelfth Generation 34 Thin Blood 34 Enemies and Mysteries 35 Hunters 35 Werewolves 35 Witches 35 Shining Ones 36 Ghosts 36 Deeper Mysteries Still 36 Lexicon Muddy Waters 40 High and Low Clans 40 Assamites 42 Brujah 44 Cappadocians 46 Gangrel 48 Lasombra 50 Malkavians 52 Nosferatu 54 Ravnos 56 Setites 58 Toreador 60 Tremere 62 Tzimisce 64 Ventrue 66 Bloodlines 68 Evolutions 68 Unknown Origins 68 Alternate Origins 68 Air of the Exotic 69 Exclusivity 69 Ahrimanes 70 Anda 72 Baali 74 Bonsam 76 Children of Osiris 78 Danava 79 Gargoyles 82 Giovani 84 Impundulu 86 Kiasyd 88 Lamiae 90 Lhiannan 92 Nagaraja 94 Niktuku 96 Ramanga 98 Salubri Healer Caste Salubri Warrior Caste Salubri Watcher Caste True Brujah A View of a Road Walking a Road Initiates Adherents Paragons Apostates Excommunicates Changing Roads Step One: Diminish Virtues Step Two: Wander Astray Step Three: Moment of Truth Road Ratings Road Features Ethics Initiation Organization Aura Virtues Paths Sins Against the Road Moments of Truth Golconda The Road of Beast Via Bestiae Path of the Hunter Path of Journeys Path of Liberation The Road of Heaven Via Caeli The Road of Humanity Via Humanitas Path of Breath Path of Community Path of Illumination The Road of Kings Via Reglis The Road of Lilith Derech Lilit Path of Thorns Path of Veils Path of Making The Road Of Metamorphosis Via Mutationis The Road of Sin Via Peccati Path of Pleasure Path of the Devil Path of Screams Other Paths The Christianization of Europe: A Successful Propaganda Campaign The Pagan Traditions of Europe Minor Roads The Road of Bones The Road Of Yasa Chapter Four: Character Creation Essentials of Life and Unlife The Dark Medieval World Order and Chaos Good and Evil Storyteller, Troupe, and Character Step I: Character Concept Overall Concept Clan Road Archetype: Nature and Demeanor Step II: Choosing Attributes Step III: Choosing Abilities Step IV: Choosing Advantages Disciplines Backgrounds Virtues Step V: Finishing Touches Road Score Character Creation Quick Reference Traits Attributes Physical Attributes Social Attributes Mental Attributes Abilities Talents Athletics Skills Knowledges Nature and Demeanor Backgrounds Virtues Willpower Blood Pool Health Experience Learning Disciplines High-Level Disciplines Combination Disciplines Blood Sorcery Abombwe Animalism Auspex Sudden Revelations Overstimulation Bardo Celerity Advanced Celerity Chimerstry Daimonion Dementation Dominate Flight Fortitude Advanced Fortitude Mytherceria Obfuscate Obtenebration Ogham Potence Advanced Potence Presence Protean Quietus Dice Pools Multiple Actions Difficulties Failure Botches Tens and Specialties Automatic Successes Trying Again Complications Extended Actions Resisted Actions Teamwork Using the Storyteller System Time Example of Play Examples of Rolls Chapter Seven: Systems and Drama Dramatic Systems Automatic Feats Physical Feats Mental Feats Social Feats Spending Willpower Regaining Willpower Blood Pool Using Blood Pool Replenishing Blood Pool The Blood Oath Combat Systems Types of Combat Combat Turns Initiative Resolving Actions Defensive Maneuvers Damage Combat Maneuvers Health Dice Pool Penalties Movement Penalties Incapacitated Torpor Final Death Applying Damage Mortal Healing Times Derangements Roleplaying Derangements Deterioration Diablerie Disease Faith Falling Fire and Burns Frenzy and Rotschreck Rotschreck: The Red Fear Golconda and Other Means of Salvation Becoming Mortal Poisons and Drugs Sunlight Temperature Extremes Storytelling Commandments On Storytelling Making Your World Dark Medieval Creating Nuanced Storyteller Characters Representing Other Cultures Improvisation for Storytellers and Players Play Styles Collaborative Storytelling Using the Rules Pacing Facilitating the Story Before Character Creation During Character Creation Storyteller Characters Sources for Storyteller Characters More Than Set Dressing When to Use Storyteller Characters How to Build your Storyteller Characters Bringing Storyteller Characters to the Table Antagonists and Storyteller Characters Mortals Uncommon People Nobility The Church Vampire Hunters True Faith Receiving True Faith Increasing in Faith Losing Faith Systems for True Faith Miracles Holy Artifacts The Faithful Animals Swarms Ghouls Rules Demons Sample Demons Charms Exorcism Ghosts Dark Medieval Italy The City-States The Papal States Florence and Tuscany Milan Bologna Venice Rome Kingdom of Sicily The Other Europe Hungary Transylvania Bulgaria Serbia Bosnia Bohemia Poland Lithuania Livonia Prussia Carpathian Rus The Principalities of Rus Georgia The Steppe People The Mongols Gaining and Losing Merits and Flaws Physical Merits and Flaws Physical Merits Physical Flaws Mental Merits and Flaws Mental Merits Mental Flaws Social Merits and Flaws Social Merits Social Flaws Supernatural Merits and Flaws Supernatural Merits Supernatural Flaws Assamites: A Clan of Judges Road of Blood Brujah: Letters from Carthage Cappadocians: The Cult of Lamia The Cult of Lamia Gangrel: The Last Age of Adventure Finding the Great Prey Watching The Prize Giovani: The Up and Coming Lasombra: The Road of the Abyss Malkavians: The Mysterious Spiral The Ordo Aenigmatis The Ordo Ecstasis Ravnos: The Clan of Paradox Road of Paradox Salubri: The Clan of Three Ways Modern Nights: Arriba la tres ojos The Code of Samiel Ethics of Vindication Setites: The Road of Set Setite Roads Setite Warriors and Witches Warriors of Glycon.
Rather, she was a slayer of men and monsters, and she dragged Dominique into the rural church by the braids in her hair with a meanness unmatched by some Cainites. Dominique allowed herself to be pulled, and inquisitors started a bit when they realized how tall she was, and how strong her build. Just death. With that, she rushed to the door in hoped of beating a second wave of inquisitors when they figured out that a patrol was missing. I will personally collect this tax or tribute starting tomorrow night. If a single one of them was under , it would have been surprising. Which might have been why there were murmurs of surprise when Granny Penne stood up, her body slouched in one direction thanks to the degeneration of her muscles and cartilage in one half of her body. It is unfairly biased and impossible to satisfy this new law.
It is inhumane to do to the childer of this city. It cannot stand. Where is your sire to speak to this? Or is this another blank lettre de cachet? But for the gentleness of my nature, I would put you down right now simply because you annoy me. You should thank Heaven for my humanity. Her muscles trembled and her skin itched. The whole of her wanted to change; the Beast railed against her heart, demanding to run free. She glanced over her shoulder, the great black crow that had been her companion for a decade now, rested on a branch, a small bundle in the claw of its left foot. Fine, she accepted the pull. You can run, and we will hunt when this is over. Shudders of pleasure moved from her bones to her skin as the change took place. Her human skin molted, turning to ash in the air. Her long, dark braids fell away, both skin and hair revealing the shining grey pelt as if it had always been there, just under the skin. Her bones bent, broke and reformed as she ran, causing her to fall forward, and barely break stride as she became a great grey wolf that smelled of blood.
The pain was exquisite and as soon as the sting of it began to fade, she was already craving the next change. Dominique and her Beast ran as one toward London. The crow stayed on her perch in the now distant tree. The woman he was beating, the one who remained passive while he struck her again and again was his elder by centuries. But the children of power rarely see the larger picture. A few of the courtiers had filed outside now to watch the violence. Not stop it of course, but watch and pretend they were shocked. Someone chuckled when the old wretch called the man an animal, and he turned red, literally, as rage and vitae rushed through his system turning dead muscles into iron and egging his Beast on. You want to be some kind of martyr? No one believes in your sanctity, old woman! Your Road is a lie! A crutch for the weak! The finely manicured bushes to the west burst open with a shower of leaves and twigs, revealing a powerful grey wolf that stalked just two paces forward toward the conflict.
Seeing this, Penne rose to her feet. Rather, he had fallen to frenzy. The blow he delivered drove the old woman ten feet, but she stayed upright this time, as if falling earlier had been her choice. She shook her head once, and they stopped moving forward. Penne shot the harpy a look. He only grinned at her cruelly. She rolled her eyes at him. A black bird broke the tree line, its massive wings blocked the crescent moon for a moment. Never on time. He howled as an animal and the crow cawed back, threatening. The prize you coveted. The Lady of the Lake never dawdled. Dominique lifted her arm and the bird took off. She then bowed to the assorted gentry with a flourish, making it clear by her wide gesture that her fingers ended in long sharp talons. No one tried to follow her as she backed up and left the court grounds.
With an hour left before sunrise, it was possibly a mistake to meet with Dominique. The crescent moon had moved low in the sky, and the little clearing in a small wood on the border of London was dark as pitch but for that sliver of distant and silvery light. You went to court and let that imbecile pick a fight with you so you could keep the court occupied while I slipped into town with your delivery? That could have gotten you killed. There was no better place to safely meet Agnes.
Vampire The Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition,More from Fernando Luiz Vieira Ferreira
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In London and the surrounding areas, only the most formidable elders speak to the Prince. Reader discretion is advised. Perhaps to heighten the connection, to make feeding more meaningful? All blood, no matter the source, must be used and useful, blood in the soil is an unforgivable waste. Spittle would spray from your mouth. It allows for any means to preserve the blood, not killing, but retaining the blood in other ways, darker ways. And you are alone.
And what we do to you if we find out is very simple: we destroy you. It strengthens the Beast. But keep in mind that not all sex is penetrative; vampires have penetration down without the need for vanilla sex. Seeing this, Penne rose to her feet. Then their childer, and their grandchilder and so on. Action - The Hunt If you could salivate, drool would drip from your mouth. Is this what comes of a long period of Wassail, or a unique expression of the Beast?
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