- this may be of interest to you- let me know what further action may need to be taken:
Letter recovered in a pile of ashes, by Scourge Anthony Piper, January 5, 2001. Victim was apparently a bystander of a particularly vicious block sweep, and must have been caught in the ensuing destruction of a building on the 115th Block of Lexington Street. All personal items belonging to said (assumedly) Kindred victim have been sorted and catalogued and accompany this package, as well. Currently held in the archives of the Red Thorn Chantry, Los Angeles, CA. All notes in parentheses are editor's notes, appended by yours truly.
My sweet darling, I hope this letter finds you well. I have figured you may wish to know of your early life and perhaps appreciate an explanation of how you came to be where you are, as I imagine by now some pretty miraculous things have happened to you, and you may not understand or recognize the special nature of your new gifts.
As you know, I am a very unusual person, a creature of the night. Many names have been ascribed to us, Monster, Nosferatu (though this is a misnomer), Kindred, Vampire. You, of course, realize the array of things I am capable of, as you have witnessed more than one occasion of their application to save both of our lives. It would have remained a mystery for the remainder of your days how I accomplished these feats if events had not developed like they did.
(Note the deliberate violation of the First tradition, Regent- whoever this writer is has obviously decided her unlife is not worth preserving.)
As I said, my beloved son, I am not simply a caster of magick, some wielder of forces beyond human comprehension. Though those do exist, and you have even met one, I am not such a thing, Skeeter. The details are, for now unnecessary, as to even put the information in your mind endangers you more than the considerable danger you now find yourself in. (This would infer that our erstwhile adversary is well apprised of the capabilities of Auspex- perhaps our subject is, as well.) It anguishes me to be apart from you, as I desire nothing more in this universe than to be by your side, watching you grow in your power and knowledge and to tell you the stories of days long past, give the gift of experience. Alas, these things are yet not to be, though in future nights I am assured the time will come for us to be together. In an effort to be complete I will start our story from the beginning, so that any gaps in understanding you might have, clouded by the years of pursuit, death, and destruction, might be made clear.
(There are few hints of note in the following passages, however, we have managed to glean a bit more from the remains of the victim. A full report is forthcoming. I would suggest perhaps a visit to the Giovanni be in order.)
You, my sparkling gem of a son, were born Darren Michael Palmer on the fourteenth day of August, nineteen hundred and eighty one. It was a miracle of sorts, or a happy curse, that you were ever brought into existence. I am one of the last generations, a Kindred of the lowest and weakest order, and before your coming, I would have been thought of as a anomaly myself, weak blooded, impotent, and incapable of anything but the most basic vampiric functions. I suppose at this point a short biography of me might be in order, to explain how I came to be where I am, and how you came to be at all.
(There are no traceable birth records for a Darren Michael Palmer on August 14, 1981 that coincide with the facts presented. Either the writer has given the subject a proper set of alternate identity documents, the records are hidden for various reasons, or it is false and meant to mislead. We are narrowing the options as we speak.)
My life before the embrace isn't really important, As it gives clues to our enemies that they need not have so simply, but at the time of my own change, I was a freshman at a prestigious college, the location of which shall remain untold, in case this missive should find others' hands than yours, but a suitable college for a fair, young lady to attend, no less.
(The writer obviously is a vary sort, we should advise any seachers to do so carefully, perhaps with retainers instead of on their own recognizance.)
A low level Kindred of the Clan of the Pyramid embraced me in 1980. Who are they, you might ask? Good question, but our enemy will be revealed in latter passages, read on, my child, all will be made clear in it's own turn. In any case, this low level novitiate chose to create his own progeny without permission of his elders in order to perform basic assistance and research tasks, as well as serve as a short term research subject until I became no longer of any use in the issue. I assume I was to complete the project I was assisting and subject of, and then probably be consumed before any others even knew of my existence. My sire's Clan tended to work that way, though they'd never admit such things to anyone living or dead, even themselves.
To make a long story short, something went wrong. I was a marvelous subject, but my sire himself was of what the elders of our kind would call weak blood, and so in turn his days were numbered in his own Clan. Though his studies were productive and very insightful, I would even say interesting if they did not require so many nights of torment and anguish, he could not produce a suitable result for his elders. Perhaps simply there was some paranoia about the dark days they provided insight into, perhaps he crossed the path wrongly one of his own, perhaps even he revealed secrets that others of our kind that other did not want known. The truth even I shall never know, but I do know this. He was slain, destroyed, and his notes with him. Fortunately, my sire was meticulous about his secrets, and I remained as such luckily enough until I had time to gather a few things and escape.
(This is unlikely, if not impossible, considering the sheer amount of deception and magical skill it would require to defy a Regent's awareness of such activities. However, we are querying the various Regencies of the North American Region to see if perhaps these circumstances meet an event any of the various Regents are willing to admit to. Of course, to do so would bring heavy scrutiny upon them, I would suggest a more personal and subtle interrogation of the facts.)
No such things stay a secret forever, and by methods I will never quite know, his elders discovered my existence. I, of course, knew my fate if caught by these undead hunters, so I ran. Again, I won't go into excruciating detail about where I went and what I did, save to say for the better part of a year I lived life far under the radar of even the most deep underground Kindred, among the vermin and outcasts, learning self-reliance and survival skills that have kept me whole and healthy to this night.
(An addendum to the interest of this letter. The writer has intimated that she may have knowledge of several thin-blood cells and connection to the entire network. This in and of itself is of enormous value and may be worthy of a full-scale investigation.)
In June of 1980 I met your father, a fine man, hardworking dockworker who simply wanted to live a good life and be the best person he could. His sheer lust for life and simple outlook swept me away instantly, and we fell deeply in love. Of course, my nature proved an interesting obstacle, and the litany of lies and deceptions I maintained to keep your father's love will remain secret to this day, as I do not wish you to think any less of me than you already may. However, after a few months, and a particularly close call with our erstwhile hunters, I had to tell him the truth of things. I gave him the gift of blood, and we became eternal partners in what we thought would be an unending adventure, an epic chase with a glorious happy ending. Of course, this was simply not meant to be. In any case, quite by surprise, the one thing happened that no one anywhere even would have imagined possible- I became pregnant in November of that same year. Your conception was at the time, simply impossibility, you see, we Kindred cannot birth children, we are dead as corpses inside, or at least this is what I was told. Obviously you were exception to this very die-hard rule, and our life would change radically as a result.
You see, any such thing as you can only be one of two things to a Kindred- an anomaly worthy of intense and probably deadly scrutiny, or a scourge, abomination, to be destroyed for reasons I cannot even begin to explain. Either result was unacceptable to us. So, we ran again. You were born the following year, and for the living soul inside me I would love to tell the story, as it was quite an amazing incident, but again, too many clues or our persistent pursuers would not be very wise.
(This event must be a conjecture, a confused mottling of true events. The nature of the woman's confusion would seem to border on insanity, but if the claim be true it would collaborate other incidences whispered about in the halls of many a Chantry. Could the rumors be true?)
As well, I cannot detail the long years before this, as the slightest hint of the networks in which I operated would endanger hundreds like me, a growing mass of desperate hunted rejects, awaiting a day of salvation that may never come.
Your father, God bless his fine, bright soul, died for us, Darren. He was destroyed, not destroyed; killed- mortals are killed, when he attempted to set of a makeshift gasoline bomb to delay a group of particularly persistent pursuers. He was an excellent man, knowledgeable in a great many things, and if I had given him a twinkling of the wonders of Celerity, he might still be here tonight. In any case, they proved faster than he, and he chose the option of taking all of them to eternity with him, rather than to be captured and forced to reveal our location. That sacrifice weighs heavily on my soul, and one night I will sit you down and regale you with stories of his brilliance until the dawn, only to do the same for many nights after that. He was the brightest of all the nighttime stars, Skeeter, and a memory in my mind forever.
(No Regencies report the death of any of their apprentices in this fashion. If indeed this man did such a thing, one would think it would have been duly noted and reported. This may indicate that there are events occurring which some sundry Chantry is not adhering to the Code in reporting, yet another reason to root out the validity of this entire letter.)
At this point the burning question must be- "who are these people that hunt us?"
They are an ancient old cabal of spellcasters named the Tremere. I can't say that they are evil, per se, simply efficient and coldly logical, and we, my son, do not fit into their vision of what the night should be. They have a million ways to hunt us, find us, track us down, and they are devious and quite unswerving in their mission. There is a whole history to these people, Darren, but as you've figured out, I can't really go into details about them, other than to say that you should avoid them at any cost, lest they discover your true nature and find you.
(This would seem to be the voice of a former insider, however.)
As you know, I left you to the care of M. so that you might be in good hands when the change comes. You are half of me, and half your father, and thus have powers and abilities far beyond what he could ever accomplish, but some of the more tender human qualities I would have wished him to give to our son. I could see the beginnings of the Beast stirring in you even in those nights. We must be apart as in some way they have locked on to me, and I can move faster alone. Besides, I have to decipher how they have pinned me, and how to get out from under it. However, I have some things to say that will help you survive the night alone, and must give you a few hints of warning:
(The victim held no identification or indication that he was anyone named 'M', nor is there any evidence that this is the person intended in this passage. Again, the Giovanni could be illuminating.)
To most of the world, you are human. Be human. Do human things. Disappear among the throngs of everyday people and live a quiet life, out of public eyes. You already seem to know when one of us is present, so use that to your advantage. Avoid us, and above all things, remember that everyone around you is prey for one of us. Don't be so used to being a sheep that you get eaten by a wolf.
Always listen to M. He is more knowledgeable than both of us, as well as much more potent. Never trust anything or anyone that doesn't breathe. Anyone, except M. Those that do breathe you may trust as you like, but never with your true secrets. There are those of them that hate us more than even the Tremere, and they endanger not only you, but also all of my kind.
Listen more than you speak, you know little and must learn much.
If ever you get lost, or M is too distant to find, go to our old home that we lived in when you were little. You know where that is. Go to where I taught you how to ride your bike, and look under the big rock there. There are some things for you I'd like you to have. Then fade away, be human, and blend with those who are unnoticed, out of the proverbial loop.
Always keep your phone number and address listed. I can find you that way almost anywhere I am. Yes, the Tremere could as well, but if they are resorting to such mundane methods to find you, they're already too close for you to do anything about anyways.
(This advice, while very useful, also serves our purposes. It gives us a Modus Operandi for which our subject may be operating under. He will not, for example, probably be found in the higher mortal power echelons wherever he is, or lead a career that would shine unduly amounts of light upon him.)
That's it for now, little Skeeter. I hope to send you a postcard soon, check in on you. Be sure that no matter where you are, I will always be beside you in spirit, and one day, when this hounding has ended, we will live a glorious life together.
(At this point, I would be inclined to note that we have several factors that make it possibly important that we find this person and her reader:
may be a Chantry out there doing things in a most unorthodox fashion,
including embracing thin-bloods, allowing rather uncouth forms of experimentation,
and allowing the death of our brothers without duly recognizing their
passing. If these are a sample of this organizations' actions, there
cannot be any more pressing issue than to discover and correct this
If you have any questions, I serve at your discretion and will be putting this high in my priority list until you have other orders. -Apprentice Barrington)