Power, like a desolating pestilence,
Pollutes whate'er it touches.
— Percy Bysshe Shelley, Queen Mab
Freedom? You babble to me of freedom? You, who dance to the strings of puppeteers so vile and so manipulative that you would destroy every symbol of your old existence at their slightest twitch? You, who scream and fight and brawl all night long, draining not only mortals but the mortal world until it has nothing left to give?
You deserve no freedom. You deserve only contempt. Where were you when we built this city? Where were you when we battled the Sabbat? Where were you when the nights promised nothing but treachery and blood? Freedom belongs to those who earned it. For you, the only freedom is death.
Chapter One: The Eternal Book
Is it possible to succeed without any act of betrayal?
— Jean Renoir, My Life and My Films
My Dearest Estranza:
What rare emotions tonight creates in me! One could almost believe that I was alive again. Later tonight I will lead you through this anniversary of your rebirth — the last anniversary under my care. You have already prepared your own havens; tomorrow they become your homes. You will always be welcome in this old country club of mine, but now I shan't have to listen to your obnoxious, incomprehensible "Butthole Surfers", while you in turn will not be "tortured" by the transcendent beauty of chamber music.
You know, I envy you in this endeavor. You've always expressed your amazement at the wealth I've accumulated and the power I've acquired. While both would have helped me immeasurably in the past, I must admit that the cliché about the getting being more enjoyable than the having is quite true. For the rest of eternity (Caine willing), I'll remember my battles against the Malkavian Sabado, which ended with me in control of Dobbs Industrial and him in the Dobbs blast furnace. Ordering about the current CEO is nothing in comparison to that strange and invigorating feud.
My dear, I never told you how close I came to the Final Death during those dangerous nights. The last fight against Sabado would have ended much differently had I not been able to call on the assistance of Jason Summers and his Scottish ghouls. It was they who monitored Sabado's ties to the Inquisition and managed to turn that organization against him.
I hadn't planned to turn this brief note into one of my "interminable and inane" lectures (yes, I overheard you talking to Carlos — perhaps I was a bit long-winded in criticizing your taste in vessels), but an interesting point has sprung to mind. You have no doubt heard me rail against certain members of our august clan. Lady Anne in particular has been a thorn in my side, what with her constant insistence on protocol and strict adherence to tradition. The fool would not recognize a business opportunity if it bit her on her skinny, pale… never mind. I find myself using your rude little colloquialisms far too often.
Despite any personal feelings for Lady Anne, however, were I given the choice of her aid or that of Bernhard (by the way, thanks to my actions that old chantry leader is now a Tremere lord, but that story merits an entire letter in itself), who shares many of my feelings and goals, I would not hesitate to choose Lady Anne. It has nothing to do with her position as Prince of London; it has nothing to do with the allies she would bring with her. It has everything to do with the fact that she is a Ventrue, and that is the only fact which matters.
I have told you about the ties that bind our clan, but you have never directly experienced this miracle. Our clan may well comprise the most desperate collection of conniving backstabbers one will ever find, but they are our conniving backstabbers. There is nothing in the world like the sensation of realizing that, even when the night is at its darkest and all seems lost, you would rally an army to your side with but a word.
Imagine yourself driven from your haven by Sabbat, forced to flee to terra incognita, and then hunted even there. This is exactly what happened to my own sire in the century preceding my Embrace. Trapped in Oslo, he pursued a rumor just as the Black Hand pursued him. With the evil sect's devilish murderers hot on his trail, he found the Boar's Tusk Inn and sought sanctuary within. The Boar's Tusk, as rumored, provided haven for three of our kind. They met your grandsire's pursuers on the field of battle. They never hesitated in their duty, though they knew that even should they prove victorious, the cost would be high indeed. Such was the case. All the combatants suffered grievous wounds. The Sabbat destroyed one of our clan that night, and another has yet to rise from torpor. Nonetheless, Clan Ventrue was victorious that night, and because of its members' sacrifice, you and I are now immortals.
Make no mistake — we may call all vampires Kindred, but only other Ventrue are of our kind. You have asked me many times why I chose you for the Embrace, and I have given you all the stock answers — the need for an assistant, your business acumen, your ability to persuade and maneuver others, my fear that you would have become stifled and withered under the influence of your chauvinistic, short-sighted boss — but one reason stood above all others, one reason I have never before told you. You were Ventrue years before I ever met you.
I have no questions about your loyalty. I have no doubts about your trustworthiness. I saw that side of you when I first encountered you at your bank. Despite your obvious dissatisfaction with your job, despite the fact that your superior had implied that very morning that the only way for you to advance in the company was horizontally, you fought my attempts to procure the information I needed. I wanted the business secrets you possessed, the clues that would show me why your financial conglomerate was so interested in my pharmaceutical investments. You resisted me for longer than I thought possible.
Despite the fact that the outcome was never in doubt, despite the fact that I could have used any of a million stratagems to obtain the information I wanted, you impressed me. It took me a long time to arrange your transferal to a division where I could keep a closer eye on you; it took me longer still to earn your trust. As I witnessed your integrity and character firsthand, I became more pleased with my choice — you were someone with whom I could happily share eternity, someone who could fulfill all the duties inherent to membership in Clan Ventrue.
Indeed, the longer I studied you the more sure I became of this fact. I watched you nightly, following your every movement. My ghouls videotaped you by day, and I viewed the tapes on those nights when I did not actually watch you in bed. You know that my taste in vessels runs toward those who consider themselves actors, just as you prefer those long-haired boys who call themselves musicians. Yes, I tend to become fixated on a few thespians at a time, but my feelings for you far surpassed what I feel for them.
When the night for your Embrace finally came, and I had ensured that no forces would turn the prince against you, I entered your cluttered condominium. I remember how you rose from your small bed, clad only in a cotton T-shirt, intent on defending your honor at all cost. The unease I felt at draining the blood of someone not an actor disappeared at that moment, and I knew you were destined to become my childe.
I remember watching in rapt fascination as you dressed at my command. You tried to fight my mesmerism throughout the limousine ride to my country club. You listened in disbelief as I told you about vampires and our clan, and your eyes grew wide as you realized that what I said was true. When I finally Embraced you in the garden behind the club, I took all your blood from you and then returned it. From that moment on you have been a Ventrue, body and soul.
I hope that some night you discover the great pleasure of creating your own childe, for only then will you understand how proud you have made me. You have aided me incomparably in both business and politics, and your ability to deal with anarchs has proved invaluable. I remember how you managed to convince Dirtman and his anarch gang to turn that Gangrel Diabolist over to us. I especially enjoyed that line of yours: "I know you can't trust us. It's just that you have even less reason to trust anyone else."
Ah, the poor anarch fools. For all their blustering, posing and whining, they understand neither what they fight nor what they fight for. They cry, "Freedom!" without knowing what freedom really is. They scream, "Oppression!" without realizing what oppression really means. When they demand freedom they are really calling for equality, something they in no way deserve. None of them could bear the burden of true freedom — even their secret allies in the Sabbat could not do that.
The truest form of freedom is not a liberation from the demands of some person or institution, be it the Camarilla, a clan or sire, but a freedom to do something, to accomplish one's fondest dreams. The members of our clan have striven for this, and occasionally we see some transcendental glimmer of this freedom. The more we create, the more we can create, and hopefully our efforts will ultimately complement one another.
Your anarch acquaintances seem to feel otherwise, for they maintain that freedom means keeping anyone from making them accomplish anything. So long as their Grail is a freedom from everything, they trap themselves in far stronger snares than we could ever weave. The less they accomplish, the less they can accomplish. They destroy their own potential in these senseless battles, for even when they win their coveted freedom (as they believe they have in Los Angeles), they squander the opportunity.
Instead of using their newfound license constructively, consolidating and strengthening the mortals and institutions around them, they continue to fight amongst themselves, each demanding that no one else hinder his own petty whims and vices. All the while they remain oblivious to the fact that the only way they can become completely free in this manner is by subjugating everyone else — a goal even the most power-hungry Ventrue would reject.
To address that subject: My dear, no matter what you may hear from that diverse little coterie you associate with, no Ventrue is bent on world domination. Also, no matter what similarities our kind may bear to the Tremere, we are not interested in raising our clan to global dominance. Even when we had the chance, during the Roman Empire, we did not do those things that would have allowed us the rule of the entire world. While I hardly have firsthand knowledge of that time, I know that we opened the Empire and Rome itself to all types of Kindred. Even Brujah found haven in the Eternal City, despite that clan's horror stories of ruined Carthage which they had created and we destroyed.
Our goal far supersedes mere dominion. Instead, our purpose is twofold. First, we strive to battle beings of incredible power who do seem intent on ruling the world. I have seen their hand at work, though I could not hope to tell you whose hand (or claw, or talon) it was. There are Secret Masters at work, Estranza, and their goals are even less altruistic than ours is perceived as being. They want all the beings of the world, immortal or mortal, Lupine o fey, at their beck and call. Should their plans succeed, we shall all become their pawns, with as much free will as termites. Why they want this I cannot tell you, for their true purposes are as unfathomable as those of the stars themselves.
I suspect that one or some of these Masters are vampires but that most of them are other types of beings. As you have no doubt already realized, we are not the only immortals in this universe. I have heard of mummies who die and are reborn, mages who quaff potions of vitality like we drink vitæ, Lupines who remember a time before the wolf had been domesticated, and even spirits which have flitted through the ether since the time of the first protozoa. I would fear any such beings, and fear twice as much the idea that there exist entities even more powerful than they.
In any case, combating them is but the first of our goals. We would be as negligent as the anarchs themselves if our only purpose was negative and our sole duty was to be an antithesis. Instead, we have a second, far more constructive role in this world. We Ventrue enjoy a gift that mortals (and vampires) cannot imagine. While mortals, mortal institutions and even mortal societies are doomed to disappear and eventually be forgotten, we live on forever. There are Ventrue who remember the Second City — I have met one. No doubt at least one exists who remembers the First City.
I don't mention this merely to impress you. Far more impressive is what the continuing line of Ventrue symbolizes. There is another hand at work on this planet, my dear. It is far more subtle and far more concealed than that of the Secret Masters. It operates far in the background where no mortal could hope to perceive it, but it is there nonetheless. I've heard many names for it — Caine, the Universal Subconscious, Gaia, God, and others — but none of these does it justice.
What has transpired on this planet is not the work of a few great individuals. It is the unfolding work of history, the continuing evolution of all sentient beings. It is tradition, destiny, custom and convention. Just as a child cannot understand the rules of her parents, neither can an individual hope to comprehend the course of civilization. Anarchs, too blind even to understand the rules of the Camarilla, have not a prayer of understanding the ebb and flow of time, yet this tide embodies the heart of immortality.
Estranza, it is our immortality that defines us more than any other aspect of our nature, be it vampirism, our Disciplines, our wealth or even the Beast itself. As immortals we can see the great Truth — that we are merely a part of something far greater. We are an important part, but still only a part. We are eternity's guardians. We exist to do all that is within our power to see that this evolution continues. We have seen much, but there is far more to be seen. Should the Secret Masters have their way, all will be lost to stagnation and entropy. Should we succeed, however, our reward will be…?
Oh well, I see that I have written for far longer than I intended. Carlos is calling me to say that my suit has been laid out and that I need to hurry it I am not to be late to your Embrace Night festivities. Please accept the following documents among your Embrace Night gifts. Some of them came from my own sire; others have come into my possession by chance, exchange or even outright theft. You will receive the rest of your presents at the party tonight in the Ritz-Carlton ballroom. That Jaguar and long-haired driver you found in front of the country club tonight are but the least of them.
Your Loving Sire,
Friedrich von Weber
Chapter Two: The Distinguished History of Clan Ventrue
Indeed, history is nothing more than a tableau of crimes and misfortunes.
Voltaire, L'Ingénu
We Ventrue have never believed the maxim that history is written by the victors. After all, if that were true, why are there so many versions of the same stories? Instead, Ventrue who argue this point believe that history has been written either by the survivors or, more likely, by the losers, for there have never been any winners.
Most of us accept what follows as the most valid story we know, but are willing to accept that our own myths and legends may be nothing more than well-constructed lies. Still, until we hear otherwise, these are the facts we will espouse. After all, these are the facts that make us feel good.
The First Nights
Yes, my dear friend, it has always been so. Our founder, the first of what have come to be called the Antediluvians, has always assumed responsibility for the actions of his weaker brethren, just as we do tonight. Sired on Caine's orders by the one whom legend has named Enoch or Lamech, Ventrue became Caine's first advisor and constant companion.
He sat at Caine's side as Caine oversaw the growth of the paradise known as the First City. Originally a place of mud houses and open fires, it grew into a monument to all that the Kindred can accomplish. Without the benefit of modern machinery, the First City soon boasted marble towers spiring to the heavens. Caine's own palace shone with gold, and the beauty of his main courtyard has never been paralleled.
The finest craftspersons of that ancient age created artworks the likes of which this planet has never again seen — simple but glorious, reflecting the unchecked promise and hope of that time. Caine himself turned the garden into a crowning masterpiece, using both magic and skill to evoke his own vision of penultimate beauty. To walk in the garden was to walk in paradise.
Still, our sire realized that all was not as it should be. After Caine's childer began siring the rest of the Third Generation, Ventrue saw lines of worry begin to crease Caine's unchanging face. Our founder beseeched Caine to speak of his fears, but at first Caine would not respond. Then the First Immortal spoke as though entranced. There, sitting amid the towering monuments of the First City, Caine revealed his dream of the future, wherein horror and catastrophe beset the world. Floods and earthquakes, volcanoes and disease would all strike.
Ventrue found it impossible to believe these stories, but Caine continued. His own childer would survive, but the mortals would be devastated by the destruction. Then they would seek someone to blame, and the childer of Seth would hunt the childer of Caine, using powers of fire and faith to drive us from our havens and destroy us one by one until all the immortals were no more.
Then Caine fell silent, and Ventrue sat stunned until he gathered the courage to ask his question. Then he hesitatingly asked his grandsire that which we all fear — "Is this future engraved in stone, unchanging and unchangeable?"
Caine looked out over everything he had created and quietly replied, "I do not know."
Sharing Caine's view of the gleaming vista that was Enoch, our clan founder could not believe that such a horror could occur. All his existence he had known nothing but peace and prosperity in a land where mortal and immortal lived without conflict. Had such words been spoken by anyone but Caine himself, our ancestor Ventrue would have dismissed them out of hand. Spoken by the Father of All, however, they tore at his soul, and he wished he could claw his ears from his head rather than hear of such horror.
Caine continued. He told our ancestor that we were not the only supernatural beings on this planet. He spoke of beastmen and deadmen, sorcerers and fey — beings with whom the undead would wage terrible, eternal war. And waiting in the shadows beyond these beings are far more powerful masters, and these masters cannot coexist. For all their power, these masters are afraid — afraid of each other and of those forces that even the masters cannot comprehend.
These masters see the undead as threats, for we were capable of surviving outside of their wars. We could work with humans as none of them could. Where the beastmen could only subjugate humanity, where the sorcerers must always live apart from their fellows, where the dead and faeries could be nothing but alien beings, we were as much a part of the mortals' world as were the sun and the moon.
When Ventrue was again alone, he could do nothing but ponder these words. When his beautiful lovers came to him, he sent them away. When the artisans who decorated his palace sought to show him their latest works, he ordered them out of his presence. Alone he sat, spending night after night in contemplation of Caine's words.
Finally, after three weeks and two nights, he left his palace with a new determination. From that night on he would do everything in his power to keep this tragedy from occurring. Should it occur despite his best efforts, he would strive with all his might to lessen the damage. He would see to it that one night mortal and immortal threw off the shackles of the masters and freed themselves for all eternity.
The Jyhad
Of course, one cannot say that our clan founder did not contribute in some way to the devastation which destroyed the First City. He began to gather those tools that might help him combat the masters, and the other Antediluvians took note. Ventrue's magnificent palace, once a museum for the most beautiful art, a building where every inch had been meticulously constructed in as awe-inspiring a style as possible, became a fortress. Here Ventrue gathered items of power, both natural and artificial.
Such relics as the Tapestry of Blood, the head of Medusa, the claws of Fenris, the Faerie Bridge and Oromazus' Mist littered the palace. To safeguard them, Ventrue used his awesome ingenuity to design an underground sanctum that no creature could penetrate. All this his Kindred saw, and they worried.
One night, when the moon filled the sky with silver, four of Ventrue's brethren approached the palace. "Ventrue," cried out she who is now called Brujah, "why have you taken those items that should belong to us all and hidden them away?"
"My dear sister," Ventrue replied, "I but protect them from those who would steal them from us all. When the time has come, we shall all use these tools to recreate the world."
"Ventrue," cried out he who is now called Set, "you should share those items with all of us so that we might use them as we will."
"My dear brother," Ventrue replied, "if I did so, they would be wasted and lost, and when we need them we shall not have them. When the time has come, we shall all use these tools to recreate the world."
"Ventrue," cried out he who is now called Tzimisce, "you spend all your time alone or with Caine. Are you trying to turn our Grandsire against us?"
Now our sire saw the true motive behind their visit. Jealousy had begun to fester in their hearts, and Ventrue saw it as a sign that the masters had begun to work their evil magic. Maybe if Ventrue had lowered himself then, begging and pleading with the four, he could have averted the holocaust to come. But he was Ventrue, first among the Third Generation, and debase himself to his younger brothers and sisters he would not do.
"My dear brother," Ventrue replied, "I do what I do for the good of us all. When the time has come, we shall all use these tools to recreate the world."
He turned to the one who is now called Nosferatu, expecting the questions to continue, but Nosferatu merely smiled. Then the four departed, though Ventrue knew things could never again be as they had been. From that night on Ventrue prepared himself for war with his own kind, all the while hoping they would become his allies once again but knowing that this meeting had hastened the end.
The Deluge
When the infamous flood struck, and Caine separated himself from his childer, our founder was the last to look upon him. "Father of All," he sobbed, "will you not stay with us? Without you, we will have no one to lead us. Without you, there will be no one to resolve the petty conflicts and calm the angered souls. Without you, the Kindred can do naught but fall to war amongst themselves. Without you, all hope of defeating the masters is lost."
Mighty Caine looked at Ventrue and, for the first time in ages, smiled. We may never know the exact words the First Immortal spoke unto our ancestor, but we do know that when Ventrue returned to his Kindred, he was the only one prepared to direct the rebuilding that was required. He supervised all the Kindred, even his own sire, during the creation of the Second City, and even though he knew that it would fall some night, he devoted all his energies to it.
Here he hid the mightiest artifacts that he had rescued from the First City. Here he buried a clay pot filled with the Vitæ of Caine. Even when the city fell, and Ventrue was forced to flee, he knew these treasures would be safe, ready to be used by all the Kindred when the time is right. Some say this is why the Nosferatu delve beneath the earth — they still seek these relics of antiquity.
The Vast Migration
After the fall of the Second City (and we all know why that happened), vampires spread across the planet. A few headed north into the vast forests. A few more went south into the deep jungles. But most stayed near the civilized lands, moving east and west into the river valleys and along the coastline.
Vampires visited all ancient races of humanity, but some civilizations benefited from exceptional levels of Cainite involvement in their affairs. These included such lands as the island empire of Crete, the lands of Assyria, the cities of Sumer and, of course, the kingdoms of Egypt. During the earliest nights we Ventrue were active in all these lands, but not in the same leadership roles we fill today.
In those years we allowed other Kindred to take the vanguard while we followed a more reserved approach. Like the early Christians, we believed that the day of reckoning was near. Caine would return to lead us in battle against the Secret Masters, and from that night and henceforth, Earth would again be a paradise. We saw our tasks to be recording and preserving, keeping Caine's dream alive until he could return to fulfill it.
Of course, some Ventrue became involved in the politics of the "ancient" world. By the time of the Persian Empire, we were immersed as deeply as anyone. Not until the time of the Roman Republic, however, did we take our place at the forefront of vampiric culture.
Ea Adapa
THE SECRET MASTERS
Many Ventrue firmly believe that powerful forces manipulate the world for their own sinister purposes. The Antediluvians are a part of this near-omnipotent coterie, but they compose only a fraction of the whole. Ventrue know that some powerful mages have existed for centuries, and those Kindred with more extensive occult backgrounds have heard of incredibly powerful spirits who manipulate werewolves, other spirits and mortals.
Ventrue have used many names to describe these Masters. Starets, Incarna, Occultae Reginae, Ourani, Gigantes, Daevas and other appellations have been applied to them, but the Ventrue have used the term "Secret Masters" since the late 1700. While the Ventrue can only speculate why the Secret Masters do what they do, and cannot point to any concrete proof of their existence, they have enough circumstantial evidence to satisfy themselves. They see mighty beings acting in inexplicable ways, doing things for reasons they cannot fathom, and begin looking for the puppeteers.
For instance, recent events in Chicago have drawn the Ventrue like moths to a flame. Supernatural battles involving vampires of all types, werewolves, spirits and mages have caused incredible upheaval in that city. Nobody knows just who was responsible for what, though accusatory fingers point everywhere. While these sorts of conspiracy theories may seem paranoid, this Ventrue belief does not stem from one single incident. Instead, the Ventrue can point to similar inexplicable events throughout history.
RAREFIED TASTES
All vampires know of the Ventrue feeding restrictions. Many find them constant sources of amusement. "Have you heard about Abraham the Ventrue? He can only feed on his female third cousins while in a Lincoln Town Car parked on the railroad tracks — and all his relatives died during the French Revolution." The Ventrue, however, take pride in their exclusivity.
Many like to point to these limits as symbolic of the clan's rarefied tastes. Any vampire can go around draining the bums down by the wharf. As the Ventrue see it, they seek out those worthy enough to donate their blood. Other Ventrue believe their feeding habits developed as a safety mechanism. Because the Ventrue keep a close watch on their herds, they can be sure that the blood is untainted by disease, magic or the blood of others. No Ventrue will admit that these restrictions are a curse or handicap.
Some astute observers believe the restrictions originate much deeper in the Ventrue psyche. These amateur psychologists note the Ventrue passions for both martyrdom and control. They see Ventrue feeding habits as outward manifestations of these conflicting drives and symbols of the clan's repressed lusts. By focusing their feeding on specific groups, the Ventrue not only get the satisfaction of feeling as though they are selflessly depriving themselves, but they get to focus their obsessions on one select group.
Whatever the case, there is little doubt that the effects are psychological, though they date back to the clan's earliest nights. No matter what the situation, Ventrue will not drink the vitae of mortals other than their chosen type. Indeed, they will reflexively refuse to swallow if such is force-fed to them. Ventrue can drink from any other vampire, and they can overcome their limits to drain a deserving mortal for the Embrace. Additionally, a given Ventrue's specific weakness can change over time, though Storytellers should only allow this as a result of extreme changes in the character's personality, such as higher or lower Humanity or a dramatically different Nature.
Rome and Carthage
Ventrue vampires arrived with the Etruscans who conquered the Italian peninsula in the eighth century B. C. According to legend, 13 vampires, led by the Ventrue Tinia, controlled the Etruscans. While Tinia lay in torpor, her own childe led a revolution that overthrew the Etruscan rulers of Rome. This childe, Collat, eventually reached a compromise with his sire and became the ruler of Rome.
Collat and his sire do not appear in further myths, though a reference to a beautiful Etruscan vampire who met her death in Asia Minor does bear a resemblance to Tinia. The renowned Ventrue Camilla became the leading vampire in Rome and remained the most prominent Ventrue in the world until the time of Nero.
For centuries, Camilla's main opponents in the city were mages, not other vampires. Camilla worked extremely hard to bar other clans from the city, and as the Roman Republic spread, so did our clan's influence. By the third century B. C., we controlled most of Italy, and Camilla stood out as the most influential of us all.
Two centuries earlier, members of the Brujah clan had taken control of Carthage, but we had little problem with that. Over time, however, they became more and more conspicuous. While the Masquerade had yet to be created, most vampires willingly followed the First Tradition. In Carthage, however, the Brujah walked the streets as lords, and all knew their real nature. Toreador flaunted their powers regularly, and the most blatant built temples where they accepted child sacrifices while the parents looked on.
Had these depredations been limited to Carthage, they might have safely been ignored, but the Brujah became bolder with each passing year. They conquered all the land surrounding the city, enslaving the native Africans and deploying their ghouls to do battle across the Mediterranean. To culminate their crimes, they promoted the study of blood magic to such an extent that no vampire anywhere felt safe. They made pacts with our own enemies in Rome, the fabled Order of Mercury, and dealt with demons to such an extent that even tonight vampires fear to visit that corner of Tunisia. Just walking on its soil causes the most horrible fits of Rötschreck one can imagine.
Had we ignored the Brujah's atrocities, Caine alone knows what sort of backlash Carthage would have created. What unholy alliance of mortals, werewolves and mages might have risen to fight it? Of course, once done with Carthage, this alliance would have turned against all Kindred. While most Ventrue were unwilling to take action, the noble Camilla saw a new destiny for our clan.
He quietly began to gather support among those Ventrue directly threatened by Carthage. When he had enlisted their aid, he made his proposal for all vampires to hear. Stressing the danger posed by the Carthaginian vampires, he called for an alliance of clans to destroy the city. Amazingly enough, the first clan to respond was Clan Malkavian, whose members were then fighting the armies of Carthage in Sicily. Camilla sent them aid, and the war began.
For more than a century the Kindred of the Western world fought. At first the Ventrue and Malkavians stood alone against the Brujah and their myriad allies. As the years passed, however, more and more Kindred began to see what would happen should the Brujah win. As a further enticement, Camilla opened first Italy and then Rome itself to other clans, and they began to flock to our side. First the Lasombra, then the Cappadocians (now called the Giovanni), and then others joined our cause.
Still, not until we had brought the Toreador to our side with a show of force (the conquest of Greece) and a sign of appeasement (allowing them to move to Rome) did we have the strength to destroy Carthage. The Brujah fought with all the tricks and evil magics they had, and many of us met the Final Death in this final conflict. The fiercest and deadliest battles occurred in the hidden, bloodstained temples where the Brujah held their sacrifices.
In these massive monuments to cruelty, Roman soldiers, their ghoul leaders and Ventrue masters fought the Brujah room by room, inch by inch. Even the artwork the Brujah had forced their mortal subjects to create for them became weapons, and more than one Ventrue was slain after being trapped beneath golden statues. With their last blood the Brujah cursed the city, saying that from that night on whoever ruled Carthage would meet a bloody end. In response (and to make sure that all the devil-worshipping Brujah were destroyed), we set fire to the city and watched it burn for 17 nights. Then, with the aid of our own sorcerous allies, we salted the earth, ensuring that the Kindred in torpor there would never rise again.
A NEW COURSE
Not only did the destruction of Carthage chart a new destiny for mortals, but it set our clan irrevocably on the track it has followed ever since. No longer could we sit back and watch as our Kindred wrought havoc upon the world. Even in that distant age, people and events had become too intertwined, too dependent on one another for us to let a horror like Carthage reappear.
Camilla had unwittingly furthered this process...
Piotras5