Transylvania by Night

Welcome to the Journal
Transylvania by Night, part I

This is the chance for you, the players, to record you journal entries. Characters may not be able to read and right but don’t let that stop you, the players, from contributing.

I’ve taken the liberty of creating log pages for each character. Use it as you wish.

Three things to consider.

1) I tend to give extra XP for participation in this kind of thing.
2) This is a LONG time line chronicle and having a record of your “been there, done that” will be very useful to you, the players, and me as we start advancing in years.
3) This is largely your page by your request. I may not contribute much to it but I will make sure I review so your efforts are not wasted.

Malik's Arrival
Far from home and far away

Malik’s Journal
11 SHawwal 697

A curse upon my sire for forcing me to such a journey. Away from civilization now I find myself among these unwashed and filthy throwbacks. Do none of them bathe?

My sire had told me of his old alliances, with the Brujah, Lasombra, Gamgrel, Malkavian, and now I have borne witness to their next generation. For whatever traits he saw in his own allies, I do not see them here. But I do see something else, an opportunity. My sire has held me for too long under his thumb, and I mean to break free. Perhaps these new compatriots shall be of help there.

There are two defilers, still sweating from their exposure to the desert heat. One has mastered the language needed to speak to at least, so it is good to hear a civil tongue. (I must work on to learn the locals language while I labor.) The other carries herself a queen, but walks with a fighting stance. Both of them have borne witness to countless battles, and will make worthy allies.

The remaining three seem less capable but have potential. One is a sellsword I have determined – lacking of loyalty or grace. The next a soft of heart but strong of sword, and could be of use. The last is all which my papa warned me that the people of this land are, a foul and dirty, unkept and without even the ability for civility.

I recall the warning of Lazarus for those of us who would travel in this land. My own vision comes to mind – of seeing the necromancers from venice walking across a blood soaked crest of clan Cappadocian, while the shadow of a dragon fell over the whole scene rising from the east. While I am here, I am not going to utter which clan I am with, for Ashur would wish to bury me with my kinsmen in Kaymakli, and the wizards he now cavorts with are not to be trusted.

An army fights as one unit. This group I find myself with, we must too learn to fight as one unit. I see potential, something to encourage. A conspiracy, perhaps. Together, we may be strong enough to carve our own way in the world.

Just perhaps

Victor Gebhardt

A summons from my Sire! A chance to repay him for all he has given me. The travel was exciting. to awake in the evening and be that much farther from Rome. Ever since Vulf Embraced me and took me to Rome to learn. The studying, the sword training, learning of our hated enemy. Learning Latin has already been most helpful in allowing me to converse with the learned Bishop that has also been summoned by his sire. The others in our group confuse me, but I am not to question Vulf or his Allies. He has asked me to complete this task for his benefit and mine. That he feels I am ready for such an undertaking is very hearting. To ask this group to complete such a formidable task is not without its chance of failure. To build a small fortress on such a trade route could be a very difficult task, one that will require much from not only the Kindred it was tasked to, but the Kine we shall recruit. Giving the kine our blood, not only to ensure their loyalty but give them greater strength and endurance, should give us the advantage we need to accomplish our task in god time and good stead.

The Vampires here in Budapest are… Vexing. As are the Kine. Accosted by a knave who would DARE claim be a servant of the Prince and threaten to discredit our newly arrived group with said Prince would be enough to call a hunt in Rome! This Vampire must either not care for his unlife or this prince must not be as careful with his reputation as the Hated Ventrue of Rome. All over something as small as a slave woman. Little did I know how untrue that was. Once again the path of Chivalry has proven to be the choice of providence. To have such a wealth of knowledge pertaining to my Sire’s task literally run willingly into my arms. She will prove most useful. I shall seek to feed her my blood and ghoul her as my Sire taught me. Keeping her close and loyal will be far easier than trying to keep her by force alone.

Then to be set upon by a herd of what I can only assume are Religious followers of some Fae touched elderly man. He struck me as someone who may have a touch of Malkav’s curse. He claimed to know us and then set his followers to dispatch us. It was lucky for us his followers are not zealots, as the Bishop and I brought forth our steel they lost all interest in their command.

I feel I should describe my newly aquired companions. They are truly diverse.

The Bishop: At first I feared I would be dealing with one of the hated Ventrue, but his demeanor and a talent he displayed have assuaged my fears. I am not certain but I think his clan may be the Lasombra. Not much better than the Ventrue, but I will endeavor to work with him. He seems like a man of Battle. that at least is something I can respect.

Ramsey: He is obviously a sellsword. Money seems to be his driving motivation. He looks capable, but he seems less than reliable. Ready to turn at the mention at more money. We shall see if his Sire can direct him better than we have been able to so far…

Twopaws: One of the Gaels’ wildlings… She most certainly is one of Clan Gangrel. Her outward appearance belays the cunning that helped the Gaels expel the Romans from their Isle. She is near feral in her feeding, but her manner in asking for her Sire’s permission to feed denotes intelligence and some character that makes me think she will be a fine ally on this endeavor.

Malik: A Moor?! A sarrasin? And a woman?! Her unblinking stare was unnerving enough, when she removed her mask to reveal such a corpse-like visage. My blood chilled. I suspect that she is of the Cappadocians. Only the Bishop speaks her strange language. How he learned such a convoluted language I will never know, but I am glad for his cleverness.

Night has fallen. I know this because my eyes are open. My Sire warns me that as I get older this will happen before night falls and I should take care as the sun’s kiss is especially unkind to our Bloodline. I hear the sounds of 4 new horses, and 4 heart beats that do not belong to my escort nearby. In the distance guards, or perhaps tax collectors, are demanding an accounting of goods and wares. Exiting my wagon, I am instantly aware of which new members are like me: Their movements are too precise, eyes too sharp, movements almost too graceful. These details would go unnoticed among all but the most observant, or knowledgeable. The large Nordic, or perhaps Celt, is named Victor. I have seen his kind before: Large and well armed, I sense that he is used to using his size to intimidate, and only Time will tell if he is just a pure thug. One hopes not. I am guessing Bruja or Ventrue. The Saracen woman covered in clothing from head to toe I do not know what to make of. I have fought enough Saracens to know that they can hide an impressive amount of gear and weaponry inside those robes. The mercenary, and he is obviously a mercenary as none of his armor carries crest or symbol, has a odd light behind his eyes that is unsettling. God I pray thee that he is not one of the touched. Kindred are dangerous enough, adding arms, the knowledge to use them, and smothered in lunacy makes for a short lifespan. Hopefully not mine. The filthy girl hails from my homeland. The features underneath the layers of dirt are unmistakable. This can only be what my Sire has told me is a Gangrel. I mentally checked off what I am seeing: Unknown, Feral, ,Crazy, and looking for a fight. I have achieved a surprising amount with much less. I do believe I can work with this. Let us see what this night brings as we head off to meet our Sires and start repaying them for this amazing Gift they have given us.
Two Paw
Settling In
How Graverobbing can be lucrative

I have completed my survey of the fortress peak within which I make my home. After the Mongols, it seemed prudent to survey and locate any resources which could be of benefit. This fortress was built upon a former Roman castrum, a fortified camp in ancient times. Their gravesite gave much insight to the Romans and their military fortifications. It also yielded a cache of weapons which I was able to pass to the local smithies for study. The quality improvement in weapons has begun to generate a small amount of note among the kine rulers, precisely as hoped.

I may not know kindred politics, as us Infitiores have all but rejected it after the Feast of Folly – but kine politics are very familiar to me. These European concepts are simplistic compared to those of the Ayyubid, making the local nobility easy to control. A fancy sword, a special shield, all commissioned through my cities smithies, and these rulers are mine.

With the repulsion of the Mongol infidel, there is an uneasy peace. I am uneasy with this disquiet, for it feels as if we are in the middle of a sandstorm about to erupt. So far, my study of the library has failed to bear fruit, yet the more convinced I am that this library is key to understanding of the region. Fortresses built upon fortresses, designed in a web engineered to trap or release something at its heart, it cannot be happenstance. And the sand, it is shifting. Allies are critical. While Elvira is working on the heart of the Kindred, Victor protecting our western front, and the Bishop works his way through the church, I shall remain a vigilant watch on the kine. With such short lifespans, their plans are more direct, more brutal, than anything our kind can come up with. I hope that our thief can maintain our supply lines, in the off chance it also becomes our escape route should the worst happen.

I do turn my mind to my old home, among the camps, my own tent of my childhood. How alien this place is by comparison, yet now I feel more at home than I have since those days in the desert.

I wonder about the architect Zelios now and again. I must thank him again for his assistance in teaching me how to hide my disfigurement. Perhaps I can gain more insight as to this fortress circle which he is working to reinforce. I doubt that it now is for summoning, else it would have been summoned centuries prior. All of these ancient fortresses were placed here far prior to his appearance after all. A containment circle it must be. But containing what so powerful that it needs a circle on such a vast scale?

Lasarus’ work has taken several different tracts, one a focus upon the physicality of death, another the proximity of life, and lastly on the spirits beyond the veil. Our own abilities for this are a mixture of these, which is proving our own limits. His goal, to divide our capability, to specialize ourselves. I have fallen to task to be one of those to study the physicality of death, to push our own abilities on it to a new level. Others have already developed methods to create a proxy of life, and yet others have begun to make headway on the land of spirits, independent of Ashur’s pets, the Giovanni. If only I knew of a way to disrupt their work so they do not discover the secrets first.

Of course by specializing, each group will become as different from the Cappadocian as the Lamia are. If I uncover the secret of physicality, would that mean the birth of the Malicine? Another bloodline founded by a woman, an amusement for those who demean the feminine. The Blessed Mohammad did warn that pride was to hold man in contempt, so it is to pity and not to judge those unable to.

Musings of Malik's idle mind

River Journal Entry

Travelling to secure a Tremere, a traitor to traitors? How strange my death (for can you honestly call this life?) has become. A group of mages to seek immortality as the animated dead? How dreadfully delicious. The irony is lost on them. They sought to live forever, and instead became trapped in walking bags of flesh more dead than alive. And now they fight to remain in this limbo of death, never moving on.

First the Tremere betray their magical mortal bretheren, then they betray themselves. A delight to behold. How can they pretend like this?

These Tremere are almost as foolish as children. “Clan Tremere” indeed.

If the Tremere wanted power, they should have gone after Ashur not Saulot. Cappadocians are few in number after he trapped so many of us in the Feast of Folly. And few people would even blink if we were destroyed. Just another dead body to clean up. But destroy a unicorn, everyone notices. Tremere was so foolish. And here we are to meet one of his inner circle.

I swear that the older I get, the more like Lazarus I am becoming. It amuses me how a few human tribes now worship him as some spirit. I hear that kinsmen have spread throughout the dark continent now and taken up similar spirit deity names. I even hear that many of them look like me. Knowing I am not alone in my visible state of death makes it more tolerable, even enjoyable.

Pity the others who do not get to bear witness to their own state of decay. They just rot from the inside until there is nothing left but the shell.

But I am very curious and eager to meet this Goratrix, to see how much of what I have heard of Tremere is true, and how much is fable. Have they sprouted a third eye? Do they require the blood of virgin sacrifices? Are they all embodiments of unspoken horror? Of course not, they’re dead bodies like the rest of us! Just ones who have learned novel tricks, similar to Ashur’s new playthings the Giovanni.

The boatswain tells us that we are nearing our destination. Time to make myself presentable.


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