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Kindred Of Seth
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"It is clear from my studies that he (Caine) was real and also that he did indeed sire the Kindred we all know as Seth. It is unclear, although most of us believe it to be so, wether Caine, the 'father' of our species, is the same 'Cain' mentioned in the Human religious Bible.

It is a topic of some speculation as to what happened to Caine. The Camarilla, which accounts for well over half our number, believes that he was slain by Seth (or buried deep in the ground, as Seth could not kill him). As Seth became as powerful, if not moreso, than Caine he overpowered him and stopped all his Brethern (the other Vampire's Sired by Caine) from siring any vampires by poisoning their blood. Although Seth's brethern are still alive none of their sired Kindred are still alive today. It is widely believed that Seth mercilessly slaughtered all their kindred in order to be the father of Vampire-kind. Others, outside the Camarilla, believe that Seth was the only of Caine's Kindred blessed with the ability to reproduce. Others disbelieve it all, although they agree that Seth is the most powerful and eldest Vampire still alive. The same sceptics sometimes think that Seth has made up Caine in order to boost everyones opinion on him, making them believe he killed a God, in a way.

Whatever is true, i hope my studies of our Reliogeous beliefs and background have helped you understand your own kind"

i) The Inquisition.

It was a cold, damp and miserable winter's evening. The rain pelted down on the few leaves left on the trees creating an echoic thunder high above, aside from this the forest was quiet. Too quiet. Animal life had long since departed this tiny part of Middle-England but that isn't what Gangra was expecting to hear. Where were they? Had they just left? Absurd, the lycanthrope were strictly territorial about their 'homes'. Gangra's thought's were straying, imagining all the possibilities and trying to find the most likely. It seemed, at first, that the Mortal's had somehow found them and they had fled. But Gangra hadn't picked up the scent of Mortal blood since he left York two weeks ago, then again, he hadn't picked up any Lycanthropic scents either, which, disgusting as they were, always helped in tracking them. After a few miles he found it, it had taken him about twice as long as usual, but he found the tiny encampment.

Strange. The crude tents were all up and the fire in the centre of the semi-circle of these oh-so-humble abodes was still smoldering away. And yet, this part of the woods usually had the 6 lycanthropes who were always here. This explained it. This explained why the lycanthrope's hadnt gotten in touch with him and his kindred. A Month, Gangra had waited, waiting for the lycanthropes to get in contact, just to tell them what this "inquisition" the mortals were doing was. All Gangra knew was it wasn't good. He rummaged through the tents to see if there was anything, even a hint of a clue as to what had happened here. Four hours of searching the ten-metre square camp and he had found nothing, not even a sign of a struggle. Gangra looked up high, it looked like it was almost dawn. He was hungry. He had gone 2 weeks without so much as a sniff of food and now it was too late to try and hunt. With a sigh he decided to spend the day at the camp, when he awoke the following evening he would hopefully be able to find out more and head back to his Kindred.

Two months previously Gangra's existence hadn't seemed so bleak, nor would it be he that would be searching a remote English forest for werewolves. Two months ago he was the sire of ten Kindred. A Vampire. A Prince Vampire. As a Prince he was the head vampire in Middle-England. It's true, compared to the Princes over on the Continent he didn't control very much. Over there France had it's own Prince, as did Germany and SPain. Whole countries of Vampire's all at their command. They lived extravegantly over there, and up until two months ago, he had longed to reach that status one day.

Every Month a messenger Kindred from each country would travel all over europe. France, Germany, Romania, Poland, England.. all the major countries had one. Their sole purpose was to travel Europe. It would take them a month to travel to all the countries and when they got back to their own country they would gather up all the information, spend a night of Indulgence and Feasting, Then set out on their way again. England worked slightly differently. Each countries messenger would arrive in London to give all their information they had from their country and from London a number of lesser messangers (often mortals) would carry the information to each part of the country. Every Month without fail, this would all be carried out.

However this year, 1251, was different. In January the messenger had arrived at Gangra's hidden village, a small collective of long abandoned mortal homes, deep in a hillside where his finest vampires lived. He brought all the information as per usual. All the usual things. Just basic status reprts on how many Kindred were sired this month, if any were killed (which was pretty rare), the relations between the Prince's of each country and so on,all the things that normally bored Gangra to tears. The only thing that was slightly strange was Spain's current report on what the mortals were calling the "inquisition".

Gangra knew about the Inquisition, it had been formed some 30 years previously and never amounted to much. To be honest, it didn't affect Vampires much, if at all. The Inquisition seemed far more concerned with the Magi (Mortals with an understanding, and ability to control, the darker forces of reality) of the world, and to be fair, Gangra felt that anything that got Magi out of the world was better. The only unfortunate thing was that Mortals, being Mortals, often mistook Vampiric Behaviour and immortality to be a Magical ability and had, on occasion, killed a vampire believing them to be a witch. This was such a rare instance that it didn't bother Vampires. Magi were not to be trusted, and often attacked Vampires themselves so, in many ways, the Inquisition was a good thing for all, even the Lycanthropes agreed. Mage's werent subtle, and they deserved to be slaughtered. Simple as that.

Wrong.

Aparently, things had changed. It wasn't much. Spain's Prince reported that the Mortal's in the Inquisition had been 'tipped-off', as it were, about the existence of 'Mythical Beasts Of Lore'. It didn't specify what these beasts were but it did say they were far more concerned about them than the Magi. The Inquisitions report did seem to Describe Vampires though: 'Creatures of the night who slaughter mankind with merciless Beast-like rage'.

"Wouldn't like to be Spanish right now...", Gangra mumbled to himself as he flicked through each countries report.

And that was what most Vampire's in England felt. Until February came.

Near the beginning of the month the messengers arrived at Each Prince in England's abode. And each one carried just one sheet of paper, insetad of the mini-booklet they usually humped around with them.

The messenger tapped nervously on the door. Once again he was going to be greeted with, first, surprise, as the Prince noticed how few documents he was carrying. Second, anger, as the Prince would begin yelling uncontrollably at the messenger demanding that he told them what was going on. And then, finally, the threats which followed until the vampire was calmed down and reminded how the Nod (the rule-book of the vampires) states that eating messengers is punishable by excile or even death. There was no answer. He knocked harder this time, he heard someone shouting something inside and running. Eventually a young, female vampire opened the door and slumped on the side of the doorway.

"yes?" she questioned, lethargically.

"I Just arrived, I'm the messenger...." he coughed shaking

"GANGRA!!" She yelled "It's a Mortal here to see you!"

Gangra quickly emerged behind the girl and looked down at the single piece of paper the Messenger held.

"Is that it?" Gangra questioned, a little puzzled

"y-y-yes sir...." came the nervous reply

"Well... don't just stand there come on inside"

The Mortal followed Gangra inside and the girl closed the door behind him. The Mortal looked at Gangra as he strode down the short hallway. Gangra wasn't by any means tall but he had the kind of pressence that gave the illusion of height, he seemed to loom over even those people taller than him. His eye's were Dark and percieving. Everywhere he looked he seemed to be analysing things scrupolously, which was very intimidating if he was looking at you. He had a look that made you feel as though he could tell everything about you just from your eyes. Strange, the mortal thought, how unkept he looks considering he's a prince. He had straggly brown hair and a Tunic and almost always walked barefoot, and always kept his teeth sticking out over his bottom lip, a practice most vampires find rude. Gangra clearly didn't give a.....

"Right!" Gangra snapped, Tearing the mortal away from his thoughts "Let's have it then"

Gangra slumped in a large armchair and outstretched his arm, the mortal handed the piece of paper to him and watched cautiously as he read it. Gangra flicked through it in seconds, his face unchanged by what he was reading.

"Is that all?" he quipped

"yes sir"

"Where's all the rest of them?, What if I actually gave a shit about what was happening in Europe?"

"They..... " he paused "they... didn't show up sir"

"Who didn't?"

"The messenger's sire, we waited, that's why i'm a few days late..."

"So...nothing?" Gangra began to look puzzled

"Well... there was one... from Spain.. a werewolf sir"

"And he came to London?"

"yes sir, a vampire in France had paid him to set off for London and tell us what was happening in europe..."

"and....???"

"and nothing sir, the werewolf was an imbicile, he took the money and came across to tell us about werewolves, he knew nothing of the Vampires except there were... less of them....sir"

"less? The Inquisition?"

"We believe so sir, but we cannot tell.."

"Ok, fine. You can go" Gangra chucked the piece of paper back at the messenger and sat his head in his hands and fell into thought.

"thank you sir" the messenger picked up his paper and left, the female vampire watched as he left and saw him to the door.

Toriah re-entered the room and looked at Gangra.

"What happened?" she asked

"Huh?..oh...nothing.... we just didn't get anything from Europe."

"We'll be o-k here though?"

"Of course..... we'll be ok"

Wrong again.

It was clear to Gangra that the werewolf community obviosly wasn't what the Inquisition was after, not yet anyway, so he seeked out a pack of werewolves he knew were living about 40 miles away in the middle of an isolated forest and asked them if they could help, for a fee. They agreed and since March 1251 they had sent their own messenger to Gangra explaining what they could about Europe. The messages were always bad.

It seemed that almost all the Prince's in had been mercilessly Slaughtered and only Romania's and Poland's remained. And all between January and May? it was all too fast. Who knows what could happen in the coming year. Europe was being clensed of the Blood of Caine quickly and swiftly, only those too weak to be detected remained. It seemed to Gangra that here, in England, was currently the best place to be. Until July... when even the werewolves had failed to inform Gangra of anything. He had waited for a month. Nothing. After a month of waiting and damn near panic, he decided to set out. He placed Toriah in charge of the kindred and set out himself to find the werewolves.

And now here he was, in a damp, cold tent, in a damp, cold forest. More hungry than he remembered ever being and feeling the warm burn of the few dampened pieces of Sunlight that struggled to enter the tent. The tents were thick enough to protect him from being charred into dust by the sun but it was sore, especially without any fresh blood in his system. He reluctantly carried on trying to sleep and after 3 long, insomniacal hours, he passed out. Deep in a slumber of nightmares. Nightmares he had never experienced for over 200 years but now his mind was full. Fear. It felt new and un-nerving to him.

"'Forget God, God did not create you. I created you. All of you. I am your God'"