Dark ages werewolf .pdf download

The pitiful wretches of eternal hell? We are vampires, and that is enough. I am a vampire, and that is far more than enough. I am that which must be feared, worshipped and adored. The world is mine -- now and forever. It would land on their hot skin. You have found someone. You have made your reasons and your excuses.

This is the one, you tell yourself. If you could drool, you would wipe your mouth with your hand. Torchlight dances around you.

The torchlight is for the victim. It makes them feel safe. You could see them in the dark. You have marked them. You can feel them. Anticipation sharpens you. Your prey walks and you follow. Sometimes you follow in the shadows, away from the bright orange fingers of torches, orange fingers that pry. Sometimes you follow in plain sight.

Your reasons and excuses spur you on. Your feet travel over dirt roads, through tall, dry grasses, hot, dusty sand, the haphazard cobblestones of a street younger than yourself, over the smooth stones of the temple floor.

You swallow, hard. A gesture left over from another life. Your mouth would be watering. Your feet are so quiet. If your prey suspects anything, they do not suspect you.

They do not suspect what you are. What you will do. No reaction comes from your body, dead but alive. Still you stalk. You follow. You draw closer. Your hunger is a blessing. It is a gift. It will grant you success. It ties you to your prey.

This is the one. Patience is rewarded with success. Success turns to surprise. You feel their heart thump harder. The reek of fear. You are real. They see you for what you are. They see they are the prey and you are the predator. They see it is too late. Still, they run. And you chase. If your mouth could water you would be drooling. At least you can throw your head back and laugh. Depending on your life and personal morals, you may stave off feeding as long as you can.

Or you may embrace it as a rite of your people, knowing soon the Beast which lies coiled within you will soon be able to strike and have its fill. Eventually, you will decide the time is right and you will engage in the Hunt. Some vampires have rituals or parameters they hunt within. They may set aside certain days for hunting or certain phases of the moon, or stars may signal the time to begin your search for your victim.

Others still simply wait until their Hunger hones their Beast to a fine point, finding that keen moment where their senses are honed to the delicate instrument needed to exact their prey. Just as human hunters come with many methodologies and targets, so do vampires. Some are undiscerning and simply grab the first unfortunate who passed by as they lay in wait.

Others seek out particular individuals or frequent certain locations, knowing the type of prey they seek is likely to pass through. A number may have stipulations to lessen the cruelty they are about to force upon whoever comes into their grasp. They may lay bait for their prey, reasoning it away as compassion.

At least their prey had a full belly and no cares before they were dispatched. Hunting may take place over the course of the night or over a long period of time, the vampire stalking the prey in the open or from the shadows. Perhaps to heighten the connection, to make feeding more meaningful? As a challenge? Vampires are not alone, stalking the hovels, streets, and roads of the Dark Ages. Charlatans and rogues look for purses and goods. Sex workers look for customers, selling their wares without displaying them first.

Inquisitors boldly pursue heretics, torches raised high. Witch hunters and those tuned to the supernatural search in the dark, peeking behind the veil between the worlds frayed and thin when the sun is a memory. All who linger outside at night have their reasons for doing so. Hunting is different from hunger. In hunger, the vampire is acutely aware of their disconnect from the rest of the human populace, in all the facets that may entail. In the hunt, the vampire first engages with the prey.

Their senses, heightened and precious, see, smell, and hear things the prey is unaware of, the promise of taste. They focus on their intended. Impending intimacy looms. Death looms. They cannot know or they will flee. If they flee, they may cry out and the hunter may become the hunted. The chronicle may require you to take your eyes from your mark.

It may require you to engage a mortal in the hunt that you would not otherwise pursue on the behalf of an organization or individual seeking out the mortal demise of a liability. It may remove you from your hunting grounds or force you to change your methodology. In the hunt, you may still lie to yourself. Others stalk in the evening hours.

Yet none are looking for what you are looking for, and not for the same reason. The Beast desires and the self strives to direct. You must measure yourself against your hunger and pace the pursuit of what you require. You will have it. It is simply a matter of when. Climax - The Feeding Grip. The stretch of your mouth. You bite down hard. Teeth tear through skin, muscle, veins.

Soft, tough, chewy, hot. Your mouth will not hold back. Fear shoots hot, thick blood into your mouth. It gushes. It wants to leave their body. Blood spreads itself wantonly over your tongue.

You soar. It is more passionate than the most sensual kiss. It is more satisfying than the finest delicacies, more intoxicating than the headiest wines, and more liberating than the most sacred of religious rites.

The Beast has what it wants, and yet it asks for more. And more comes. It flows so freely, like an offering, for you.

All your reasons and excuses melt away. There is no need for justification. There is no judgment. There is no damnation.

There is you. There is your mouth. There is hot blood. There is a body pressed up against yours, so close, so giving. Your mouth is wet with it. And still, it comes. Feeding is the ultimate paradox within the vampire. It is the vibrant, ecstatic joining of two bodies, an intimacy never to be replicated. Yet the act hurls the vampire away from humanity, thrusting them farther and deeper into the darkness as the light of the human victim is snuffed out.

In the act of feeding, these two contradictory actions embrace, mingle, and coalesce. The act of feeding is violent. Even when done quietly, carefully, with a sedated or sleeping victim, it is still the rending of flesh so blood may be spilled. It is Cainite versus Seth. It is Caine murdering Abel again, removing the glory the human may have brought the world. Blood, generally reserved for deities and demons coats your throat, flows through your limbs, invigorating you.

The rush of the chase leads to the rapture of feeding. More intoxicating than any Bacchanal rite, you are a childe Playing the Game. Each vampire will have their own method and rituals for feeding, but the desire to drain the victim dry and move on to the next is strong. The Beast no longer slinks through your nightly life.

In that moment, it is your life, and if you cannot contain it, it will rage, uncontrolled. It does not wish to remain in the cage of rules and rituals, only summoned to perform tricks.

It wants to sink its terrible teeth and crunch bone, slurp blood and suck the marrow from those it can catch. Every feeding is the damning evidence that you are not a human.

Every feeding is a frenzied proclamation as to your new, powerful, dreadful heritage. Every drop of strange blood that fills you makes you stronger, better.

Mercy is shown at your discretion. The habit of killing and the growl of the Beast makes each drawing from the vast pool of humanity easier. You long for a day where you can glut yourself, even as blood fills your mouth. It is up to you to pull back, to disengage from this fleeting connection and force your Beast back behind the trappings of law and rules you use to contain it. You have your fill, as much as you dare. As much as you can allow yourself.

As much as they have. You are full. But you are never sated. The Denouement All you dared to take has been given. Warmth flows through you. The blood within you is fresh. The event is fresh. It has not been given. You have taken it. The Beast within has had its fill. Yet still, it wants more.

It is not your place to be sated. Even when your body can hold no more blood, it still seeks more. It seeks destruction. It seeks answers.

It seeks justification. You would devour everything in its path, as those deities of old once did. Bone would crack, flesh tear, blood spray across your cold, lustful face. Screams would rise into the sky and gurgle, fade and then be silent under your terrible mouth.

Satisfaction flees from you as this truth enters your mind, mixing with animating blood. Your face is sticky and you lick your lips. Still you want more. It is never enough. The distractions of politics and knowledge and travel and treachery and friendships and vendettas are never enough.

You bite your lip. Something else. Something different from you. They were alive. Now they are dead. And you are alone. Growing colder as the Beast snarls for just a bit more. Just one more. If you could cry, tears would fall from your eyes. A thief, you take what is not yours. A murderer, you snuff out the life of the unsuspecting. A liar, you spin truths and misdirect to hide your secret. The gorging of blood fills the vampire with hyperbolic emotions, abilities.

The Beast is quieted and all your senses quick and keen, able to function without the constant whispers to feed. Human company becomes more bearable, their scent not as tempting. But eventually, the high wears off. The realization sinks in. This may happen while your victim still lays across your lap, their limbs already stiffening in yours.

It could happen after some weeks, when the first pangs of Hunger begin to gnaw, your previous feeding seeming futile. Your memories are sharp in your mind. The bodies and victims pile up. Each feeding leads to another. You and your kind remain relegated to the dark.

Your kin and clan members stretch on and on, fighting and feeding, towards what? You consume and watch people, villages and cities die, fall, decay. Some vampires. Others may simply become more stoic. Others may avoid speaking of the growing emptiness yawning within them as the fresh blood grows old and then drains away during the unlife sustaining them all.

The Beast, sated, sleeps and the vampire is left alone with their thoughts, to consider their place in the world. The distractions of social and clan-related obligations may allow the Cainite to focus and recuperate from the bloody ordeal of feeding. But eventually, the Beast will stir again. And the Hunger will, again, take hold. This endless cycle will manifest differently for every vampire in the game. Some vampires will embrace all aspects. Some will drag parts out, avoiding certain stages.

But no vampire can free itself from this, the need for blood and all that entails. Other vampires are also being crushed under this circle of gluttonous desire and exultant pleasure, even those who embrace their vampiric nature completely.

The famished and the feasted all walk the shadows of our Dark Medieval World. There is no escaping the cycle. How you approach your own vampiric nature will affect your fellow characters and your place in the society of Cainites. Click Here to buy the Vampire: 20th Annniversary Edition book and help support this web site! Special thanks to Ian Watson for the use of his high quality Clan Symbols!

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