The Last Pillar: It's their world, not ours.

Regardless of what you might think, you have power. You are capable of things that no mortal man is capable of. Your nightly decisions change lives and destinies. There are vampires more powerful than you, but there are some that are less.

But there is one thing that you must never forget.  You are but one drop in a great big ocean. It doesn't matter how old or puissant you happen to be. In the end, everyone loses the numbers game to human beings. And just like humans, we all have to take our rest.

When you forget this basic thing, you endanger yourself. You endanger your community. and you endanger the humans.  If you forget the basic thing, honestly you won't care about the humans...But that way lies wassail...and you may not want to go that route.

Oh sure, you can get powerful and your influence can be deep and pervasive. and you can own multi-national corporations and you can have powerful humans tremble in fear....

But you will never not get hungry.
You will never know an existence that is free of fear.
It's unlikely you'll ever master your beast completely.
You will never get a good all-over tan.

There are limits. There are boundaries. You cross them at your peril. You flout them and you will pay the price.

Maybe the Sanctified have it right, maybe we are part of a plan. and maybe we ARE supposed to operate from the shadows. But one thing is for certain, unless we mean to mass embrace and TAKE this world from them, it's going to stay theirs.

And what will we drink then?

More than the humans, we need to maintain a balance with the world around us. More than the humans we need to protect the world and the environment. Both from our depredations and theirs. We have to protect the human race from our weakness, from our rage, even from the ignorance and docility, we'd have from them.

There may come a day when some of them become like us. And believe me, I tremble thinking of such people becoming vampires.  I am a Journalist, which is a kind synonym for "Asshole" or "Felon"  I am a drug abuser. Many people suspect that I have already cracked like a piñata and spilled my candy on the ground.

And yet, some night down the line, my felicity of expression and my ability to manage abstract thought might mark me as an aristocrat among the undead. I don't mind being the smartest guy in the room. But I would have a hard time with the being the smartest guy in EVERY room.

I don't have trouble with any plan which involves turning a particular city into a kindred utopia. But by definition, such a utopia must be one for the humans TOO.

In the short run, you can always fuck over the humans.
But in the long run. You will always pay a higher price than you expected.

Always.

Into the Mailbag!

Dear fuckface:

Who in the sky-fucking hell do you think you are? You aren't a Carthian any more. What makes you think you can dictate some kind of platform to us?

-No love
(Didn't sign his name. Quel Surprise)

Me. I'm nobody. I'm just some guy. I used to write books about stuff that I thought maybe the Carthians ought to know about.  I was a fan of helping fellow Carthians get an education. A vast number of fellow Carthians gave zero fucks about any of my efforts.  The only people who seemed to be actively upset about what I was doing were the Invictus. So what does that tell you?
In any case, the only thing you need to know about who the fuck I am, is, that I am the guy that was ASKED. A guy who has read my work, reached out to me, asked me questions that he'd been turning over in HIS brain-pan, and got me thinking along the same lines.  I'm the guy who cared enough to share what he'd thought up based on his own experience. I am not some dude walking down from the mountain with the clay tablets of the LAW in his mitts. As I mentioned from the outset chimpy, No one can change the Movement by himself. He can only change himself and hope to inspire others by example.

BTW: I should mention that I receive this exact same email from members of the OD who wonder why I'm wasting my time on this. I should mention that the language is a good deal more formal.

PS: I will say, no one does invective like my former covenant. "Sky-Fucking" is brilliant and I will look for ways to use it in future. So, thank you for that.

Dear Mr Berkowitz:
Why Pillars? Why so many?What's the point of living a moral and ethical existence as a vampire?
Nina

Pillars, because we need something to help hold us up.
So many pillars, because we're vampires and we need special help.

That last question though...
That's the good one.

Morals and ethics are necessary. More necessary than people think they are. Ethics enables you to govern your behavior so that you can live with other people. Morals enables you to govern your behavior so that you can live with yourself.  Some vampires aren't convinced that they need to govern either one. ALL of those vampires inevitably end up destroyed either by us, or by the humans.  But usually, not without committing some viscera-curdling atrocity or otherwise jam-fucking the commonweal first.
Remember kids. It's THEIR world. not ours.  In fact, I may have to make a pillar out of that. Vampires who forget that cause all manner of problems, and eventually, all those chickens come home to roost.

The Eighth Pillar: Ritual and Tradition are only as full you make them.

Symbols have power. 

Words, said in the right way and at the right time have power. 

Music has power. 

Poetry has power.  

These things move the heart and if you do not move the heart, nothing will flow.  The mind can be afire with a new idea or a vision of the world to come, and yet, if the heart is not moved, that fire will fade like dreams on waking.

Understand: We have an entire lobe of our brain that is tasked with and dedicated to, making up crazy shit. If you cannot harness it’s power you become a prisoner in a cage of your own making.

The Sanctified get this.  The Crone get this. Even some of the Ordo Dracul get this.  

Ritual has a place in our unlives.  It can fill certain needs and connect us to our history and our traditions.

Yes. Traditions. I said it.  and I didn’t even say it like i’d say, “Crabgrass” or “Herpes” or “Scientologists”.   Traditions have a place in our society, until they don’t anymore.

See. The problem is, that ritual and traditions are only as meaningful or as important as we make them. When the world changes on us, there is that tendency to hang on to the old ways because they are comfortable and familiar. Because they may still mean something to us.

But if we don’t communicate WHY they are meaningful to us, and why they are still relevant to the next generation, then we have no call to castigate them for not feeling the same things WE feel.  We can go through the motions, but without meaning and context and connection, traditions become dead. 

So. I don’t get excited when I meet carthians who don’t give a fuck about the Chain. Maybe it wasn’t explained to them. Maybe it wasn’t important to them. Maybe they never got the memo. All of these things are possible in a largely rudder-less society.

So if nobody ever explained it to you, Let me help out:

The Chain is an opportunity.

You will meet many Carthians over the course of your unlife. No two are alike, except for those weirdoes who go in for that whole mind-meld shit.  When you run the chain two things are happening. Introductions, to be sure, usually a listing of skills and abilities, services that one is willing to put at the disposal of one’s brothers and sisters. So your rolodex...do people even still USE rolodexes?   In any case, you get to find out what people are good at, and advertise your own expertise a bit.  This is important, ritual or no.

But the other thing that is going on, is a willingness to share who we are by saying what we are looking to do. The ability to stand, look one another in the eye and share your plans, the merest tip of the iceberg of your hearts desire, differentiates us from every other covenant out there.  We are unique in this regard. 

Sure. there is always the danger that another vampire might use your goals against you. Happened to me.  But would I trade security for honesty?

I don’t know as I would. 

And the reason for that is that occasionally my words, my plans, my goals, my oratory, my understanding has inspired others. Inspired them to follow their own path, or inspired them to follow mine.  And I know, that there have been times when the fiery passion or quiet wisdom of another has inspired me.

Put no faith in a ritual that does not stir your heart. But look for ways to stir that heart, ritual or no.

The Seventh Pillar: Choice is Power

Occasionally. Back in the old days when I was still a Carthian myself, I’d occasionally get asked by well-meaning Invictus and Ordo Dracul, why I would waste my time and talent on the Carthian Movement. 

Even now, with this little project going on, I’m getting asked by people in the Ordo, “[title redacted] Eldridge! Why are you taking important time away from the great work to bother with these people?

My answer, is the same now, as it was then. It hasn’t changed, with my change of covenant.

I want freedom.

Of course, those Invictus types, looking to reign me in or recruit me, would say. “Well yes. But I have just as much freedom as you.”

“Sorry skippy. But you don’t.”

*Laughing. perhaps a bit nervously.*

“No really. and I’ll prove it.

Do you belong to family dynasty? 

Are you a member of a faction within your covenant? 

Do belong to a guild? 

Are you presently under an oath, mystical or otherwise?  

Is there some elder looking over your shoulder?   

Are your failures going to reflect badly on your sire and your sire’s sire?”

“Well...”

“You’re not free. You are, at the price of some power and perhaps a nice lump of cash, hopelessly entangled in a web of laws, rules, expectations, obligations, traditions, and horse-shit.  When you are forced by circumstances to stand idly by while some other member of your covenant executes a friend, or worse, are forced to do it yourself...Come talk to me about how free you are.”

And that usually shuts them up.

When you don’t have any power to speak of, you tend to pay attention more. You think through your moves. You work with what little you have and try to figure out ways to maximize and HACK what power you DO have.  When you are sitting on a fat pile of power, the tendency is to become a victim of your own success.   This is WHY I tell you that mental passivity is death. Some night, sooner or later, you’ll find yourself falling to someone younger and smarter who has figured out how to take you down with nothing more than a butter knife and a jar of mentholated salve. UNLESS you keep struggling to learn.

But as I say, when you don’t have power, your thoughts might turn to what it is, how it works, how to get it. How to KEEP it.

And I tell you, that the nature of power, true power, is choice.

When you have choices. You have power.

When all you have is poor choices or NO choices, you have no power.

When you hesitate to make a choice, because it seems like you have too many choices, the act of hesitation, STEALS your power until you make a choice.   It’s better usually to make a choice and be wrong, and have to choose again or change plans, than to dither and die.

The Carthian Movement is a covenant built on the idea that we each have a purpose and that the only thing that is going to keep us going from night to night is the ideal that we struggle to live by. No one can choose that purpose for you. Only you can do it.  The Movement can never ever be a sort of situation like hammering a square peg into a round hole. Other covenants do that stuff all the time. They’ll tell you who you are. They’ll tell you who you can be.  They’ll ruin you if you don’t play the role they’ve assigned and try to make you feel ashamed for being yourself.   When you realize this is happening, check your neck for bite-marks for they are draining you of everything you are.  I am beginning to suspect that the reason why Carthians seem to have a much lower incidence of insanity is not down to our dearth of elders.  It’s down to the fact that we are more likely to be ourselves and devil take the hindmost.

Frankly, if it weren’t for certain betrayals and the fact that most of my fellow carthians in my hometown were jerks, I’d still be one tonight.

Now, the freedom I fight for is finding my way outside of the curse of vampirism.

I was never all that keen on becoming a vampire in the first place.

My front may have changed, but my fight hasn’t.

I want to be free. and if that means dying as a mortal man does, I’ll take it.

If you want to take my freedom. If you want to take my ability to choose. You’d better be ready for the fight of your unlife.

There is only one more thing you have to know about Power.

And I say this thing to you out of hard experience.

Power is never without cost.

Be sure, that you are ready to pay the price.

The Sixth Pillar: There are worse things than Death

Look. I get it. Death is scary. 

Even this Ur-Death is kind of messed up and weird.  Do you remember what it was like when you first realized that your heart wasn’t beating?  Even if your embrace was a long awaited goal or a rude shock, that first moment when you realized that something had changed...had changed Irrevocably....It took a bit of processing.

That’s the thing that’s easy to get lost in the shuffle about this existence, if you aren’t paying attention. Many times, the big choices that you make are irrevocable.  The choice to bend another’s will with your blood, the choice to create a childe,  the choice to drink someone dry.  Once these things are done, they cannot be undone. And once you’ve done them enough, you don’t even want to bother to atone.

Look. The fact of the matter is this, Death isn’t really all THAT scary compared to the idea that maybe you can’t stop yourself from diablerizing.  Or maybe you can’t stop yourself from lusting after another’s vitae.  Or you’re ruthlessly hooked on Lacrima or some other madness like that.

(No. the irony that I am counseling people against the use of certain substances has not been lost on me.)

Death isn't all that scary compared to the idea that you might end up on the receiving end of some princely punishment that lands you awake and aware in a concrete block at the bottom of the river.  Even should you win free of such a prison, you aren't likely to be the same afterwards. If nothing else, you'll have a withering case of claustrophobia for the rest of your Requiem. 

Death isn’t really all that scary compared to the idea that you can become addicted to another’s vitae for as long as they care to keep you on the hook. That you can be made to turn your back on friends, allies, mortal family, your personal philosophy and your ideals. That you can be made into a sad parody of yourself. When you have those occasional moments alone and you want no other thing than to be free from an abusive relationship to the point that you’re willing to wait for your savior to rise in the East...

Let’s just say I had a bad experience.

I won’t even take a personal ghoul because the idea makes me go squick. I can’t make that choice for anyone else though.  You have to determine where you personally have to stand on the whole addiction/slavery question.  For some, it might be the only way they can survive, and for others, having a domitor might be downright therapeutic. Especially if you treat them well.  Which you should.   

I should mention, that seeing a Carthian treat a ghoul, like an Invictus treats a Carthian is one of those things that riles me up pretty well.

The Ordo...Well. It’s a different culture entirely. Again, your mileage may vary.

Look. You can lie to your Prefect. You can lie to your prince.  Although I don’t recommend either. Lying at a certain level in kindred society is largely pointless. You might as well tell the truth. They may not be prepared for it.

But the one thing you can’t lie to, is your own conscience.

You have to deal with the idea that maybe you’ll enslave someone without meaning to.  You may have to live with the idea that someone will want to enslave you.

Some have tried with me.  When that takes place, there are only Three options. 

*Kill them.

*Kill yourself.

*Live the rest of your nights as a slave.

Me. I’ll get myself a suntan before I live that way again.

The Fifth Pillar: Be Nice

There once was a very wise man who said this:

"Be Nice.

If someone gets up in your face and calls you a cock-sucker, I want you…to be nice.

If he won't walk, walk him. But be nice.

If you can't walk him, one of the others will help you, and you'll both…be nice.

I want you to be nice, until it's time to not be nice anymore."

"Well, uh…How we supposed to know when that is?"

"You won't. I'll tell you when."

There is no percentage to be gained by being a raving douche-nozzle. 

There is no percentage to be gained by making enemies that you don't have to make.  

There is no point in going to formal court with the idea in mind of acting up, Hogging the spotlight, and then taking a huge dump on the rug. 

Carthians who do this sort of thing give us all a bad name, and while they are inevitably a self-correcting problem…they can do a great deal of damage before they are…Corrected.

The machinery of social interaction requires grease to function properly. Politeness IS the grease, and in NO society is it more necessary than in a society of predators, liars, murderers, and monsters. Politeness allows us the ability to interact safely. and is one of the reasons why Elysium is such an important tradition to our kind.

Elysium is SO important that it creates an office. Elysium is SO important that when some prince attacks his enemies in an elysium, it usually mean that Prince, or that city's domain is not long for this world. You cannot wipe your ass with the tradition of Elysium without dire consequences.  And if you cannot be trusted to follow the tradition of Elysium. You can't be trusted for much of anything else.  Many kindred will assume you're feebleminded or two steps off from wassail. 

Being Nice is simple. It's not necessarily always EASY, but it IS simple. 

Call people what they want to be called. Use a person's titles without rolling your fucking eyes.  Unless a state of war exists between your covenant and another covenant, don't go cruising for a bruising. Keep it in your pants. If you want to argue, save it for the Carthian hangout.  If someone says something to you that's liable to get you riled up, excuse yourself and go talk to other kindred until you cool off.  If that Asshole won't leave you alone. Speak to the keeper. If the keeper does nothing. Leave the Elysium. If the asshole follows you, make him wish he hadn't.  If you want to leave, and you're fairly sure you can't take that guy, gather your fellow Carthians and leave en-masse.  Once you've left elysium, speak to the Harpy and inform him that you and your fellow carthians will no longer be attending Elysium until the asshole is publicly censured.  

Live by the dictum:  Don't start none. Won't be none.

You may find, that there are political compensations to be had for this effort. That you can become known as a "reasonable" carthian. A possible "back-channel" into other covenants.

And if you're whole covenant hews to this idea then YOU become known as a covenant of vampires that is easy to work with and respectable.

How many times have YOU personally, been saddled with an unfair characterization because of the public relations problem of our covenant. 

Who needs that shit? Nobody.

Am I saying that it's important to roll over and show your belly. No. Far from it.

But seeing as how we are passionate and excitable creatures, we don't always have a good yardstick for knowing when a fight is called for.  I say to you:

If you would be a moral and ethical vampire in this modern day and age, That you should start no fight, but always be ready to finish one.

“There is nothing in our book, the Qur'an, that teaches us to suffer peacefully. Our religion teaches us to be intelligent. Be peaceful, be courteous, obey the law, respect everyone; but if someone lays a hand on you, send him to the cemetery.” 

- Malcolm X

In fact, as a Carthian we should want to adopt the basic premise of the Hell's Angels. "Raise a hand to one of us? You raise a hand to all of us." 

This of course requires a caveat for any Carthian with poor impulse control.  If YOU started the fight, and there didn't NEED to be a fight, then you're going to get the shit kicked out of you by all of us, twice as hard afterwards.

This will occasionally mean that you'll end up fighting with someone who you consider a friend/ally simply because SOMEONE decided to be ignorant. All you can really do is say, "Hey. Sorry about this…" and maybe send them a nice gift afterwards.

Hey. Who knows. Maybe if we adopt the basic idea that fighting with us isn't consequence free FOR ANYBODY. Then maybe other covenants will do the same.

But, i'm not going to hold my nonexistent breath.

Look. there are entirely too many motherfuckers walking around with the attitude that you only give respect to those who respect you in return. This is, at its basis, the philosophy of the self-justified asshole.  You give respect to all beings until they stop being worthy of it.  And if you do so, you in turn, earn the respect that you are given.  and Hey, if YOU are respected, and someone loses YOUR respect, they are likely to lose the respect of all who respect you.  Win/Win.

It takes so little time and effort to simply be polite, I recognize that many Kindred are emotional cripples or burn victims. But I still don't see how kindred go from social engagement to social engagement and are unwilling, or unable, to extend basic courtesy to one another.

I recognize that following this pillar is a bit like walking a tightrope. But within all philosophies are dichotomies. All of existence is walking one tightrope or another. 

Now it can be told.

So. People have been wondering about me. Whatever happened to Pinky? What kind of secrets did he have?  How'd he end up?

As far as secrets go, I don't have any. Never did. I might have pretended I did a time or two, but that's easy. If you act like you have an ace up your sleeve, people will assume you do.

When you're a vampire, you don't exactly get to ride off into the sunset. It makes for stinging that Bactine won't help, and an extremely poor attitude. But as far as it goes, I did at least end up in a place of peace.

When last seen, I had left Lexington. Janosh had decided to go home to the Ukraine, and still being relatively new to this century, asked if i'd accompany him. The idea of international travel was frankly a daunting one to someone who was still getting used to this modern world. Fortunately, I was used to traveling in a way that most kindred aren't.

So we did some plane-hopping. I called a guy i knew in NYC and got us some traveling documents and then threw some baksheesh at the Kindred who have their hooks into TSA at JFK. Had to do some favor trading.  Also stopped in and saw my literary agent.  And then we were on the red-eye overseas.

Had to stop in France. Janosh had this bee in his bonnet about making a full report to the Ordo Chapter house that had sent him to the states in the first place. It took some looking, the old chapterhouse had been burned down and had eventually relocated underground in the parisian catacombs.  His "full report" took 3 full weeks of non-stop talking in a symposium. The French Ordo seemed largely bemused by it all. None of the kindred that had known about Janosh's original mission were alive or out of torpor. Literally, no one knew who Janosh was, and in addition, while Janosh's French was way better than mine, it was characterized by the kindred in that Chapterhouse as "Somewhat rustic".  

At least, I think that's what they were saying. In the end, most of the Kindred that turned up left after about an hour, except for the contingent of Ventrue Architects. Those guys ate it up with a spoon. By the end of 3 weeks, they were treating Janosh like a bona-fide rock star. The old Russian bore it with humility and good grace.  But I think he was tiny bit embarrassed.  After promises to visit again, we set off across europe.

If Janosh's French was "Rustic". His Russian was turning out to be incredibly archaic. It was like someone who had learned to speak Elizabethan English turning up in London today and trying to get around.  Granted, the old man is eideticker and learns fast, but for the first couple of week back in the old country, i had to do a bit of translating for the old man.

Russian Kindred fall into 3 major categories. Political, Aristocratic, and Proles.  So, Janosh's return upset the applecart somewhat. He is VERY old. When he wants to, you can feel the power in his blood from across a ballroom. But in his breathing life, he was, to put it mildly, a farmer.  He has no patience for political rhetoric, and he's not an aristo.  Most of the Aristos are kind of old and used to ordering people like Janosh around. Janosh has even less patience for that.  Some Romanov-blooded piece of work said something stupid to Janosh, and he, showing remarkable restraint, picked him up off his feet and threw him across the room and into a Hepplewhite sideboard.

He literally stood and waited for the keeper of Elysium to turn up while the aristo worked himself into a paroxysm of hysterics. (I pegged him for old Ventrue) The Aristo demanded that Janosh be taken for judgement to the Prince. Janosh calmly explained, that the aristo had offered him insult and being hucked across the room was his way of challenging the "young fledge" to a duel. After all, he'd not been seriously harmed. And if he wanted to satisfy his honor, Janosh was more than willing to meet him, and any seconds, friends, allies and blood relations who were willing to cast their lives away, directly outside.  "If I had wanted to kill him," he continued, "I'd have done this…"  and then he did his trick.

Now, I've SEEN him do it, and i still think it's pretty startling, knowing he can do it, so I can only imagine what THEY thought. I've seen the aftermath of him depopulating crack houses in the sketchier parts of Lexington and it's frankly terrifying. He is able to turn to mist form subliminally fast, and reform even faster. I have Quicken Sight, and it still looks like he's almost teleporting. Also, he's got the longest claws I've ever seen on a Gangrel.  The ventrue had only the mildest knick on his cheek, but everyone in the room got the message. His more level headed kin moved in immediately, and with some "lordly words", forced him to pipe the fuck down. For his part, Janosh's apology to the Keeper and the prince was long and properly flowery.

Janosh would introduce me as his "Childe". Which brought me some unwelcome scrutiny, even though I thought it an honor. The old man is a good mentor.  In fact, when we made contact with the Russian OD, his name was legend and carried an interesting amount of weight.

The Moscow Chapterhouse is one of most impressive libraries I have ever been in. We made a point to travel there after Janosh had established some territory in the Ukraine and felt he could safely leave for a week. The library had taken over three blocks within walking distance of Dzhershinski Square and was originally a firm that exclusively handled accountancy for the KGB back in the old days. The upstairs was all still regular buildings and seemingly unconnected, but the underground areas extended down at least 4 stories by my count,  Built and maintained by Gangrel and Nosferatus.  Floor to ceiling with books for 4 stories and 3 whole blocks. Most of them old and crumbling before the rise of the Tsars.  The largest collection was the Stalin's Black Library, which was rumored to hold such occult works as would take a belt sander to the sanity of most researchers.

Now how can I resist that sort of challenge?

After 2 weeks it became apparent to me that I was only scratching the surface. Janosh understood. I'd found a thread in some very old works that would have led to something I've been working on in the Great Work. So he bid me stay and look as long as I'd like while he returned to his home.

We'd been traveling together for months. and in about an hour of his leaving, I missed him terribly. It made we want to turn aside from the work. And perhaps the only reason I did not, is that if I chased after the old monster like some frightened child, I'd never earn his respect again…

So I stayed. and I read.

I made diagrams. Talked to the librarians. 

I did math that made my head hurt.

I called up spirits using age old and very reliable protocols.

I asked questions. Found fellow travelers on the same road as myself.

I spent 4 months there.

I followed the thread of my research.

See. We have this ability to manipulate the monster within us. It occurred to me at some point that it may be that we can enhance and manipulate that which is in us, that enables us to still be human.  I've crudely referred to it as a form of "Weaponized Humanitas"  But that's a limited way of putting it.  It's more like having Humanity that shareable.  Possibly even by force.

It led me to a certain dragon's nest in the heart of the slums of new delhi. To drop acid, and throw myself bodily into the deepest hole in hell, just to see if I could claw my way out.

It led me to Tibet. I spent three weeks there with no blood and no sleep. and when I did taste blood again, it was only a drop, but that drop of blood was as sweet as a promised kiss in the springtime.

It led me to Honshu where I studied with a noted blood alchemist. I lived in the form of a junkyard dog or as an Owl, and became the unofficial protector of our neighborhood against the Akuma that lived there. I still have the sword, which is a true thing of beauty.

All that left me changed.

Golconda?  Nah. Golconda is a tiny flyspeck town in Western Kentucky. I went there once as a lark. They have 3 streets and one stop sign. You actually have to leave town to pick up your mail.  No. I was looking for a soul-deep change and half measures weren't going to do.

Finally, I went wandering. I found myself heading north and remembered some unfinished business in Iceland. 

I was negotiating with the local prince for permission to stay there. It wasn't going well.

The last time I'd been there it had been because one of my ex-wives had tracked me down and demanded some answers and I had to go into hock with some of the local Ventrue to get the situation handled. and as it happened, those kindred weren't exactly friendly with the prince. Lovely.

Fortunately for me, an incursion of Brood swept into Reykjavik in numbers so large that it was truly daunting. See. Iceland is far enough north that there are periods of months at a time when you have no sun. At times, Brood come out of the woodwork. The locals hate it of course.

The unfortunate thing is when kindred attack something in THOSE sorts of numbers, it doesn't really matter what the security arrangements are, they tend to fail and then it's pretty much every man for himself.  These guys were fast, tactically savvy, and well armed.

I waded in. Sword and claws. Moving fast, like I can. Taking the occasional hit, in order to gain position and leverage, for a strike of my own, like i've learned. But something was different about this fight. I could feel it in the air, the sharp tang of blood already on the breeze.

I could feel it in their moves. In their eyes. A distinct lack, like a hunger, not for blood, but for something more nourishing. I could feel it in the monster charging me, most keenly, as if he somehow sensed that I had what he sought.

But he didn't have to take it from me. I would give it to him willingly. 

We locked eyes. 

He ground to a halt. 

He dropped his weapon.

He shed one tear, and then another.

He fell to his knees and sobbed. He never took his eyes off me.

The sounds of combat had ceased all around us. The brood had remembered their humanity. and even the kindred on my side were finding it hard to raise a weapon and punish those crying monsters.

My Devotion only works for a single night. Most of the Brood begged us to kill them or leave them for the sun, but we ended up staking them until we could sort out a means to rehabilitate them. It's slow going, but it's still going on tonight. I don't know exactly what I did, but it seemed to have a longer term effect on the Brood.

Of course, NOW, i'm the princes best friend. I don't know if I can even teach this gift to another kindred or whether it's something unique to me, but I'll see what I can do.  

I call my Devotion, "Here. Have some of Mine."

Ilse and I live together now. She won't re-marry me, but she's still fond of me, and we still have earth-shatteringly great sex.  And, bonus, I speak more Icelandic now, and she speaks more English, and I'm finding I can occasionally bridge the gap with Russian. So we understand one another much better now.  

I don't exactly know how I got here. But here is a good place to be. If you're receiving this email, You're one of the people I trust and I don't mind visitors, even if trouble is dogging your heels.

Come see me sometime.

P. Berkowitz.