VtE 2e - Sin Again Daeva
VtE 2e - Sin Again Daeva
VtE 2e - Sin Again Daeva
like a snake,
even accidentally,
- Lord Byron
Credits
Authors: Kelly J Clark, Astra Crompton, Chris Handley, Roman
Lanzarotta, Mike Massiah, Jacob Waskow, Sam Young
Developer and Editor: Sam Young
Consulting Editor: Megan Robinson
Artists: Saoirse “Fish” Coogan, Astra Crompton, Alexander
Meza, Scott Paisley
Art Direction: Sam Young and Kelly J Clark
Design and Layout: Sam Young
Front Cover Artist: Scott Paisley
Special Thanks
Michele “Oh no, he’s hot!” Masala, for injecting some much-
needed humor into a longer than expected development cycle.
Our alluring test readers: Grace Eccleston, Robin Holford, Jen
Peters, and Christine Rattray
The team behind Kiss of the Succubus: Daeva, for making sex
and murder such an appealing combination.
© 2021 Paradox Interactive AB. All rights reserved. Vampire: The Requiem, Werewolf:
The Forsaken, Mage: The Awakening, Promethean: The Created, Changeling: The
Lost, Hunter: The Vigil, Geist: The Sin-Eaters, Mummy: The Curse, Demon: The
Descent, Beast: The Primordial, Deviant: The Renegades, Chronicles of Darkness,
Storytelling System™, Storytellers Vault™, and their respective logos, icons, and symbols
are trademarks or registered trademarks of Paradox Interactive AB. All rights reserved.
This work contains material that is the copyright of Paradox Interactive AB. Such material is used with permission under
the Community Content Agreement for the Storytellers Vault.
Check out NMD at: facebook.com/nonedarker. Visit www.storytellersvault.com for more on the Chronicles of Darkness.
Table of Contents 3
Never Let Me Go: The Wanton Curse 102 New Merits 128
Needful Things 102 New Crúac Rites 128
The Craving 103 Alu 130
Bloody Fixations: Playing the Bane 103 Background 130
Common Banes 104 Rumors 131
Player Care and the Vampire Card 105 Elizabeth Giffard 132
Systems 132
Last Night (Part V) 106 Twists of the Blood: The Imperial Line 133
Flowers of Inanna 134
Chapter Four: Haters 111 Background 134
Rumors 135
Brigman 112 Isabel Cisne 135
Where we came from 112 Systems 136
Who we are tonight 113 The Scorned 138
Three Elect 113 Background 138
Children of Nirriti 115 Rumors 138
Where we came from 115 Jerry Wilkes 139
Who we are tonight 115 Systems 140
Three Chosen 116 New Dread Powers 140
New Crúac Rite 117 Solace 141
Histrion 118 Background 141
Where we came from 118 Rumors 142
Who we are tonight 118 Three Users 142
Three Patsies 119 Systems 143
The Tribute Society 121 VLAD 144
Where we came from 121 Background 144
Who we are tonight 121 Rumors 144
Three Seekers 122 Three Infected 145
The Nemites 124 Systems 145
Sample Tree Surgeon: Gail Aido 127
Initiation 127 Last Night (Epilogue) 148
***
Last Night 7
True to his word, the contractor finished on schedule and with spectacular craftsmanship. During
its test run, the newly installed skylight filled the room with the bluish chill of night, illuminated
by a hangnail crescent moon gleaming from behind billowing clouds, like an errant Christmas
ornament. Darrell had kept the technology as simple as possible, and he’d even added an extra:
The unit was wired into the Clapper, just in case the remote ever went missing.
It was a cute touch, and as Robert Darcy thanked the contractor and showed him out for the final
time, he couldn’t help but feel a bit charmed. He was loath to take Littlejohn’s recommendation
on, well, anything, but his man did good work in half the time expected. Darcy had barely needed
to use his own considerable charms after their first meeting, when he thought the poor guy was
about to bludgeon him and run screaming into the night.
As he flipped the deadbolts on the front door, he shuddered at the thought of what had been
going through the man’s mind.
But it didn’t matter, did it? It would be over soon, and that was for the best. That was right. Each
second of delay was a cruelty, and he’d be glad to have it all done. The exhaustion of everything had
crept into Darcy’s body deeper than his bones, and with each step, he could feel cold worms burrowing
into his heart. He wandered the house like a ghost, haunting its halls until he finally retired to the
bedroom, where the recliner accepted his burden like an old friend.
Was it supposed to be like this? How did others handle it? Without the Embrace, there was a good
chance he’d still be alive tonight, wrinkled, liver-spotted, and about to celebrate his 72nd birthday.
How did the long-lived monsters survive any longer? Maybe that was the trick: be a monster. But
Darcy had been a better monster alive than dead. In life, he’d fucked, snorted, and backstabbed his
way through the world of 1970s modeling. In death, he’d become a public servant: Herald of Chicago
and upstanding member of the Carthian Movement. The Embrace brought perspective, contempla-
tion, and, worst of all, a conscience. And best of all… her. Which was also the worst, in its own way.
The television’s blank screen loomed before him like an open grave. As he ruminated, his fin-
gers spidered across the chair’s worn arm and wrapped around the TV’s remote. The action was
instinctual at this point.
The screen crackled to life like a thunderclap in the silence, and the DVD slowly spun up in the
drive. The screen showed an immense, round bed in the middle of an expansive room, painted like
a black box theater with no discernible corners or walls. It was bare, bereft of pillows or blankets,
or any other adornment save for a dark red sheet. This bed was not for sleep.
A woman stepped in front of the camera and Darcy groaned. Carmelita
Carmelita..
She was his first and only childe, and the sight of her filled his chest with a raw void. It felt the
same way every time he watched the video. Every night for the last decade.
She was wearing a black kimono with a crimson trim, and she seemed to vanish against the bed
and walls. She gave a performative bow to the camera and shrugged the robe off. No living woman
had ever been more visible. A lifetime of dance had sculpted her into a peerless beauty; every motion
radiated power, grace, and control. She ran her hands along her shoulders to her breasts, and then
down her firm stomach, trailing her manicured nails across the trim patch of hair below.
“Robert,” she purred into the camera; a decade in the future, he shivered. “Did you think I’d
forget your birthday?”
She started toward the bed, swaying her hips with a hypnotic rhythm. When she arrived, she
bent and paused to give the camera a show, then turned on the ball of her foot and lowered herself
to sit on the edge.
Last Night 9
Introduction
To me, the only sin is mediocrity.
Martha Graham
The Daeva are irresistible. at something real? The Daeva walk a tightrope between
Real vampires are curled toes and shuddering sighs, warm the Masquerade’s needs and the Requiem’s desires, and few
flesh caressed with icy hands. Do you feel wanted? You are. survive the fall.
They watch with starving eyes and smiles too full of teeth.
They cut with sharp knives and sharper words, dripping with
the sweetest poisons. And with your last breath, you’ll thank Mood: Conspicuous Consumption
them for it. It’s your night, just like every other night. You’re the center
Succubi, incubi, rakes, whores, and a thousand other dirty of attention before you walk through the door, as conversations
words, the Daeva bear many names but blossom from a single die their little deaths and the crowd parts like the sea before a
idea: sin. The Serpents use temptation and taboo to bind prophet. This evening’s costume is bleeding edge runway, from
their prey with puppet strings. They don’t need to conquer or the immaculate makeup to the heels that cost as much as a
control. No, they own us because they make us want to drop family minivan. Their covetous eyes sparkle like the diamonds
to our knees, mouths wide open for that glorious sanguine on your throat, and so you play your favorite game: laugh, and
sacrament. Just remember to smile as you swallow. watch them laugh along; gossip, and watch the rumors spread
Sin Again is the definitive sourcebook for every filthy fact like wildfire; victimize, and watch old friends turn and strike.
about the Daeva you didn’t know you needed. In addition to They stare because they’re desperate to be you, to have you — to
new Serpent fiction, systems, and bloodlines, it includes a belong to you. And you let them, because when they stare at
complete update of the mechanics in their original sourcebook, the clothes, they never see the bloodstains. When they stare at
Kiss of the Succubus, ready for prime time in Vampire: The the smile, they never note the fangs. They stare because people
Requiem Second Edition. have always stared up at stars.
This book arrives fashionably late as the fourth entry in a
series that began with Strange Shades: Mekhet, followed by
Better Feared: Nosferatu, and finally, False Gods: Ventrue. It Body Count
might not be Clanbook: Daeva Revised, but it doesn’t need to Clan Daeva was born of an unholy threesome between
be. Instead, it’s a chance to get back in bed with the Serpents the Brujah, Followers of Set, and Toreador from Vampire:
to try out some new positions, and maybe dust off a few old The Masquerade. They’re the Degenerates’ bon vivant
moves. Join us, won’t you? There’s always room for one more. vibe cranked up to the Rabble’s volume, with a touch of
the Setites’ love for sinful excess. Indeed, in Vampire: The
Requiem First Edition, the Daeva had great difficulty keeping
Theme: Want vs. Need their corruptions in check. The “Succubi” were a group of
The Serpents are addicts. Mortal affection is manna and compulsive hedonists, and their weakness reflected this by
prana and barakah, a spiritual high that few other Kindred depriving them of Willpower whenever they failed to indulge
understand. The pull of life and the anchor of death define their baser instincts. Later on in First Edition, Kiss of the
a Daeva’s Requiem, and it’s a tension she struggles with every Succubus tweaked this presentation, recasting the Daeva as
night she walks the streets. Is she going to play pretend one the Kindred most attached to humanity: no less epicurean,
more time after a thousand other lies, or is she going to share but more inclined to use mortal means to get their fix, from
the horrible truth with her beloved, just for a slim chance fashion to fanzines to film deals.
Introduction 11
Of the five clans, the Daeva might’ve had the most ink spilled Really, they’d like nothing better than to bottle you up.
over them in the transition to Vampire: The Requiem Second (Bloodlines: The Legendary)
Edition. Their nickname shifted from Succubi to Serpents, Fashion is a cutthroat business, but the Moda Mortale are
which not only de-gendered the term, but better reflected how ready to erase the competition with their bespoke garottes.
the clan operates: Snakes are beautiful creatures, but deadly The Nelapsi have a story to tell, and you’ll devour it with
if you get too close. Second Edition also reworked their bane, a boundless hunger. All the better to fatten you up for the
transforming their complicated relationship with vice into an monster at the end of the book. (Bloodlines: The Hidden)
endless cycle of obsession and heartbreak.
Death shall have no dominion with the Star-Crossed, even
if it means their precious collections dearly wish it would.
What’s in This Book As the Xiao spread their cults across the Golden State,
the sting of regret only fades, but the absence in their hearts
Sin Again: Daeva is for players and Storytellers alike.
grows ever wider. (Bloodlines: The Chosen)
Inside, you’ll find all the materials you need to zhuzh up your
Serpent characters for a night out, from bloodlines, Merits, and
Devotions to a brand-new system for running Kindred parties. Chapter Two: Blowouts
Throughout, you’ll also hit the town with Robert Darcy, a Here we RSVP to the Serpents’ greatest secret, revealing
Daeva who’s reached the very end of his rope. It’s his last night how they organize and execute the wildest parties in the All
on earth, and he plans to make the best of it — if only the lure Night Society. In addition to a complete system for creating
of romance (and a very angry vampire) would let him… and hosting your own Blowouts, you’ll also be treated to some
of the clan’s most notorious gatherings throughout history, as
Chapter One: Cousins well as genres and story seeds to inspire your own.
This chapter revisits six classic Serpent bloodlines and intro-
duces two new ones to invite to all your intimate gatherings. Chapter Three: Accessories
If you’ve been bad — really bad — the Children of Judas can This chapter provides a peak into the Serpents’ vast wardrobe.
taste it in your tears, and they crave your guilt like a junkie In addition to new Archetypes, Devotions, and Merits, we
craves the needle. (Bloodlines: The Legendary) include Second Edition updates for the mechanics in Kiss of
the Succubus. You’ll also find an in-depth look at the Wanton
The human body is a playground, but for the
Curse, as well as safety tips for including romantic (and not so
Duchagne, it’s the only thing worth getting worked
romantic) themes in your chronicles.
up for anymore. (Bloodlines: The Chosen)
The Erzsébet wear their sins upon their aging
faces, but before time has its way with their Chapter Four: Haters
flesh, they’ll dance on all our graves. (Kiss of Finally, we review the blacklist. Beyond four
the Succubus) greedy new ghoul families and a covenant
The Gulikan would love to capture bearing pamphlets, you’ll meet a posse of
that je ne sais quoi of yours. horrors ready to crash the party. Let’s just
hope they all play nice.
Introduction 13
Part Two: Station to Station
The bar was better when it was called Century.
Century. Carmelita changed the name to Station back
in 2006, a stupid dig at Darcy’s status as a “lowly” Carthian versus her newfound prestige in the
Invictus. It was a petty insult, but it stung and continued to do so. It’s the small things that kill,
and Serpents are masters of death by a thousand paper cuts.
What hurt more was that Century had been special to them. It had been their place, where he’d
found her, fallen in love with her, and decided to keep her forever. She’d loved the club as much
as he had… until he killed her, and everything changed.
As Herald, Darcy was expected to make the rounds at various Kindred nightspots, but he’d
worked hard to avoid this one ever since Carmelita got her hooks in it. Now that he’d returned,
he couldn’t deny the renovations were well-appointed — everything modernized and sleek, rede-
signed with dozens of hidden pockets for indiscretions and feedings — but being here again felt
like sneaking into a graveyard. Then the bass hit, and the smell of the crowd washed over him:
sweat, vanilla, cherry, and blood. Something in the air sparked a sensation buried deep within
him, forcing the ghosts to release their hold, and it was as if he was seeing everything for the first
time again.
Nothing ever changes in night clubs, and that’s why people love them. Darcy cut his teeth and
his coke in joints like Studio 54, back when disco was king and so was he. The glitzy pageantry
had given way to the chic minimalism of the modern era, but it had always been (and always would
be) a meat market. A jolt of hunger compressed his ribs and brought him back to the present,
and once again the specter of ennui seized his useless heart, along with the thrum of the sound
system. The music was overproduced, discordant dubstep mated with TikTok mumble-rap; in
his daze, he’d stumbled onto the dance floor, where he suddenly found himself standing in the
middle of the crowd like a discarded lamp, wondering why no one made good music anymore.
Or at least spoke clearly.
You’re sounding your age, Robert, a voice chided from the back of his mind. Stop standing around
like a fossil and go pretend to have a drink. He sighed and let the Blood warm his face, no longer the
Ghost of Discos Past.
As he turned to the bar, any lingering haze vanished as his suspicions of Carmelita’s spite were
confirmed. The vintage backsplash mirror had been blurred to add a surreal atmosphere (and to
cover for any Kindred who happened to fall victim to old wives’ tales), and the beautiful wood-carved
bartop had been replaced with an impersonal black synthetic piece. It was flanked by eighteen high-
back leather seats, but mixed in among them was a pair of crimson swivel stools on silver posts.
It seemed as if the staff had swapped them in after a couple of the newer ones broke — but Darcy
knew better. Those chairs were where they’d first met.
Carmelita had been perched atop the left seat, twirling a straw between her fingers with idle
interest as a pair of duds tried to convince her to be the meat in their devil’s triangle. He couldn’t
blame them for trying. The flawless ballerina’s dark hair was in a wild, wavy deluge, and she’d
stained her lips red to match her satin boned gown. As Darcy would later learn, she had already
performed twice that day, yet somehow she still looked like a goddess.
But if he had to be honest, it was the shoes that had called him over. It was silly; the definition
of desire was sitting right in front of him, laughing and rolling a maraschino cherry on her tongue,
but all he could focus on was a pair of Blahnik “Ivy Shoe” remakes, swinging under the bar like
Last Night 15
“Hi there!” Darcy said as he wiggled his fingers in greeting. “Beau, was it? I’m Robert Darcy. We
haven’t met, which is weird seeing as I work for the guy in charge.”
“I hear there ain’t no guy in charge anymore,” the vampire growled.
“Well,” Darcy replied, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper, “there are still rules. And a sheriff.”
“That so?”
Darcy glanced at the woman, who shot them both a look that said, I don’t know what macho bull-
shit you two are on about, but it’s none of my business, and I’m not interested in making it so. She had very
expressive eyebrows.
“Don’t worry, kid, he’s never too busy to meet the new guy. How about we go meet him together?
I’d hate for you to break a rule you might regret.”
Beau stood up and straightened to his full height, half a foot over Darcy. “I ain’t no kid kid,, and I’ll
meet your friend later. Now, leave me with my girl.”
Something about that response twisted Darcy’s gut. The Beast snarled, urging words from his
mouth, and the Man was too consumed with that damn scent to stop them. “Well, yeehaw yeehaw,, asshole.
Did I miss the cattle brand on your heifer?”
“The fuck you say?” Beau reared back, his fist poised like a scorpion’s stinger. Oops.
Darcy braced for impact, but just as the kid was about to hit him, the woman cut in. “That’s
enough!” She pushed a hand into Beau’s chest, hard enough to unbalance him. Apparently, she
was stronger than she looked, because whether she meant to or not, the impact knocked him
into a passing waiter holding a drink tray. Even with Kindred reflexes, Beau couldn’t avoid being
drenched in schnapps as he tumbled to the ground. A crash rang out as the tray launched across
the floor, followed by the sound of tearing fabric as Beau’s leg came down awkwardly, ripping his
jeans from thigh to crotch.
“Jesus!” The woman rushed to his side and tried to help him up, but he slapped her hand away,
and it came down hard on a piece of broken glass, which bit eagerly into the flesh of her palm.
Blood poured onto the floor, and Darcy felt his eyes catch in the gravity of each drop’s orbit. He
wasn’t alone. Beau’s pupils grew so large they filled his irises, but then narrowed in shame as he
noticed the clubbers around him laughing and pointing: His pants had split in the fall, revealing
an unfortunate decision to ride commando. He tried to clamber to his feet, but let out a cry of
pain as the broken glass shifted and more blood coated the floor.
Darcy wasn’t paying attention, though. He was too fixated on the red beads pooling in the wom-
an’s palm, staring longingly as she went to the barman for his first aid kit. He felt an urge to go to
her, as if pulled by an invisible hand, but before he could, a roaring vampire grabbed him by the
throat with a very visible one.
“Yarrgh,” said Darcy.
“You have no clue who you’re messing with, cousin. You’re in for a whole goddamn world of
hurt. She’s—”
“Kick my ass if you like,” Darcy managed through a compressed throat, “but you’re unacknowl-
edged, and I’m the Prince’s Herald. You don’t want the pain I can bring down on you you.. Now, go glue
your dick back together or I’ll call the Sheriff on your undocumented ass.”
Beau’s eyes were alight with the threat of frenzy, and for a long moment, Darcy thought he was
going to get murdered at Station, of all places. But then the other vampire noticed the mass of
Last Night 17
chapter one
Cousins
We’re everything you crave but can’t have.
We’re the scream of ecstasy, the thrill of surrender, the shock of hot blood on cold lips.
We’re the Daeva, baby, and everyone wants to be us.
Hope you’ve got your ticket ready, because tonight’s lineup is just dying to take the stage:
The addict, the hedonist, the fraud, the merchant, the slayer, the legend, the collector, the leech.
Some are mythic despoilers, the masses begging them for the privilege of corruption.
Some are new temptations, but you’re already hungry for a taste of their fresh sins.
So open your heart and legs, and do what you were going to do along: anything we want.
First thing’s first: We didn’t name ourselves. Who the fuck candy. But… we’re addicts. Desperate ones. And you know who’s
would want to be called the Children of Judas? That name’s noth- got just oodles of tasty atrocities squirreled away? Vampires,
ing but baggage, and we’ve got more than enough of that already. especially old ones. Apparently, when faced with several hun-
Unfortunately, we also have all the internal organization of an dred years’ worth of remorse all at once, of suddenly caring
orgy for the blind, so we’re stuck with it. about all the lives they’ve casually razed, some of our “donors”
Second, we didn’t ask to be this way. Ours isn’t the sort of off themselves rather than experience one more moment of
illustrious lineage you join in search of wealth and prestige. their rotten Requiems. That sort of thing tends to cause a stir,
Every single one of us is a victim, of one kind or another, and especially when it’s a prince or some other highly-visible asshole
that’s before the rest of the dead-man-walking crowd starts tak- who decides to give themself a tan. Doesn’t matter it’s only
ing swings. Probably why “Hanged” is our preferred sobriquet. happened, like, ten times in all of recorded history. A couple
We’re cheery like that. dozen at most. Accidentally cause a few horrid old leeches to
For a bunch of killjoy grief-addicts that nobody wants at their dust themselves, and all of a sudden you’re the Suicide Kings.
party, we’ve been around awhile. You can find records of us Fucking great.
in all sorts of domains going back centuries. They’re usually
records of execution, but hey. It’s good to have a history. Of Why you want to be us
course, that isn’t the same as knowing where we come from,
It’s a nasty burden to yearn for people’s worst crimes and
but we’ll get to that. Where we’ve been isn’t as important as
regrets, and no one’s going to thank you for bringing that
what we do.
shit up. Still, there’s a poetry in what we do. In what we are.
We taste things in the blood. Tragedy, sin, remorse, whatever We’re consequences for those who face none, a conscience
you want to call it. If you’ve been naughty and we take a nip, for monsters who’ve discarded their own. It’s almost worth
we get a peek at your shame. Yes, it happens every time; no, we being treated like a cross between a leper and the worst kind
can’t stop it. Wish it weren’t so. Worse, we need those terrible, of snitch. Almost.
no good memories — need them almost as much as we need
the Blood.
Picture a junkie. The most strung-out, hollow-eyed meth
Why you should fear us
addict who ever pissed on a bus stop at 4AM on December We know what you did. We know where all the bodies are
31st. That’s us, except instead of black tar and bricks, we’re buried, and we can count the exact number of ribs on each
craving your worst betrayals and most painful, secret failures, skeleton stuffed in your closet. Your worst choices are our best
dredging them up from the bleakest annals of your mind in meals, but we need you to feel the guilt again to fill our bellies.
living color. Sure, any Serpent can make you spill your guts It’s okay if you don’t remember how. We shall remind you.
with a pout and a wiggle, but we make you feel bad about it.
We can’t make you feel squat about us, but we can make you Why we should fear ourselves
feel really, really terrible about yourself. Easy to see why we’re We show people the worst of themselves and lap up their
so popular. tears like bloody gumdrops. It earns us exactly zero friends, a
Last thing: That oh-so-jolly nickname the rest of the no-pulse truly staggering amount of hate, and we can’t. Fucking. Stop.
crowd slapped on us? Really overblown. It’s not as if we go The only way to end our addiction to misery is to end ourselves,
around handing out cyanide and razor blades like Halloween and if that isn’t some razor-sharp irony, nothing is.
Physical pleasure is too often dismissed as indolence. Mammals Chat with the phone sex gal. She doesn’t look a day past 60
evolved to feel good — it keeps the young occupied and the mature at 120, but that voice still flows like caramel. Tastes like it too.
focused on fucking. By the same token, pain also has its uses: She made a fortune helping lonely hearts remember the good
Don’t touch the hot stove; don’t step on the broken glass; don’t old days, but these nights she just does it for fun.
let the dead thing bite you. Pain is a medium, and handled with The modern Decadents first emerged in the French Revolution,
care it offers its own delights. Yet the Kindred think they’ve grown but they had predecessors, cults to hedonism the All Night
beyond these drives. What earthly delight response matches a Society still recalls with shame and envy. All bloodlines claim
Kiss on the throat or Vitae on the tongue? Human sensation is contradictory origins, but the Duchagne can confirm a few of
a shadow of what a vampire can do just by bleeding. them. Elders with the same blood as the French clutch say they
To this, the Duchagne say, give us five minutes. were Yangists in the Warring States, spreading the ethics of
Call a Duchagne a hedonist and she’ll ask why you aren’t one egoism among the All Night Society, and a handful remember
too. The Embrace brings a silver platter of corruptions, but the lustful nights as Pan worshippers, ministering erotic floggings
Kindred act as if they’re on a diet, distracting themselves from on behalf of pre-Acolyte cults. Records and common legends of
the raw joys of death with intrigues and schemes. Not that the bloodline’s powers confirm these claims, and at least a dozen
there’s anything wrong with a good scheme, but vampires who origin myths follow them from continent to continent. It’s as if
make them the focus of the Requiem are missing the point the bloodline were a natural gravity the Daeva fall toward every
of being dead. The Decadents know tending the body is the few centuries — one that burns bright, then out. Only a handful
only worthwhile occupation, and with les arts licencieux, they of these elders still exist, and all claim their branch collapsed
take reign over sense memory, introducing beautiful pain and in a spectacular manner, whether from infighting or Kindred
terrible pleasure to the human body in pursuit of a far more intervention. Perhaps this is the ultimate expression of their
refined meal than blood alone can offer. egoism: If you’ve got to go, better take everyone with you.
But this isn’t just for sadism the sake of sadism. A Decadent
can squeeze more Vitae from her victims by flooding them with Why you want to be us
the very essence of life. Of course, most Kindred hear about With us, you can to turn their nerves into a Swarovski crystal
these practices and go straight to the trite — fuzzy handcuffs of sensation, salting the meat in ways no other Lick would dare
and spanky sex and bodice rippers — but the Duchagne didn’t to dream. Fair warning: You probably won’t make it. You’re not
get where they are tonight by settling for clichés. good enough yet, and maybe you’ll never be. But you don’t get
Take a trip with the tour guide. He brings his customers to all anywhere without trying, do you?
the places they won’t tell you about, the secret underbellies where
real history festers like a wound. You can almost feel the bullet Why you should fear us
hit your chest where the mafia don got whacked, and your breath
Ever had an itch you can’t scratch? Let’s be more specific:
grows short where the lovely heiress dropped herself in the river.
Did you ever have an itch you had to wrench your shoulder
Meet the insult comic. He defines your flaws in needle-sharp to reach? One that wouldn’t go away with a metric ton of
patter, and the resultant laughter tears through you like a chem- ointment or powder or heroin. One you couldn’t dent no
ical burn. Your flesh is rawer than a sunburn, but the balm is matter how deep you dug through the skin. Yeah. That sure
so soothing as he rips everyone else to pieces too. would suck.
Bloodline Origins
• In the time of the French Revolution, a noble of the Invictus burned for her
crimes. If any Lick deserved the flame, it was the Viscountess du Chagne.
Embraced in a time when feudalism was radical, she spent her Requiem
spreading misery for her own indulgence, torturing or exalting victims
depending on her whim. Her boudoir was a place of beautiful agonies,
and even her allies in the First Estate thought she got what was coming
to her. The Carthians called her not just a counterrevolutionary, but an
abomination, sentencing her to Hell by setting the flames on the Devil’s
behalf. Yet even the inferno couldn’t match her lust. Some say she rose
from the pyre and demanded the coals be made hotter, while others
swear claim an unwitting double took her place. Whatever the truth,
her brush with oblivion crystalized her philosophy, and she began a
spree of Embraces across France. Most Decadents tonight trace their
blood and name to the Viscountess, venerating her in the hope she’ll
never turn her debauched eye on them.
• Before Viscountess du Chagne ever pissed off the Revolution, other
Decadents ravaged their way through history. Their earliest antecedents
were Cyrenaics and Epicureans in Ancient Greece, forming mystery cults
to Dionysus, Pan, Zeus, and other oversexed gods. They were called Maenads
in those nights, and their few survivors claim they fell in one bloody frenzy.
So the story goes, they were the ones who devoured Orpheus, and drunk on
the blood of the perfect muse, they ripped themselves asunder for the sheer
pleasure of the act. A few of these Kindred still exist, along with Serpents
from other parts of the world with similar tales of decadence and destruc-
tion. Wherever the Bacchantes rise, a fall is sure to follow.
• The Duchagne aren’t a bloodline at all, just a perversion that draws Clan
Daeva ever closer to oblivion. Are they a disease? A curse? Evolution?
Whatever else they are, they’re right about being the ultimate expression
of their clan, but only in the sense that they’re a logical extreme. Every
time they reappear, they return more virulent, and this French brood
is especially resistant to destruction. For now. Some night, they
might just gobble up the entire Serpent clan, and if they do, their
inevitable destruction will spread through the All Night Society
like a forest fire, entire domains succumbing to paroxysms of
orgy and death. All Kindred will feel their destruction, and they
won’t be able to get enough of it.
Parent Clan: Daeva
Nicknames: Decadents, Bacchantes
Bloodline Bane (The Sybaritic Curse): It’s all so tiresome.
The Kiss, the Blood, the Beast — all of it. To feel alive,
Duchagne need something bracing to
wake their dead nerves, or otherwise
the Beast will find ways to gratify
itself. Unless a Decadent experiences
intense physical sensation as she feeds
(pain, pleasure, extremes of tempera-
Clan: Daeva
Bloodline: Duchagne New Devotions
Covenant: Ordo Dracul Les arts licencieux (“the licentious arts”) allow Duchagne
to provoke, dull, and magnify a victim’s response to stimuli,
Mask: Courtesan whether for agony or ecstasy. By overstimulating their herds in
Dirge: Competitor this way, Decadents can draw more Vitae from their victims.
Touchstones: When the club gets cooking, it’s the The Incite Devotion is the foundation of les arts licencieux, and
only thing that makes him feel alive (6); Jacques also must be purchased first.
Back before I got the bite, I was a sugar baby for this rich-ass The Cavaliers first emerged in the late 17th century as upper-
Serpent named Szyszka. Only Daeva I’d ever met who looked over class Kindred began to drop the pretenses of nobility and take
40. And then some. up the realities of private enterprise. Their founder, one Lady
Dude was lonely, and kinda alienated from all the sexy young Syska, was a woman ahead of her time in “commercial acumen.”
Licks around town, you know? So I did my thing with him for a few Her schemes, scams, and multiple choice identities are still cele-
years. Mostly, he just wanted someone to talk to about music, and brated among her childer, as is the vast fortune she left behind.
sweet, innocent me was a good listener. Learned a lot about the Some say she loved money so much it turned her mortal in the
industry, but hey, he got an earful about me in return. daylight, just to appreciate the luster of gold against warm skin.
Then one night, there’s a RE/MAX sign outside his pad. Place Like their founder, the Withered have never settled on a
looks like it’s been gutted. I was a lot braver in my blood doll days, name. In America, where most of their membership resides
so I broke in — i.e., used the key to backdoor he snuck me through so tonight, they’re Moretti or Rózsa, but the alias they hold dearest
the neighbors wouldn’t see. I searched every inch of the house, but is Erzsébet. Rumor had it Elizabeth Báthory was Lady Syska’s
all I found was a first pressing of Ziggy Stardust and a sticky note sire, a claim she made with a knowing wink when it suited her
with my name on the cover. need, but others claim the bloodline found its philosophy in
Long story short, a couple nights ago, I’m meeting this smoke show the countess’s awful deeds, taking her name in tribute. If a
producer from the First Estate. New in town, looking for connections. mere human can go that far to hold onto beauty and power,
Seems kind of familiar, but we’re vibing, and I’m working my angle, imagine what an immortal could do.
so I ignore it. Anyway, just as I’m about to make my pitch, he excuses However, on that point, there’s a catch. Few things in this
himself: “Nice to meet you… Monica.” Pregnant pause and all. life (or the like) come without a price tag, and they’re upfront
And like, I don’t tell anyone that name — present company about that. If you want a taste of humanity, you have to give
excluded. But I bet you’ve guessed what was on that sticky note. up some of what makes you inhuman. For the Erzsébet, that’s
forsaking the stasis of death for the frailty of time’s arrow. As
The Daeva are as close to mortals as vampires get, but one
the years past, a Cavalier ages, and only through torpor can
would be generous in calling them humane. At best, they’re sexy
she regain lost youth, or else her body wastes into something
losers, parasitic corpses pretending at life and lusting after those
even corpses call unholy. Other Daeva say they’re cursed, which
who possess true vitality. At worst, they aren’t aware of that fact.
the Cavaliers think is just about the stupidest thing you could
Of course, most vampires would agree that mimicry is just best
say about a vampire. Of course they’re cursed; they’re Kindred.
practices among predators. Yes, the kine are food, but the five
They’re cancer. But, there are so many expressions of cancer —
great covenants would’ve died in their cradles if there were no
melanomas and tumors and lesions. Why settle on one?
value in distracting the Beast with human interests.
The Withered blend in with the kine to exploit them better,
If a vampire could fake mortality long enough, say some
but their greed goes beyond capitalism, even if they appreciate
Serpents, maybe she could find a new form. Not a mask to place
its modes and means. Their revenue is novelty, and mortals
over her cadaver, but a spark in the soul she lost in the Embrace.
are the instruments of labor. They enhance their half-lives
The Erzsébet believe they’re as close. Blessed with a state of with every human experience they can lay their fangs on, but
Damnation that retains many of life’s pleasures, from fucking whether that’s for euphoria or tragedy is a matter of personal
to fine dining, they’re well aware they’re still dead — but maybe taste. They are the patron of the arts who locks their portraits
just a little less than the others. away so no one else can look upon them. She is the cuckquean
Bloodline Origins
• Lady Syska was well known for her business savvy. Allegedly of Magyar nobility, she
could triple your investment in a year or less, and since neither Kindred nor kine
would know the name Ponzi for another three centuries, she had little fear of
anyone catching on. Most of her marks couldn’t even pronounce her name, let
alone read all those Hungarian warrants. Still, a gift for the grift only gets you so
far, and when things fell apart, it necessitated a new identity. From Syska came
Rózsa, and from Rózsa came Moretti, and (in a fit of pique) Erzsébet. As her
confidence games burned through Kindred coffers, each name became a true
reset. Her greed was so great that it withered her flesh, yet when the jig was
up, her skin would soften as she melted into the night, a new sobriquet her
only possession. Eventually, these masks couldn’t save her from the Danse
Macabre, but by then she’d made a true investment with her childer.
• The night Elizabeth Báthory was meant for the Reaper, a being bearing the
visage of her long-dead husband attended her castle prison cell. It claimed
it could heal her mind of its perversions, but the Countess was long past any
human compassion or desire. She slit the thing’s throat with her blood-stained nails
for such insolence, and a spatter of what ran through its veins fell upon her tongue. So
sweet was the taste that she drank from the gash like a suckling babe, expiring in the awful
lust of the act. When she awoke in her family crypt, still heavy with his nectar, she was one
of the Kindred, young again and more beautiful than a thousand peasant girls’ hearts ever
made her. With a new face and a new name, she joined the All Night Society, but she still
watches out for her husband’s face in the crowd.
• Once upon a midnight darkly, a masque was held in colored halls. We danced and drank
the red, red wine, afeared of running out of time. A sickness lurked ’tween fans of lace,
yet every ribbon held in place. The lamps burned low, I lost your hand, as fiddlers madly
led the band. I searched the rooms, green, blue, and black, with countless sins weighed
on my back. Our host he hunts with sharpest teeth, his hood pulled low o’er grin
beneath. Look not in mirrored halls, my love, deny the tears on tattered palls.
The song plays on through graven laughter — corruptly ever after.
To smell something is to literally take a tiny bit of it into your- more favorable to a Gulikan after sampling her stock, more
self, adding a sliver of its substance to your own. In humans, this willing to listen to her suggestions in public, well, chalk it up
connection is fleeting. With our stunted noses and laughable to customer satisfaction.
sense of smell, all but the most obvious scents pass us by, barely The Perfumers are an organized and haughty family, with
perceived. But Kindred aren’t human. They can sense the scab high standards for who joins. The Old Masters who guide
where you cut yourself shaving from all the way down the block, the bloodline from their seat in Istanbul supposedly have
and they can follow its sweet aroma right to your door. If blood records of every Gulikan ever Embraced, as well as lists of
is life, then by taking in its scent, are you not capturing a per- their accomplishments. This regimented structure ensures
son’s very essence for yourself? The Gulikan certainly think so. Perfumers aren’t competing with each other in the same
All vampires excite at the coppery delight of blood, but the domains (with the notable exception of Istanbul itself), and
Perfumers relish it almost as much as the act of feeding. For them, guarantees the worthiest — read: most obedient — students
scent isn’t just truth — it’s the only truth. Originating out of the receive training in Ortam. This decadent tower has stood for
former Ottoman Empire, but now found all over the world, the centuries, though in recent nights, it’s started to show some
Gulikan aren’t just better at smelling blood than other Kindred; cracks along its base.
they can extract something essential from it, a special quality Objects created by Perfumers are notoriously beautiful,
only they can perceive. This ability to draw out blood’s true not only for the exquisite odors they produce, but for the
essence allows them to manipulate Vitae and infuse supernatural artistry of their presentation. The thing is, they don’t have to
qualities into perfumes, soaps, incense, candles, and more. A be. A candle infused with a Haunt’s blood will ward an area
Perfumer’s works are of exquisite beauty and quality, and turn with fear whether it’s delicately carved to resemble a pillar
an even more attractive profit. of weeping skulls or just a rough wax cylinder with a wick
Would you like to waltz into the VIP section of the club and stuck in the top. In short, as long as it’s functional, the form
instantly own it? Just a spritz of Serpent’s Enticement, and all makes no difference. Realizing this, many neonate Gulikan
the pretty people will be hanging off your every word. Tired of chafe under the Old Masters’ rules and restrictions, especially
not getting the respect you deserve? Authority for Lords will those Perfumers half-way across the globe from Turkey. Why
have mortals scrambling for the privilege of obeying your every should they have to pick up and move to a different domain
random whim. Sick of being pushed around? A dose of Haunt’s when they can compete by selling their wares at half the cost?
Spite will turn you from milquetoast to terror in an instant. More Why should their goods be exclusive to the already wealthy
than anything, the Gulikan bottle power and sell it at a premium. and powerful?
With such effectiveness and versatility behind them, the Like most elders, the Old Masters don’t appreciate being
Gulikan’s wares are always in demand. Of course, if other questioned, and their counter-arguments in favor of the tra-
Kindred realized the truth of these heavenly scents, there might ditional hierarchy have been rather pointed — lethally so, in
be a boycott. Vitae is the active ingredient for everything created most cases. Still, their reach can only extend so far, and while
by Ortam, and that Vitae is most often donated by the Perfumer they may dismiss these radical youths as nothing more than
herself. Every time you take a deep breath of the exquisite jas- common Peddlers, the movement is growing. Why buy from
mine-and-honeysuckle blend prepared by your local Gulikan, the master when you can get the apprentice to make the same
you’re also breathing in her blood. The Perfumers certainly thing for a song? Sure, it won’t make you weep blood tears
don’t advertise this little side-effect of their wares; they prefer with its ethereal beauty, but you’ll still be able to make rent
to keep their influence on their clients “subtle.” If a person is at the end of the month.
Mob lawyer hung from office window The Fashionistas are where style meets substance in the
All Night Society. From poisoning to strangulation, sniper’s
On Monday morning, a grisly scene greeted Seventh scope to pistol whip, they’ve mastered the assassin’s handbook,
Avenue at Main Street, where defense attorney Blake and they’re as chic as they are deadly. You’ll see them com-
Chilton’s remains were found on display at his former law ing because they want you to, in stiletto heels crafted from
actual stilettos and Protean-perfect feather coifs. The couture
firm. The cryptic phrase “BANG BANG” was emblazoned angle isn’t just aesthetics, though. They really are models and
in seven-foot-high letters on the building’s exterior windows designers, and they’re on the bleeding edge of fashion in a
on the 27th floor, in what the authorities have confirmed way few among the dead could ever hope to achieve. Some are
was Mr. Chilton’s own blood. Police would not comment even renowned beyond the Danse Macabre, voguing across
the edge of the Masquerade.
further on the message or its significance, and no firearm
Ironically, most Kindred don’t realize they’re anything but a
use was in evidence. Witnesses placed Mr. Chilton the bunch of fashionable Daeva, or that they’re a bloodline at all.
night before at La Verità Italian Cuisine in the fashionable For the Moda Mortale, covert means overt, using their “day
East End District around 7 p.m. He was last seen dining jobs” as cover to travel between high-end events that just hap-
pen to coincide with a nasty murder or two. Kindred or kine,
with an unidentified woman in her early- to mid-20s; she is
sire or childe, it’s all the same to these Widows, just so long as
considered a person of interest. the check clears. But you’re not just paying to solve a problem:
Over the past year, Mr. Chilton made a name for him- You’re paying for publicity. More than mere murderers, the
Moda Mortale operate the Cacophony like a sewing machine,
self after a legal career of relative obscurity, representing stitching in bloody messages the All Night Society can’t rip out.
high-profile clients with ties to organized crime, notably at An alderman dies in bed with his mistress, rose petals scat-
the controversial trial and subsequent acquittal of Sigismund tered around the bed; the Carthians cancel their plans for the
“Ziggy” Carmichael, an alleged capo of Arturo Sangiovanni. dockyard. A research scientist takes a bullet through the head,
but a knife defiles his corpse with the words Taking Note; the
This marks the third assassination of a high-profile criminal Kogaion flees town. A prominent occultist is crucified on the
attorney in as many months, and Metro PD is calling these eve of the summer solstice, on the highest skyscraper in the
homicides “professional.” The perpetrator or perpetrators’ city; the Mother’s Army declares war.
methods share little in common, aside from their theatricality, Are there easier ways to send a message? Sure, if you’ve got
no taste. But if you had a simple message, you wouldn’t come
with a daring, grotesque display at each crime scene. Police are
to the Moda Mortale. Each death is a two-pronged solution,
one that destroys whoever happens to be standing in the way
In the vicious world of Kindred politics, sometimes you of a client’s scheme and fosters an environment to further that
want a rival to disappear quietly — and sometimes, you want plan. All without a paper trail — not the bad kind, at any rate.
to send a message. For the latter, you need a killer with a The Widows ensure you always make the headlines. Sometimes
keen sense of style. Of panache. In other words, you need that means a little character assassination before the knives
the Moda Mortale. come out, destroying the victim’s social life in preparation for
You’ve heard about him since the night he moved into that Eventually, other Kindred took up arms against these Locusts,
ominous townhouse at the end of the street. People say strange fearful for their own herds. It was a costly war. The bloodline’s
sounds and lights come through the windows in the middle of the terrible fortitude wasn’t easily broken, and the conflict provided
night. The old folks cross themselves as they pass like its haunted, even more grist to weave into their tales. Some Kindred say each
and the jackoff teenage boys try to spook their girlfriends with tales Nelapsi bears two souls, their appetites only sated by feeding
of children going missing. both. Others believe they devour mortals whole and wield the
He takes your hand, bending down to give it a little kiss. It’s a strength of two men, with two hearts pumping in their chests.
bit dorky, but the charm radiates like a sunny day, and those ivory Still others whisper that their curse is so all-consuming that it
teeth shine with every inviting smile. They’re having a party later requires a pair of mortals to die for one Embrace.
tonight, he says. Come see what really goes down. Yet these stories weren’t enough to save them. In the end, the
How scary could it be? Nelapsi were scattered, manses burned to ash as their human
The Daeva know humans better than any Kindred, and the playthings were dragged away and made to forget. With the
Nelapsi know the most primal human want of all: hunger. A fall of the old guard came the diaspora, and a new ethos took
Glutton can wake starving even if she entered daysleep with a hold to prevent future purges. The new blood’s philosophy
bellyful of blood. Feeding grounds and herds are a painful point is restrained compared to that of their forebears, though its
of necessity for these Serpents, and the source of many a neonate’s adherents prefer to call it elegant.
downfall when she devours them all in one gory gulp. Even when Modern Nelapsi distance themselves from their herds but still
Vitae is free and plentiful, feeding is a careful balance between forge legends. They’re the friend-of-a-friend-of-an-acquaintance
the safety of moderation and the false promises of satisfaction. who can talk their way out of any situation, and they’ll do the
The Nelapsi didn’t always believe such control was necessary. same for you if you’ll meet them under the new moon. He’s
Once, they fed in whatever quantity they required, lording the party animal who knows every regular but never shares his
over private domains with only their childer for company. real name; if you learn it, you can summon him for one hell
The Gluttons of old ruled not as royalty, but ideas, medieval of a night. She’s Mephisto at the crossroads, offering wishes in
legends that infested every mortal unfortunate enough to hear exchange for a liter of your finest vintage.
their tales. These were not the Daeva of dreams and fantasy, Rather than estates and stables of mortal morsels, tonight
but greedy ghosts lairing in haunted castle keeps demanding a Nelapsi lets his myth do the heavy lifting. His herds are vast
tribute, or cunning demons awaiting supplicants in the low because the story he’s crafted for himself is more than the sum
places of the earth. Each folkloric mask was a way to hide in of its parts, and it keeps the All Night Society from ever realizing
plain sight at the top of the food chain. Even their name is the truth of the Locust flitting through its fields. A Glutton’s
just another guise, taken from a Slovakian beast that devoured reputation will always precede him — for good and for ill.
livestock and killed with a glare — though, given their appetites,
perhaps they gifted their name upon the monster. Why you want to be us
Cults to these nightmares once riddled Eastern Europe, from Even when we try to be quiet, we wind up being bigger than
Bohemia to the Black Sea, and the bloodline held dozens of life. Helps that we’re already dead. We can devour the world
hamlets as their personal buffets. Few approached; none dared entire if it suits us; the Danse Macabre is just a frenzied summer
leave. And every now and then, an offering would gain favor ball before the winter chill sets in. Join us, little grasshoppers,
as a Glutton’s clan curse gripped its soul, and its new childe for our larders are full and our herds are fat. We’ll make sure
would become yet another part of its mythos. the dancing never stops — greedily ever after.
Photos were insufficient to capture his beauty, or the grace with long enough, these time-trapped bodies transmute their blood
which he moved upon the dance floor. Yet the years peeled him back into a strange substance the Star-Crossed calls Electrum, after
in layers, reducing him to a rotten husk. Eventually, the neighbors the amber tears of the Heliades, who eternally mourned the
complained about the smell, and then the law came knocking. I death of their brother Phaëthon, child of the Sun. Some (most)
fought like a demon to prevent them from taking away what was left Custodians tap their Purities — oh so carefully — for this golden
of my love, but they buried him where I could never find him. sap, bestowing its gifts on any who would consume it. Many
In retrospect, I understand why my sire chose me, even if she came Kindred would pay a pretty price for a vial.
to regret it; I was halfway Star-Crossed already. Crossed in a few However, as much as they would wish it otherwise, nothing
ways, really. lasts forever. Sooner or later, a Custodian can’t keep up the
Even in the Requiem, all I really wanted was him. I took to the maintenance, or her Purity escapes, or she befouls him with
streets looking for someone I could mold into his image, but the nights her Vitae. Then, all that lost time catches up with a vengeance,
slid by in a rabid need that no amount of blood could slake. If I couldn’t reducing the poor mortal to a wasted corpse.
have him, I would sooner tear out my own eyes than look upon another. This loss pushes the Star-Crossed to self-destruction. The
So I did. Now I hunt by touch and sound alone, but I’ve man- loathing that consumes them is as low as their euphoric obses-
aged to find three facsimiles. It takes some getting used to, all their sion was high. Therefore, they find outlets for these emotional
weeping, but I just turn up the gramophone and wait for them — storms. Like Pygmalion, they craft their ideal in marble, or paint
some night — to take up my offer to dance. canvas after canvas to capture each coveted feature. Others
Ah, to love again. hunt for a replacement among humanity’s ranks, and while
they might never find a true doppelgänger, if the eyes are right
Eternity is empty without devotion. And yet, most Daeva
on one, and the mouth on another… the parts might all add
wile away their nights avoiding it, all for fear of getting caught
up to a perfect whole. For the Star-Crossed, solace can only be
on mortal lives the same way they slip hooks through their
found in the spaces between life and death, where corruption
victims. Not all Serpents are willing to give up on happily ever
halts and the night stands still.
after, but it’s the ever part that’s elusive. Their blood aches for
humanity, yet humanity is fragile. The flesh wanes; the mind
fades. Time is the enemy of perfection, and for every vampire Why you want to be us
who thinks she’s found true, eternal love, another is laying his You need not taint those you would pluck from Death’s
soulmate to rest for the third time this century. The Embrace greedy hands: We can show you how to make them into undying
is no solution. Death sours relationships and adds another angels. Forsake the fruitless lust of other Serpents; it leads to
predator to the pack. Ghouls? Slavery isn’t love, and addiction nothing but despair. Instead, we’ll cup your hands around the
is just another layer of removal. most precious embers, fan them to blazing brightness, and then
But the Star-Crossed aren’t content to give up on human you — and you alone — will have been witness to a moment of
affection; it’s the one thing in the Requiem they find worthy true perfection.
of possession or preservation. To keep their own despair at
bay, the Custodians entrap kine who embody qualities they
most admire or lust for, imprisoning them in bizarre time
Why you should fear us
loops so they can bask in a captive’s unchanging state. Night Why do you keep trying to leave? There’s nowhere on earth
after night they maintain this stasis, spending precious Vitae where our love won’t lead us back to you. We would never
to ensure their “Purities” remain uncorrupted. Kept pristine stoop to polluting you as thralls, or pass on our Damnation.
Emotion is weakness. It’s a honeytrap that lures you in then their state of detachment is superior, that doesn’t mean they
drowns you before you realize you’ve been caught. Other Daeva should be denied all feeling, all the time. Over the decades,
claim to have conquered their hearts, but they’re liars. They Xiao Jun Jie learned to experience emotions again by taking
may have discarded some of their softer feelings, but envy, spite, them from others, developing this practice into what the
and rage can betray you just as easily as love or compassion. Ascended call Kingjan. When a Parasite feeds, she can use
Only the Xiao are strong. Only the Xiao can wield emotion as Kingjan to drain her victim of feeling, lapping up fear and
a blade without being cut. And only they can teach you this joy along with the blood. Xiao savor these stolen emotions
strength; all you must do is submit. like a sommelier sipping rare vintages, or a chronic case expe-
The Xiao are also liars. It’s true their emotions are pale riencing a potent high. The feelings they steal allow them to
shadows compared to those of even other Kindred, but it’s briefly remember what it was to be human and experience raw
not a special technique or a twelve-step to a better you. The emotion again… until the effect wears off, and they return to
Parasites’ icy hearts are just a curse they market as a higher their usual coldness.
state of consciousness, Zen mindfulness, or whatever else gets This makes the Ascended hypocrites of the highest order,
people through the door on recruitment night. but most are content to let the free-flowing blood and money
The Parasites operate within the Sect, a predatory cult founded soothe over that little moral quandary. Most, but not all. Some
by Xiao Jun Jie, a Kindred con man who immigrated to California new Xiao, after they’ve paid their last dollar and been chosen
from China in the mid-19th century. Like many cults, the Sect for Ascension, are horrified at the true face of the Sect. They’re
preys on lonely, desperate, and burnt-out people, offering all disgusted by the lies and hedonism at the heart of this thing
manner of solutions to their woes. In the Sect’s case, they claim that was supposed to give their deaths purpose, and they break
the problem is emotion — too much of it. Let go of desire and away. Called Apostates by the rest of the bloodline, these inde-
disappointment, and one can live a contented life. Certainly the pendent Xiao are a varied bunch, finding their own way through
“Ascended” members who attend the cult’s free seminars seem their numb Requiems. Often loners, Apostates are ruthless
content. Vampires all, they radiant confidence and power, and by both nature and necessity, with a reputation for taking on
would love to see you again at the next meeting. All you have to tasks that even other Kindred balk at, their dull hearts making
do is sign up for the six-week course; don’t worry about the fine them inured to the wails of victims. Absent the resources of the
print, just fill in your credit card number right here… Sect, Apostates have invented their own techniques in order
The Sect’s upper membership is entirely Kindred, with access to survive, and they turn what should be their weakness into
to a variety of ways to twist the emotions of others. As such, the a hideous strength.
cult is hideously efficient at draining its lower ranks of time, Naturally, these two groups of Xiao despise each other, and
money, and life. Parasites keep up their helpful façade as long as when they meet, it almost always results in violence. It doesn’t
possible, offering housing in Sect-owned properties once their help that most other Kindred can’t tell them apart, which
members can no longer afford rent, and giving them work in the aggravates both Ascended and Apostates all the more.
cult when they can’t hold down a job anymore. The ultimate fate
of most human cultists is to become smiling, vacant-eyed blood Why you want to be us
dolls who are so emotionally and physically addicted to the lead- We’re always in control. Let others snivel about fairness and
ership that they barely remember the lives they’ve left behind. feelings; we don’t have time to listen. Justice is for people too
The Sect brings in both money and blood, but it also weak to take what they want, and emotion should never get
attracts another thing the Xiao desire: emotion. While most in the way of what’s important. Join us, and no one will ever
Parasites have drunk the Vitae Kool-Aid enough to believe hurt you again.
Last Night 65
“You just need a little help.” She pointed to a spot at the side of the road ahead of them. “Pull
over. Right up there.”
“By the trees?”
She leaned in for a breathy “Yes”
“Yes” in his ear, and her voice was like steam on his flesh. He did
as she asked and pulled to the side of the road. The car’s engine idled in the dark, its headlights
illuminating a gnarled old elm tree. Above them, the rain gently fell into its green canopy.
“You said you were good at making people like you.” She laid a hand on his thigh. “Make me like
you, Rob. Like you did at the club.”
Her eyes were bright and hungry in the dim light of the car. He’d seen and felt that look so many
times over the decades, but once again the vanilla and cherry overwhelmed him. His very blood
shivered, and he reached out to her with every drop of its allure, willing her to bend beneath the
weight of his supernatural presence, wanting nothing more than to drown her soul in his.
Her eyes shimmered and softened; she leaned in closer. “Yes. Like that. I do like you, Rob.”
“I like you too, Sadie…”
“You’re funny. And handsome. A real gentleman .” She unclicked her seatbelt and swung her leg
gentleman.”
over to straddle his lap, pressing her hand to his chest. Her skirt rode up as she leaned back against
the steering wheel. “I like gentlemen.”
Darcy tried to move, but the car was pressing their bodies too tightly together. “My place isn’t
far. Let’s go—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “You don’t always have to be in control.” She leaned in again.
“Let go for a while.”
With one hand, she unbuckled his belt and slid it clear of his pants.
“What are you doing…”
She snorted at that, then kissed him. Her mouth tasted of cranberry vodka and juniper.
Unprompted, his fangs threatened to descend; he bit into her lip gently, but when her moan turned
into a yelp, he knew he’d nicked her. She pulled back, a thin trail of blood painting her pink lips
crimson, and he felt the Beast rise alongside his arousal. He hadn’t been able to taste her before
she’d pulled back. Now he needed to.
But before he could, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his belt around the headrest.
She licked his lips, and he gasped as she pulled the belt taut. The leather slid between his teeth
like a gag as she looped it around in a knot. She clucked her tongue. “No biting.”
A shock ran through him. Does she know? He tried to wrestle his thoughts into alignment, but
each touch shattered them like a hammer on glass. Her hands slid down his chest, and with a quick
twist of her wrist, tore his shirt open.
She licked his ear. “Oops. Send me the bill.”
Whatever retort he’d intended to say through a mouthful of leather never left his throat, as her
hands traced down his stomach and onto his slacks. Her fingertips danced along the outline of his
cock, and he stiffened — without aid, to his amazement. The blush must have still—
She pulled him free of his pants. “Don’t worry. I’m in control.”
She shifted her weight and slid down on him, and as she did the rest of the world faded. She
pulled her dress down and, having denied the use of his mouth, drew his hands up to kneed her
Last Night 67
chapter two
Blowouts
I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties, there isn’t any privacy.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Parties are as much lifeblood to Daeva as Vitae. From the pomp and elegance of a ball, to the unhinged debauchery of a
bacchanal, to the down-and-out crowd patronizing the secret bar, Serpents know as many ways to get down as to feed. Social
gatherings aren’t just something Daeva do, but the clan has elevated this practice to an artform, thriving at the heart of parties
as both participants and hosts. They understand the intimate power of crowds in ways few Kindred or kine ever could.
This chapter delves into the importance of parties in the All Night Society in general and Clan Daeva in particular: their
politics, unspoken rules, and unifying power. You’ll also find a few historical Serpent celebrations, as well as different forms
and genres these gatherings can take. Parties also provide dividends for both their hosts and guests, and herein we offer a new
system for using social gatherings as a tool in the Danse Macabre.
The Ventrue
The worst thing about the Lords is that they think just
because they paid for the party, they’re the reason it’s remem-
bered. Classy? Occasionally. Ostentatious? Always. These events
are memorable because of who’s who and little else. Trust me,
by the end of the night, the host will be pretending he doesn’t
even remember your name, and frankly, you might not know
it either. Ventrue parties certainly leave a mark, but so does a
cattle brand, and I prefer some diversity in my kinks.
The problem with the Ventrue is that they’re almost good
at it. They’ve convinced themselves they understand how to
provide the best, but without ever asking their guests what
they actually like.
If nothing else, you can always depend on the Lords serv-
ing up an interesting array of hors d’oeuvres. Most Ventrue
provide a thoughtfully curated selection of human vintages,
either fresh from the body or in whatever thematic receptacle
fits the venue. Like everything else the clan does, the flex is
more important than the punch. Then again, there’s nothing
wrong with a little showboating now and then.
Family Reunions
And finally, us. We’re the best hosts, bar none. Here’s the
thing, though: To everyone else, there’s nothing better than
a Daeva party; to us, there’s nothing worse.
Oh, the event will go off magnificently, but there’s always
a cost, and it’s never what you expect going in. We Serpents
understand that when we host for the All Night Society, we’re
hosting for all of it. Look at each of the other clans and their
foibles, failures, and peculiar tastes; a successful soirée has to
incorporate key elements of each of these things in just the
right amount. It’s all about palette balance. Like making a
good Bloody Mary, it’s both about ingredients in proportion
and making them harmonize. And try making a cocktail with
ingredients like vampires.
But then, we’re not hosting for them. We Daeva are best at
what we do because every RSVP is a declaration of war. Every
dance floor is a battlefield, and every song is a dirge played
for yourself and your jealous kin. What’s better for a party
than a little family drama?
Merits
Merits interact with hurdles as they would any other action.
Status adds dice to Social rolls with relevant characters, had a good time, and any drama was at least entertaining. In
Professional Training confers the 9-again quality on asset addition to achieving the coterie’s overall goal and the Beats
Skills, and so forth. However, if a Merit is narratively relevant gained from resolving Tilts, each character earns a free dot
to an action or Skill, but its mechanics don’t translate into the to spend on a Social Merit related to their personal goal. In
Blowout system, treat it as a Specialty. addition, the characters increase their impression levels by a
step with vampires who attended the party. This doesn’t apply
Vampires Ruin Everything to characters with a hostile impression (due to being ejected
or manhandled during Social Tilt resolution, for example).
With teamwork, a coterie should have no problem taking
down Tilts and throwing a fabulous party. All it takes is a bit Exceptional Success: The coterie also resolved Cheap, Fast,
of trust and teamwork. Good Tilt. The Kindred will remember this party for decades
to come, and anyone the coterie was looking to impress or spite
And then all the Kindred in the room had a good laugh. won’t be able to ignore them any longer. As with a success, but
A coterie member may sit out a Tilt if she chooses, enjoying the next Social maneuvering action a character takes with an
the party or working on her own goal. If so, she refreshes attendee ignores the first two doors.
two Willpower. The rest of the group will be down a body Failure: The coterie didn’t resolve the required Tilts in time.
to deal with hurdles, but the scofflaw doesn’t gain a Beat for The party wasn’t bad, but the characters were too busy spinning
resolving the Tilt she begs off. However, the player might be plates to achieve their goals. Each character takes a Beat for the
recruited as an extra in the relevant scene (see “Handling the effort. If a party becomes impossible to succeed, they can still
Guestlist,” p. 87). attend to remaining Tilts for Beats.
A character doesn’t need to sit out for every single personal Dramatic Failure: The coterie somehow resolved none of
affair she wants to attend to. Finding a minute to pay respects their Tilts, or the players unanimously decided to downgrade
to an old mentor just out of torpor doesn’t count, but spending a normal failure. They’ll be talking about this one for years,
an hour arranging a secret blood doll exchange with the Ordo but not for the right reasons. In addition to any narrative con-
Dracul definitely does. sequence for screwing up this badly, each character loses a dot
of Kindred Status (or another Social Merit of the Storyteller’s
choice) and gains two Beats. Sanctity of Merits applies.
Stage Three: Aftermath
Finally, the Aftermath. This is where we tally up the score and
see how the party went. Who got a record deal? Who got laid? Example of Social Tilt Resolution
Who died? Like any other action, the characters can succeed, Sam is running a Blowout in his Vampire: The Requiem
exceptionally succeed, fail, or dramatically fail. chronicle for Roman, Jesse, and Mike. Mike is playing Vivian
Success: The coterie cleared all the required Tilts in time. Sharpe, Jesse is playing DeForest Moretti, and Roman is playing
The party went the way they intended, the gathered Kindred Daniel Teller, all of Clan Daeva.
Last Night 89
hanging clothes. She selected a button collar dress shirt that he recognized as an Armani from
last season, and yanked it free of the hanger without removing it from the rack; the hanger bent,
swung, and clattered onto the floor.
She sashayed to the ensuite wearing an innocent expression. “What?”
“That’s a $750 shirt!”
She called back as she closed the bathroom door, “But you’re not thinking about being sad any-
more, are you?”
She had him there.
Darcy shook his head in disbelief. It was amazing. She had known him for only a few hours; he
could be literally anyone — a murderer, a monster, or even something he wasn’t — but she didn’t
seem to care. He rubbed his eyes. He was acting like a lovesick puppy and knew it, but her presence
had a freeing quality that he couldn’t define. He knew it was ridiculous, but when she smiled at
him, he felt something he hadn’t in years.
He listened to the sound of the shower for a few sweet moments, then rose and smoothed the
wrinkles on the bedspread. Would she sleep over? It was a dangerous idea, should she wake up to
find him dead beside her, but invigorating all the same. Maybe she’d understand. Maybe he could
tell her. He glanced up at the skylight and felt an aching smile spread across his face. Maybe he
hadn’t been lying. Maybe the end could wait another night.
He felt a pull to join her in the shower, but tiredness flowed through his body. Not just tired-
ness — exhaustion, more than he could remember feeling in a long time. He listened to the sound
of running water for a moment more, then returned to his chair and flopped down. Glass broke
beneath his weight and he reflexively reached beneath his thigh. A sliver of pain slit the tip of his
thumb, and cold nausea followed close behind. He’d sat on the glass she dropped.
He stood and began to collect the shards from the chair, and he was almost done when he noticed
the blood. Bright red liquid gushed from the meat of his thumb. The cut was deep, a perfect crescent
that bisected his fingerprint and half the nail. He willed the wound to heal; nothing happened.
He focused harder.
Nothing.
He watched the edges of the wound tremble and pulse in time with a hastening thud in his
chest. He pressed his unmarred hand against his heart — it was still beating. He could feel it racing,
building with his anxiety, pumping blood through his long-dead circulatory system. Finally, the
stubborn flesh of his finger began to knit, leaving a perfect white scar over the wound.
As Darcy stared at the scar, and all but the far edges of his infatuation finally fell away. A pan-
icked anger flooded his thoughts. He scoured the room for anything that could explain what was
going on. Had he been drugged? Was it some voodoo brought down by the Acolytes because he’d
ignored all those calls from Lainey Hendrix? Had he been poisoned by some Invictus hack?
And then it hit him: Beau had bled. A lot. And just like this thumb, it had pulsed and pumped
out like a real wound. Darcy had survived enough rows with other Kindred to know vampires don’t
bleed like mortals: They ooze. Vitae only flows when it wants to, and even the blush didn’t spray
buckets over a dance floor. Or last all night. Or turn your dead flesh into paper.
His heart was pounding, and his lungs were starved for air. He stumbled back toward his bed,
all the while sucking in a series of shallow, desperate breaths that left him dizzy, which his heart
responded to by skyrocketing its pulse.
Last Night 91
Accessories People will stare.
Make it worth their while.
Harry Winston
When a Serpent sets her sights on a person, place, or thing, she pursues it with an intensity even other vampires find over-
whelming. The Daeva will never find satisfaction, no matter how hard they crave it, cursed to hunt for a fulfillment that ever
eludes them. Their connection to humanity is both a bulwark to cling to and a lure for the Beast to pull them down.
This chapter explores the tools and tricks Daeva have at their disposal to help take what they want. New Archetypes, Devotions
and Merits make sure they’re always a step ahead of the competition, and an examination of the Wanton Curse and its cravings
highlights why it’s just great to have a special someone in your Requiem. You’ll also find guidance on how to incorporate difficult
subjects into your chronicles, particularly ones that arise form Clan Daeva’s romantic milieu.
Provocateur
Provocateurs crave drama and create it when they
can’t find it on their own. They spread false rumors, lies,
or plant evidence for the joy of seeing what might happen next.
Single Willpower: Push a rumor you know to be false.
All Willpower: Ruin someone for the drama of it all.
Trendsetter
Trends appear and disappear almost instantaneously, and Trendsetters are the
ones who decide which catch on and which wither away.
Single Willpower: Start a new fashion.
All Willpower: Remold someone or something in your own image.
Devotions
In addition to new powers, the following section updates the Devotion found
on p. 118 of Kiss of the Succubus: Daeva, as well as powers from other First
Edition sources. Night Life (p. 35) is now an Erzsébet bloodline Devotion,
but other Daeva can learn it too.
All vampires can learn these Devotions, but they’re most often found
among Serpents, and the Storyteller might require a Daeva teacher as
a prerequisite.
As I Do
(Majesty •, Vigor ••)
Just because you’re the center of attention doesn’t mean you can’t
give a little back to your fans.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire must perform the same action (i.e., with
the same dice pool) that the subject is about to attempt.
Action: Reflexive
The vampire can activate this Devotion during any physical action. Doing
so grants a bonus equal to Blood Potency to anyone attempting the same action
in the scene on their next turn, provided they saw the vampire’s original action.
Drain
(Majesty •••, Vigor •••)
Echoing the foul art of diablerie, this Devotion allows a
vampire to drink not only a vessel’s blood, but a portion of
his essence.
This Devotion costs 3 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Willpower
Requirement: The vampire must be feeding on the
victim.
Dice Pool: Manipulation + Empathy + Majesty vs. Composure +
Blood Potency
Action: Contested; resistance is reflexive
Duration: Scene
Roll Results
Success: The vampire reduces the victim’s Social Attributes by one dot
for each Vitae taken, to a maximum of her own Majesty dots. Attributes
cannot be reduced below one. Reducing Composure does not remove
Willpower points, but it does reduce the victim’s maximum capacity
for the duration. The vampire also gains one of the drained dots for
the scene, but she may only possess one stolen dot at a time regardless
of how many individuals she’s drained.
Exceptional Success: The effect lasts the night.
Failure: The vampire isn’t strong enough drain the victim’s essence.
Dramatic Failure: The victim’s soul turns the tables on the vam-
pire. He gains the point of Willpower spent to activate this Devotion
and the vampire gains the Distracted Condition.
Haymaker
(Vigor ••••)
It’s not always about knocking them down; sometimes, it’s
about knocking them away.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 2 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire must have successfully attacked
the victim with a Strength + Brawl action.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Reflexive
The vampire hits her opponent with such intense concus-
sive force that he goes flying. For each success on the attack
Success: The vampire puts a rumor out into the world about
her victim, whether for good or for ill. For the duration, the sub- Enticing, Advanced (••)
ject gains a dot of the Fame Merit or the Notoriety Condition Prerequisite: Enticing
(Chronicles of Darkness, p. 290), depending on the context. Effect: Being a vampire is hot. You know it, they know it. Hot
Anyone who gets a good look at the victim will know who they doesn’t always equal sexy, but at base it means you’re desired
are and what they did. more than anyone else in the room. Once per chapter, take a
Exceptional Success: The effect lasts for weeks instead of Beat whenever you invoke the Seductive Beast on anyone with
nights. a blood bond to another vampire.
Failure: Who? Drawback: When lashing out with the Competitive or
Dramatic Failure: A nasty rumor forms about the vampire Monstrous Beast, any failure becomes a dramatic failure.
herself, which lasts for the duration above. She gains the
Notoriety Condition. Fake It till You Make It (••)
Prerequisites: Braggart •, Subterfuge ••
Merits Effect: As long as you look like you know what you’re doing,
Alongside new Merits, the following section updates those no one’s the wiser. Once per chapter, when your character
starting on p. 115 of Kiss of the Succubus: Daeva, as well as other makes a mundane Social roll that calls for a specific Social Skill,
First Edition sources. Some have been renamed due to similarly they can substitute their dots in Subterfuge instead.
titled effects in Vampire: The Requiem Second Edition. Drawback: If the action fails, it counts as a dramatic failure,
as everyone realizes how full of shit your character is.
Braggart (• or ••)
Prerequisites: Manipulation •••, Persuasion •• Friends Abroad (• to •••••)
Effect: Your character talks a big game — who cares if he Prerequisite: Cacophony Savvy •
doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about and couldn’t Effect: Cannibal gossip chains have provided your character
deliver if his life depended on it? At one dot, if your character with a bird’s eye view of the All Night Society. Treat each dot of
has a good impression in terms of Social maneuvering, he this Merit as a Contact in another domain, even in a different
gains the 9-again quality on any Subterfuge roll to convince a country. If your character visits one of these cities, she can use
stranger of his credibility, regardless of his actual bona fides. the effect of Cacophony Savvy.
At two dots, he gains the 8-again quality. Drawback: Vampires really don’t trust interloping predators.
The Daeva collect detractors like some people carve notches in their bedposts, and for many Serpents, a lengthy block list
is just one more status symbol. Yet the clan would never claim to be invulnerable; leave that talk to the Lords. A Daeva knows
her frailties all too well, and balancing her dirty secrets with a bigger-than-death persona is half the challenge of her Requiem.
Who then holds the key to Clan Daeva’s hope chest? What follows are a few choice candidates.
her soon thereafter, but it did offer a word of advice: Birch creation to spend on Physical Merits. In addition, due to their
doesn’t rest. Now 31 (and barely looking a day past 20 thanks regnant’s spurning of his clan Discipline, few Brigmans know
to her ghoul heritage), Margery has little left but cancerous hate any Majesty. Instead, they gain access to Dominate.
for her family’s captor. Knowing the Bishop’s knack for mortal Drawback: Despite their purpose, the Brigmans are deeply
technology, she’s had to exist off the grid, surviving in ways she alienated from the rest of humanity — all the better to prevent
never could’ve conceived in her privileged upbringing. She’s its taint from setting in. As such, they get clingy. Whenever a
been training for the night she lets Birch find her, homebrew- Brigman shares a significant interaction with a normal human,
ing all kinds of “gifts” for her return. Then she’ll give him the she must roll Integrity. On a failure, she gains the Dependent
fight he always wanted. Condition toward him for the rest of the week.
Nickname: The Elect (only among themselves) Stereotypes:
Touchstone: The family’s ancestral home, one of the last • Daeva: Perfection must be earned.
remaining Gilded Age mansions in Chicago. • Gangrel: On the other hand, depravity comes easy.
Benefit: The Black Bishop has spent decades molding • Mekhet: What’s anything multiplied by zero? Just so.
his Elect into Godly beings, and while his plan is far from
• Nosferatu: You’re sure we aren’t better than them?
complete, he’s produced some interesting specimens in the
meantime. Brigmans gain three additional dots at character • Ventrue: Perfection can sometimes be approximated.
But… what if I’m no hero? It might hurt you if you got to know me.
You are watching a child play pretend. about damning their messengers even as they let them guide
He sits in the cushy leather couch with his shirt half open, as pale the masses to the light. The Gospel from a sinner’s mouth is
skin glimmers in club light. In some half-forgotten memory, you think still the Gospel, and a reprobate is far easier for a vampire to
of the sounds of preschool where you played grocers and cowboys control than a saint.
and pirates. He plays vampire. He portrays a tragic victim who’s lost Perhaps that was the problem. As successful Histrions
nothing. He mimics dangerous, looking over his shoulder for effect. lived it up in the lap of luxury, they began to resemble their
He’s an adult who can run home and cry to mommy when the dead masters, and not just figuratively. The more they were
world gets too scary. rewarded, the paler their skin became, and the more depraved
But you like him. Despite it all, you like this idiot child. their decadent tastes. They say imitation is the sincerest form
Children are, after all, innocent. And innocence is one of the of flattery, and if so, these ghouls were exemplary sycophants.
many things you can’t afford to indulge anymore. Eventually, little difference remained between the monsters
and their servants.
As new toys flock to him for his eerie pallor and stunning-
yet- conventional looks, he gets hooked on the power, just like he The name of the first assassinated Histrion is lost, but later
got hooked to the Blood. It makes it more real, you tell him. And written accounts claim it was an ignoble end. During the
anyway, being so beautiful comes with a price. He believed you, too. final performance of a shockingly sexual production of Ordo
Your innocent, idiot child believed you. Virtutum, an audience member stormed the stage and gutted the
player portraying Chastity. The assailant proclaimed he’d slain
And some night, when the stake skewers his heart and blood
an agent of Hell and urged the crowd to cleanse the remaining
sprays from his chest, he’ll believe you’re trying to save him as you
taint. A riot ensued.
sink your teeth into the hunter he’s helped you lure out.
This was not to be an isolated incident. The Serpents behind
He’ll die loving mommy.
this endeavor became laughingstocks, myopic fools who’d
created a bunch of narcissists in their own image. The project
was dead.
Where we came from However, an actor can never leave the stage until the curtain
The Histrions emerged in Rome’s wake, as the Lancea et call. As more of these ghouls fell to violent “fans,” the Serpents
Sanctum’s Traditions became Kindred law. For Christianity saw a brand new angle. Maybe their Shepherds couldn’t make
to outlast the Empire, it needed exemplars, and if the Twelve anyone keep the faith, but they sure could provide cover. After
Apostles couldn’t do it, propaganda would work in a pinch. all, the difference between a real vampire and a patsy who’s
The first Histrions (literally, “actors”) were drawn from circus groomed to act like one is academic to the man with the stake.
troupes and other entertainers, selected for their talents in Eventually, these Daeva would turn their blunder into an asset,
holding a crowd’s attention. With morality plays and other and even tonight, the Histrions play on. They just don’t realize
didactic theater, the dead Church would show the kine how who their real audience is.
to live up to Christ’s standards, then “quiz” them on their
piety. The regnants of these ghouls were mostly Daeva, ones
who understood the dividends of high production values even Who we are tonight
when it comes to faith. They also recognized that their illiterate Histrions are designer ghouls, bespoke insurance policies
flocks couldn’t be tested if they didn’t know the rules, and so for paranoid corpses. Modern Shepherds are ethereal beauties
the Histrions went about making them crystal clear. with melancholic, pale complexions, subtly guided into filling
Those Shepherds who brought the most souls to the all the various stereotypes pop culture has bestowed on the
Lord were blessed with Vitae and power. Actors were often living dead. Some Patsies are even altered physically, made
viewed as beyond redemption in these times — little better to look similar to their regnants or otherwise enhanced to
than whores and thieves — so the Sanctified had few qualms fit certain aesthetic markers. Not understanding the Kindred
running. Now the thirst’s calling to her, and she’ll need to their heartbeats, enjoying a +3 on any Expression, Persuasion, or
find a new source of that special blood. Except now, the thirst Subterfuge rolls to convince uninitiated mortals (intentionally
will be on her terms. or not) that they’re “vampires.”
Nicknames: Patsies, Players, Shepherds (among the Lancea Drawback: Patsies take a –5 modifier on all rolls to detect
et Sanctum) lies from anyone acting in a position of direct authority over
Touchstone: Human attachments are the first things to go them, and any failures count as dramatic failures.
when Patsies join the All Night Society. Instead of a Touchstone, Stereotypes:
a Histrion gains the equivalent of a Mask, albeit while still retain- • Daeva: How close we are, yet so far. Imagine what we could
ing her human Vice and Virtue. This Anchor doesn’t provide a do with that kind of power…
bonus to breaking points, but neither can it detach.
• Gangrel: He keeps calling me “bait.” What does that mean?
Benefit: The Histrions exude a natural receptiveness, making
them alluring as lovers, confidants, and decoys. All Players gain • Mekhet: He who increases knowledge increases sorrow.
Striking Looks 1 (or an Experience if they already have it) and • Nosferatu: What lonely souls they must be.
begin play with an extra Discipline dot in Majesty. In addition,
they lose a touch of color in their skin and a bit of volume in • Ventrue: The Devil is often subtle.
Feeding • She gains heightened senses and increased might, agility, and
endurance. As long as the Afterglow lasts, she enjoys a bonus
Once a night, if a vampire spends more than a few minutes in
to all Perception rolls and Physical dice pools (see below).
skin-to-skin contact with an Ishtari, he temporarily loses a Blood
Potency dot, refreshes a spent Willpower, and gains the Half • She adds her permanent Afterglow to her Willpower score.
Dead Condition. If he has the Swooning Condition toward her, • She can reflexively heal two levels of bashing or one level
it resolves and becomes Dependent, which fades when he restores of lethal damage by spending a Willpower. In desperate
all Blood Potency; if he can avoid contact for a full 24 hours, dots situations, she can reflexively spend an Afterglow point to
start to return at a rate of one every (Humanity) nights. If further heal all wounds, including aggravated ones. She also doesn’t
trysts would reduce Blood Potency to zero, he instead gains the pass out when her Health track is full of bashing damage,
persistent form of Half Dead and refreshes all Willpower. though she will if it’s lethal.
Such connections rarely run one-way. When a Flower drains
a Blood Potency, her player can choose to accept the Swooning
Condition for a Beat, but only if she doesn’t have it toward the
vampire already.
A Flower can suppress her feeding effect until dawn, but it Effects of Permanent Afterglow
costs a Willpower to reactivate it. She cannot feed on vampires Perception/
in daysleep or torpor. Afterglow Physical Bonus Duration
1 1 1 month
HALF DEAD 2 2 1 month
(PERSISTENT) 3 2 2 months
Life stirs within you. Horrible, feeble life. Your heart beats, 4 3 2 months
your veins pump, and you bleed like a stuck pig. While this 5 3 3 months
Condition provides access to human autonomic functions,
similar to the blush of life, it’s much less pleasant and far more
Stage Two
VLAD The Storyteller’s roll gains your Blood Potency as a bonus
(PERSISTENT)
and can exceptionally succeed or dramatically fail. The effect
now applies to Blood Sympathy and Kindred Senses.
You suffer from a strange memetic disease known as Vampiric
Add the following results to those listed above:
Labile Abnormality Disorder. Whether psychological or phys-
iological in nature, it has caused you to lose control of your Exceptional Success: As with a success, and the affected trait
Kindred powers. This Condition progresses through three no longer functions for the rest of the night unless you spend
stages. Each time you suffer its effects, you can opt to move to a Willpower to kickstart it back into gear.
the next stage for a Beat. Otherwise, it progresses on its own Dramatic Failure: To dramatically fail this roll, declare that
if the Storyteller succeeds a number of rolls described below you choose to do so in the event that the Storyteller rolls a
exceeding (10 – Blood Potency). failure. If she does, the disease leaves you alone for the rest of
VLAD fades without resolving when you next enter and the night and the next. However, if the roll does succeed, it’s
complete a full period of torpor. If you resolve this Condition, an exceptional success.
you are permanently immune to it. Stage Three
Stage One The Storyteller now rolls at the beginning of each scene.
The Storyteller rolls a die when you rise for the night, keeping Furthermore, the disease also applies to healing, Physical
the result secret. At this stage, the results are simply pass or fail. Intensity, the blush of life, and the Kiss. Even your fangs betray
you, sometimes refusing to lower at all.
Success: At some point in the night, the effect of lashing out or
one of your Disciplines will go sideways in a glaring way. As such, Resolution: Accomplish an important task with the help of
the effect doesn’t work as intended, and all resources are wasted. your vampire powers. Lose a dot of Humanity. Therapy.
Failure: Everything’s fine! Beat: Suffer embarrassment due to your powers misfiring.
Darcy carefully folded the letter and set it next to the clock on his left hand nightstand. It was almost
ten already. He rose from the bed and made his way to the television. With a shaking hand, he pressed
Eject on the DVD player and removed the disk, Carmelita’s elegant handwriting scrawled across it:
To Robert
He took a deep breath and reflected on the last two decades, smiled, and snapped the disk in half.
Bits of it floated through the air like snowflakes, and he dropped the shards in the trash by the bed.
Over on the other nightstand, his phone blinked, revealing dozens of missed calls and texts.
It appeared the city was figuratively — and, perhaps, literally — on fire without its Herald to keep
things in order. It wasn’t time to mope, and it certainly wasn’t time to pick sides.
It was time to get to work.