KINDRED SOCIETY      Vampires are first and foremost solitary predators. A kindred might go years or even decades without seeing another vampire, preferring to hunt in solitude or walk among a select group of mortals. Nonetheless, most Kindred choose or are forced to interact with their fellows at some point in their unlives; the movements of the Jyhad rarely leave even the most detached Kindred entirely untouched.      The society of the Damned is as structured as any mortal institution, if not more so. Numerous offices, titles and responsibilities circulate among the upper echelons of a city's Kindred, and these positions confer great power -- albeit with an accompanying peril, as those who would shake the foundations of a Kindred power structure often come looking for obvious title-holders.      The following societal tableaux apply primarily to Kindred of the sect known as the Camarilla. As the upholder of the Masquerade and preserver of the ancient traditions of power, the Camarilla sets the standard of vampiric interaction. Vampires may adhere to the Camarilla's model or defiantly deviate from it, but they cannot simply ignore it. Kindred entirely outside the Camarilla's aegis often follow very different customs and mores, but we will speak of these things later.

THE PRINCE      For time out of mind, vampires followed Darwin's law. Only the strong survive. Those who had the mettle to seize power and the strength to hold it would rule, and so it was. Vampires styled themselves as warlords and nobles, controlling whatever territory they could hold, living in uneasy truce with their mortal and Cainite neighbors, and ever seeking to expand their holdings and herds. In the cities of the ancient world, this often proved disastrous, as vampires battled for trade and feeding grounds.      In the elder nights, the strongest vampire in each city or region claimed domain over it and used whatever means necessary to keep his control over it. As time went on, traditions sprang up around this claiming and controlling, and certain responsibilities were either tacitly assumed or forcibly taken by the one in power. The Camarilla set down and enforced these ideals over the centuries following the Renaissance. In 1743, a London anarch published a pamphlet decrying the elder society of Kindred, breaking the Masquerade in a most flamboyant manner. The Camarilla responded quickly, first by covering up the incident ("A most remarkable work of fantastical fiction!") and destroying the anarch, and then by formally acknowledging the position of Prince. The office is still held by many vampires in these nights.      The prince is, to put it simply, the vampire who has enough power to hold domain over a city, codify the laws for that city and keep the peace. Such a position is typically held by an elder, for who but an elder has the necessary personal charisma and power to take and hold domain in a metropolis? In some small towns, younger vampires may be able to claim domain in the same way, but their claims are rarely respected by the coteries of the cities. On occasion, strange circumstances have placed younger vampires in a position to rule cities, but few such upstarts manage to hold their titles when the elders appear.      The title "prince" is simply that -- a title given to formalize a role, whether that role is held by a man or a woman. There are no dynasties of vampires holding their cities for centuries on end, no hereditary ascensions. Sometimes a prince may be called by a title native to the land he rules, such as "baron," "sultan," "count" or a less formal title such as "boss." Kindred scholars tracing the origins of the term believe that it had its roots in the Dark Ages, in reference to the lord of the manor, becoming a solid term of address after the publishing of Machiavelli's The Prince.      A prince does not "reign" over a city. His role is more like that of an overseer or magistrate than that of a monarch. He is the judge who settles disputes between Kindred, the ultimate authority on the Traditions as they relate to his city, and the keeper of the peace. Above all, his concern is the Masquerade and its preservation. Whether this means he regularly scours his city for Sabbat or keeps a stranglehold on the wilder elements is up to him. Not every prince realizes or cares that his power is meant to be so informal; indeed, some demand that they be treated like the kinds of old, holding "court" and requiring that their "subjects" within the domain attend them as they pass royal pronouncements. Such arrogance can rankle the populace, both disenfranchised youth and irritated elders.      The vampire denizens of a city owe their prince no oaths of loyalty or vassalage. Their obedience depends on their cowardice, and most princes make certain to have some means of reinforcing that cowardice. If a prince's rule is questioned or thwarted, he may call in force to maintain control. However, if there is not enough force for the problem, or he finds himself without allies, his reign ends.      Having followed the protocol demanded by the Traditions, most vampire ignore their prince, or give him half an ear at best to make sure they don't miss anything that might pertain to them. On the whole, Kindred have plenty of diversions to occupy themselves with besides listening to their "leader." Some elders, Inconnu and those in a position not to care (such as justicars) find princely announcements alternately amusing and arrogant, the blustering of a youngster still impressed with the gaudy trappings of power.      When all is said and done, however, the prince is nothing to brush off. A prince wields vast amounts of temporal power to achieve and maintain her position. Now only does she manage the Kindred affairs of the city, she usually has quite a bit of sway over mortal business. The police, fire department, construction companies, hospitals, the mayor's office -- all are extremely useful for putting down one's enemies or securing one's hold on a particular sphere of influence. If the prince wishes to squash a gang of particularly troublesome anarchs, she can have a construction company bulldoze their haven in the middle of the day. A church-sponsored hunter operating out of local cathedral may find the mayor's office calling to inquire about his church's tax-exempt status. Such influences usually capture the attention of those who might otherwise be inclined to thumb their noses at a prince. It is unwise to anger the one who could have your haven condemned by the zoning board or your phone line "accidentally" cut while a gas main is being dug.

BECOMING PRINCE      As was mentioned earlier, there are no dynasties or royal families from which princes are selected (though some clans would argue that point). Traditionally, the eldest vampire of a city rules, although this is no longer true in every city. It is one thing to say that the eldest traditionally rules the city, but any vampire may challenge for the domain and princedom. A prince reigns freely only when her claim is unchallenged. If she finds herself squaring off with one or more other claimants, then things get messy. There is a mass scramble for the crown, and whoever is left standing will rule. "Coronation," if it can truely be called that, can be anything from a bloodless, elder-backed coup to a violent usurpation led by a bloodthirsty coterie. Normally, the current regime is overthrown brutally and mercilessly, serving the dual purpose of dealing with the old prince and providing a graphic demonstration of the new prince's power. Whoever the new prince and however she takes the throne though, she needs the support of the elders if she wishes to hold the crown for more than a night. Most importantly, the council of elders known as the primogen must sanctions the reign of a prince; without this acknowledgement, the reign will be a remarkably short one.      Combat for the princedom is not simply a matter of pistols at midnight or a deserted street, or for that matter any kind of direct combat. Like everything about the Children of Caine, subtlety in all things counts, and the war for the crown takes place entirely in the shadows. The city's vampires -- elders, coteries individuals -- choose their sides as the rivals cultivate allies and determine enemies. Many things can drive a Kindred to choose a particular claimant -- promise of reward, loyalties to the vampire or her clan, concessions guarantees upon ascension, personal beliefs, or threats -- but once she has chosen, changing loyalties can be extremely dangerous, particularly if she has backed the wrong claimant when the fighting is done. Mortal institutions under vampiric influence -- banks, industry, high society, education, police, the underworld -- are brought to bear on the rival. Anything that can be done to give an added edge can, will, and has been tried. When the smoke clears, there is usually one claimant left standing, and the prize is in her grasp. Rarely is a new prince generous enough to leave her rival alive; even if she were, the primogen would never allow it to happen. Revenge, particularly that of the fallen rivals, is a dish best not served at all.

CLEANING HOUSE      Sometimes a group of anarchs or ancillae decides to bring down a prince once and for all. Coups are dangerous to attempt unless one is very secure in one's allies. Princes rarely get their seats on charm alone, and most have broods of childer for protection. Taking on the prince can also mean taking on the primogen who can readily crush any potential insurrection in the name of the city's stability.      A coup usually results in a political vacuum, and in the Kindred world, vacuums can have far-reaching consequences. A city in turmoil means instability; coteries battle for a place in the new order, elders war to ensure their survival, and sometimes the turmoil attracts the unwelcome presence of Sabbat, werewolves or witch-hunters. The resulting threat to the Masquerade can occasionally mean setting up any likely vampire to temporarily stabilize the city, but such solutions are rarely effective and often result in further chaos. Most elders, and indeed the majority of vampires in a city, will support a prince in the name of a stable city. War is never pleasant and, for elders concerned with their survival, war means the potential for Final Death. Unless a prince has become completely unmanageable -- through insanity, supernatural corruption or excessive tyranny -- the Cainites of her city can count on being stuck with her for a good while.      Abdication can, and occasionally does, happen. Indeed, in recent nights, a number of strange, sudden abdications and uncanny disappearances of ruling figures have rocked the ancient power structures. If one or more primogen choose to make unlife miserable for their prince for whatever reason, she may be driven from office. A vote of no confidence is also possible, but rare in the extreme, owing to the potential chaos that can arise when a prince is forced out of office or leaves under bitter circumstances.

ADVANTANGES OF PRINCEDOM      Some vampires believe that only the insane or vain seek out the position of prince. After all, as the symbol of Cainite power in a city, the prince is the likeliest target for anarchs, Sabbat and other perils. Add to this the political squabbling and jockeying for position within a prince's "court," and perhaps the critics are right. However, princedom must come with advantages to entice even the lowest to dream, and it does in spades.      Right to progeny -- Only the prince may freely create progeny. Other vampires who wish to sire must first obtain his permission or risk the destruction of themselves and their new childer. The prince may deny a Kindred who has offended him permission to sire a childe; conversely, he may sire as he chooses, in order to have more loyal followers. Most princes are reluctant to allow their subjects to sire. This stems partly from paranoia, partly from simple space considerations; after all, an overly crowded city risks the Masquerade.      Protection of the elders -- The primogen generally support their prince so long as he maintains order, preserves the Masquerade, and protects the city during times of trouble, such as werewolf incursions or Sabbat attacks.      Political power -- Among the Camarilla, a prince can expect to be heard by most elders and enjoys greater status than the ruck and run of Kindred. In almost any gathering, he is typically accorded great respect.      Control over domain and those who enter -- Under the Fifth Tradition, the prince may extend his reign to those who enter his domain, which is the entire city or region. New vampire arrivals, whether travelers or hopeful residents, are expected by the same Tradition to present themselves to him. The prince may punish Kindred who fail to introduce themselves.      Feeding -- The prince may restrict or limit the feeding grounds of other vampires for any number of reasons, chief among them the preservation of the Masquerade. This most often affects where Kindred may feed (e.g., "Not in the red-light district" or "Avoid the Clermont Hotel") and from whom (e.g., "Clergy and children are forbidden"). Disobeying orders regarding feeding can be very dangerous, as the prince may punish violators on grounds of breaking the Masquerade.      Domain over enemies -- By the Sixth Tradition, the prince may call a blood hunt against those who cross her too many times. She may not destroy at will (the elders' protection can run out inconveniently if she oversteps her bounds), but if she determines her enemies to have broken one or more Traditions, she is perfectly within her rights to punish them. Naturally, what constitutes a violation of the Traditions can be stretched quite far in the name of power. THE NIGHTLY GAME      The powerplays and intrigues that swarm around any prince are rarely dull. When several elders jostle for greater position and access to the prince, unlife can get downright exciting. Each Cainite has her own way to attempt to sway her ruler to her side, whether through cajolery, flattery, trickery or even threats of the stakes are high enough. Through it all, the players practice studied disinterest in the whole messy business, but only a fool would believe it. Pushing matters to the point of a coup d'etat or abdication is ill advised -- power vacuums can mean blood in the streets -- but the elders play more than one game in the corridors of power.      Most princes are "advised" by a group of elders called the primogen. Collectively, the primogen can be considered among the most powerful vampires in a city, and can rival the prince for influence of the city's Kindred. Individually, however, they are either not as powerful as the prince himself or do not care to devote themselves to the duties of maintaining a city (beware these last, for if they become discontented, they can influence a soup by merely stretching). The primogen usually serve as check and balance against the power of the prince, while seeking to advance their own or their clan's agendas. The bickering of the primogen can bog down the simplest of decisions and cause as much or more trouble than a prince's high-handed pronouncements.      The struggle between and among prince and primogen is by no means the sole component of the Kindred's political game. The prince versus the elders, clan versus clan, elder versus neonate, traditionalist versus anarch -- add in personal vendettas, revenge, greed, alliances and power mongering, and one has a very unsettled mix that can change from night to night. OTHER KINDRED OF IMPORTANCE      Over the centuries, certain positions have sprung up in the cities. Some assist the prince in keeping order; others began more as "vanity" positions, but became more solidified and codified as time went on.      The Primogen -- The primogen are the assembled elders of each clan in a city. Most often, each clan has a representative primogen, but in some cities a prince refuses to allow a given clan to place a member on this council of elders. In theory, primogen represent their clans among the political body of elders, but in practice the primogen are more often an "old vampires' club" and an incestuous nest of treachery and favor-carrying. Primogen -- convene at the prince's discretion. In cities with powerful or despotic princes, the primogen may be nothing more than a figurehead, while in other cities princes govern solely at the whim of the elder council.      It is worth noting that the prince is often not the primogen of his clan. Although some Kindred claim that having duplicate clans involved in the political structure weighs matters in favor of that clan, no one is really in a position to change it.      The Sheriff -- Most sheriffs are appointed by the prince and approved by the primogen. While the job description may vary from city to city, the sheriff's prime job is to be the prince's "enforcer," the vampire who hauls offenders into court, keeps order on the streets, and generally stands ready to assist with the "muscle" aspects of ruling. Sheriffs may select deputies, who occasionally require the prince's approval.      The Harpies -- These Kindred pride themselves on being the social managers of Elysium. They traffic in gossip and social maneuvering, and status is their coin. With the right or wrong word to a prince, they can make or break a vampire's place in the city. This position is rarely appointed outright; over time, those with the skills to be harpies tend to rise to the top. Most are unimpressed with the displays of bluster and demonstrate remarkable insight into vampiric nature. Bucking a harpy will assure one a place at the bottommost rung of the ladder of power for years to come.      The Whip -- Primogen occasionally keep whips as assistants. Not much different from the whips in mortal government, the whip's job is to goad and encourage discussion and decision-making during clan meetings, and to keep the clan updated on their primogen members' doings. Whips are selected by the primogen.      The Seneschal -- This is one position that many princes would like to do without, but which occasionally is necessary. One prince described the filling of this position to be akin to choosing which knife to put at her throat. A seneschal is meant to be a chamberlain, a second-in-command and an advisor to the prince. At any time, he may be asked to step into the prince's place is she leaves town on business, abdicates or is slain. Naturally, a prince wishes to have final authority on such an important position, and my have fought endlessly with their primogen over the subject. This is a dangerous position in more ways than one -- familiarity with the subject can give one ideas ...      The Keeper of the Elysium -- The keeper is in charge of what goes on in Elysium. A Toreador wishing to display her latest work, a Tremere wanting to give a lecture, or a Brujah scheduling an open debate on princely policies -- all must clear things with the keeper, who can cancel or approve an event on the grounds of preserving the Masquerade. The keeper is responsible for ensuring that mortals do not enter the area during Elysium and that events run smoothly. Most keepers are appointed by the prince, often with the stipulation that their appointment is conditional until their qualifications are assured.      The Scourge -- As the nights grow more and more violent and the cities fill with unknown Kindred, some Princes have resurrected this ancient position. Essentially, the scourge patrols the borders of a princedom, seeking out and often destroying newcomers who have failed to present themselves. Caitiff, as well as the fledgelings of the 13th, 14th and 15th generations, have much to fear from the scourge. In some cases, even vampires who have followed protocol fall victim to the scourge, as princes reflexively react to fears of overpopulation and espionage. A few scourges are Assamite assassins under contract to a prince. THE TRADITIONS      A vampire living in a prince-ruled city must accept certain responsibilities for the privileges of security and stability. This stability is maintained only when the Kindred within behave in a proper manner, one dictated by a near-universal set of rules. These rules are known by the gentle-sounding name of the Six Traditions, although they are hardly polite suggestions. For Camarilla Kindred, and the princes who enforce them, they are the law. A vampire may be assured that wherever she travels, the Traditions will be in force. They may be interpreted differently, but they remain. It is through the enforcement of these laws, and through the laws themselves, that princes receive much of their power. Obviously, then, princes are among the most zealous of the Traditions' enforcers.      The Six Traditions that form the laws of vampire society are believed to have been passed down since the wars that slew the Second Generation. They are rarely written down, but that have never been forgotten, and they are known by all Kindred in some form. Even vampires who scorn the Traditions know them; though their specific wordings may vary, the intent behind them never falters.      It is a popular Camarilla conceit that a sire recite the Traditions to his childe before that childe is recognized as a neonate. Some princes stage grand spectacles to honor new childer's transition from fledgling to neonate, while others need not even witness the release, trusting the sire with the proper execution. Almost all childer learn the Traditions well before this recitation, but the act is accorded great symbolism and gravity in Camarilla affairs. Staunch supporters of the Camarilla and the Traditions maintain that a newly Embraced Kindred has not truly become a vampire until her sire speaks the Traditions to her. Obviously, the Traditions are quite a serious matter, and the sire is held accountable for the childe until by speaking them to her, he makes her responsible for upholding the code herself.      Some vampires believe that Caine himself created the Traditions when he sired his childer, and that what modern vampires follow are their progenitor's original wishes for his descendants.. Others, however, think that the Antediluvians created them to maintain control over their childer, or that they were simply a set of common-sense ideas that were upheld over the millennia because they worked. The Tradition of the Masquerade, for example, is thought to have existed in some form since the nights of the First City, but it changed in response to the Inquisition.      A number of young vampires, children of the modern world, see the Traditions as being merely a tool of the elders to maintain their stranglehold on Kindred society, and an antique tool at that. The times that produced the need for the Masquerade are over and done, ancient history. Caine, Gehenna, the Antediluvians -- all myths with about as much substance as the Floor or the Tower of Babel, and all for the sake of controlling the younger generations. It's time to drop the Traditions and live in the modern age. The vampires of the Sabbat rabidly adhere to this reasoning, and their scorn for the Traditions is one of the primary motivations behind their constant attacks on the ancient power structure.      Most elders see the young as temperamental adolescents who think they know everything but who lack the wisdom and experience. As many of the rebels are anarchs and neonates, mostly powerless and without voice in Kindred society, it should come no great surprise that they are so wild. However, not every elder takes such an indulgent viewpoint. Many feel that the reckless whelps who demand the Traditions be dropped may get their wish when they bring mortal society down on their heads. Natural selection takes care of a few of these, but such selection has occasionally been "assisted" by a prince exasperated beyond patience with a particularly recalcitrant young vampire.      What follows is the most common wording to the Traditions. Bear in mind that this is the phrasing used by elders and on formal occasions. The wording may change according to the clan, the age of the vampire speaking, or special circumstance. During a childe's presentation to the prince she may be required to recite the Traditions as proof that her sire has taught them to her. THE FIRST TRADITION: THE MASQUERADE Thou shalt not reveal thy true nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so shall renounce thy claims to the Blood. THE SECOND TRADITION: THE DOMAIN Thy domain is thy concern. All others owe thee respect while in it. None may challenge thy word in thy domain. THE THIRD TRADITION: THE PROGENY Thou shalt not sire another only with permission of thine elder. If though createst another without thine elder's leave, both thou and thy progeny shalt be slain. THE FOURTH TRADITION: THE ACCOUNTING Those thou create are thine own childer. Until thy progeny shall be released, thou shalt command them in all things. Their sins are thine to endure. THE FIFTH TRADITION: HOSPITALITY Honor one another's domain. When thou comest to a foreign city, thou shalt present thyself to the one who ruleth there. Without the word of acceptance, thou art nothing. THE SIXTH TRADITION: DESTRUCTION Thou art forbidden to destroy another of thy kind. The right of destruction belongeth only to thine elder. Only the eldest among thee shall call the blood hunt. THE TRADITION OF THE MASQUERADE      This has become the foundation of modern Kindred society and the basis for the Masquerade that hides vampires from mortal eyes. To reveal vampires to the mortal world would be disastrous to both. While most people do not believe in vampires, there are enough who do that revealing vampiric existence would place all Kindred at risk. In older nights, during the Dark Ages and more superstitious ages, this Tradition was less strictly enforced, and vampires rode through the night with few cares for the mortal eyes who saw them. The Inquisition and Burning Times changed this drastically, however, as those vampires who could be seen were slain and tortured into revealing their secrets. While the youth may prattle about the Inquistion as ancient history, it is still very fresh in the minds of the elders who survived it. This is one of the greatest points of contention between the Camarilla and the Sabbat -- the Sabbat sees no need to hide itself from the feeble kine, while the Camarilla knows the opposite to be true.      A breach of the Masquerade is the most serious crime a vampire can commit, and one of the easiest for a prince to fabricate if she wishes to punish an enemy. Depending on how strictly the prince upholds the Masquerade, anything from using vampiric powers in public to having mortal friends may constitute a breath.      To stave off their immortal boredom, many vampires skirt the Masquerade as closely as they can, taking thrill from the forbidden rush that places their unlives in jeopardy. The world has acknowledged many artists, poets, musicians, models, club habitués, actors and fashion designers who, unbeknownst to the populace, were vampires. Of course, many of these vampires saw their unlives come to abrupt ends, as other Kindred decided that their continued existences were threats to the Children of Caine as a whole.      The Masquerade is a dangerous balance; ironically enough, the elders who support it most strongly are sometimes the ones who threaten it (albeit indirectly and without their recognition). An apocryphal story tells of a pair of vampire-hunters -- a new recruit and her patron -- on vigil in a nightclub. The patron said to his charge, "There is a vampire in this establishment. Find him," whereupon the charge immediately selected the thin, pale gentleman in 18th-century velvet and brocade. Sure enough, that was the vampire -- a Ventrue envoy from a neighboring city. THE TRADITION OF DOMAIN      Once, vampires staked claims to specific areas to use as hunting grounds, bases of power, or because they wished to take care of them. This Tradition was then used to enforce the idea of "domain," and a vampire could be justified in killing another because her domain was violated. Over the years, as societies changed, this became unacceptable. For the past 200 or so years, a city or region ruled by a prince became the domain of the prince upon his taking the throne, or at least in theory. The truth is, a number of vampires maintain domain, many times from the sheer weight of custom ("The sewers have always been the domain of the Nosferatu," or "A Ventrue has ruled this bank since its founding"). Of course, in modern nights, with some cities hosting vampire populations of 30, 50, even 100 or more, concessions must be made. As such, many vampires hunt where they will, in the communal hunting grounds of the city's bars, theaters and nightclubs, which are know collectively as "The Rack" in Kindred slang.      Young vampires, and a number of older ones, often still attempt to hold bits of territory, protecting and using them as private feeding grounds. Some anarchs claim that these mini-fiefdoms are granted by the prince as reward, proof that only the lapdogs get the treats. This is incorrect -- the Kindred who hold their bits of turf are violating the Second Tradition, and the prince need not stand for it. He often lets violations go, however, in the name of expediency; there are more important concerns than chasing after every petty would-be anarch who stakes out turf. He may entrust certain trusted allies with guardianship of particular areas, and grant them a few privileges for the burden of the job, but in the end, he holds domain over the city. This allows him to keep order, for he may, by the Second Tradition, punish interlopers with impunity.      For solitary vampires or small groups staking out their territory, domain holds immense allure to them, even if the territory is an urban wasteland. Few princes actually grant territory, but they occasionally allow "squatters," provided the vampires there support them and uphold the law there. The downside to this is the turf battles that can arise between gangs of anarchs or coteries. These can spill over into the mortal world and threaten the Masquerade. Some princes have gone so far as to encourage such conflict, regardless of the danger, in order to set the troublemakers at each other's throats and distract them from the business of the city.      If nothing else, each Kindred may claim her haven as domain, making her responsible for the activity in and around the area. Some vampires take an active interest in their environment to ensure a secure haven, while others merely want a room where they can get away from the sun and to hell with the rest.      The question of what exactly constitutes domain is debated nightly. Does domain mean the physically territory and its concerns (such as hunting and haven), or does a domain also grant a vampire access to and influence over the mortal spheres within? Most princes argue that domain is strictly an issue of physical "turf," but wisely realize that influence over mortal affairs comes with the territory, no matter how they might attempt to curb it otherwise. A vampire who keeps up domain at the docks cannot help but become involved in the nightly mortal business of shipping and unions, if for no other reason than to keep her haven secure (after all, a labor strike could be very inconvenient, particularly if her bolthole is on the other side of the picket line). Very few vampires stake a domain encompassing mortals they cannot affect in some way, which can be a help or a headache to their princes. A prince does, however, become inclined to step in when a particular vampire's power within and stemming from her domain threatens to eclipse his own.      As the nights progress and omens of Gehenna permeate Kindred society, ore and more vampires fortify individual domains, holing themselves away in spite of princely prohibition. Only in this manner, these paranoid creatures reason, do they have a chance of surviving the Jyhad. THE TRADITION OF PROGENY      Most princes insist that they are the "elder" of this Tradition's wording and, as such, require that any vampire wishing to create a childe obtain their permission before the creation. Most vampires obey more out of fear than respect; after all, the unlife of a childe is at risk. If a childe has already been created without permission, the prince may claim the childe to be of his brood, declare sire and childe outcast and throw them out of the city, or have both slain outright. At the prince's discretion, childer who are created and abandoned without being taught of their existence may be "adopted" by other vampires, who accept full responsibility no differently than if they had created the childer themselves. The Camarilla recognizes the prince's right to restrict creation, out of concern for overpopulation. Indeed, such is the Camarilla's concern for the increasingly strained vampiric population that, at a recent conclave, its leaders resurrected the institution of the scourge. Scourges patrol princely domains, finding Kindred created without permission and either expelling or destroying them.      In the Old World, this Tradition has several corollaries. The would-be sire's sire must be consulted, as must the prince who holds domain over the sire's haven (if there is one). European Kindred are noted for their complete lack of tolerance for those who transgress against this Tradition. Failure to gain the permission of any of these undead can result in the outright slaying of the childe, and possibly the sire as well. Disregard and lack of respect may be appropriate for American rabble, but they certainly do not belong in the Old World. THE TRADITION OF ACCOUNTING      If a vampire creates a childe, she is responsible for that childe, no differently than a mortal parent is for her child. If the childe cannot handle the burdens of vampirism, the sire must take care of the matter one way or another. If the childe threatens the Masquerade, either through ignorance or malice, the sire must prevent it. The sire must ensure that the childe is taught the Traditions and the ensuing responsibilities. And see to it that the childe will not constitute a threat to herself or the Masquerade upon her release. The sire is also responsible for protecting the childe. A prince is under no obligation to recognize a childe, and other vampires may kill or feed from a childe with impunity.      Before siring, a wise vampire considers the maturity of the childe-to-be. Will she be able to endure the changes to her body and soul? Will she understand what is being asked of her when the Traditions are recited? No sire wishes to be responsible for a childe forever (although a long childehood is not unknown), but releasing a childe before she is ready courts destruction.      Releasing a childe typically involves the sire introducing the childe to the prince who holds domain where the sire and childe live. The childe may be asked to recite the Traditions or provide other proof that she has been taught and understand them. If the prince, for whatever reasons, does not accept a childe, then the childe must find a new city. On occasion, a sire must also introduce the childe to his own sire, but this not always required.      After release, the childe (now a neonate) is permitted to live in the city with full rights as accorded by the prince's law and the Traditions. The release is considered a major rite of passage, much like a coming of age for mortals, for the neonate is responsible for his own actions. He will be watched carefully in the coming months; his actions determine whether he will be considered an "adult" and treated as one. THE TRADITION OF HOSPITALITY      Some call this the Tradition of "politeness": Knock before entering. This was done even before princes ruled cities, and continues to be done even if there is only one other Kindred i a domain. Simply put, a vampire traveling to a new city should present herself to the prince or other elder in charge in that city. This process can be frightfully formal, with a prince demanding some form of surety regarding the newcomer's status, politics and lineage, or as casual as meeting at Elysium and introducing oneself politely. Some princes require guests to announce their arrivals immediately, while other accept presentations weekly or within the lunar month. Certain very liberal princes even permit visitors to come and go unannounced as they please, requiring that a guest present herself only if she wishes to take up permanent residence in a city.      Those who choose not to present themselves take dangerous chances. If a city is currently facing Jyhad, a newcomer risks being mistaken for an enemy. A prince may invoke the Second Tradition to punish an unintroduced vampire with impunity. By the Fifth Tradition, a prince's right to question all who enter her domain is unchallenged, even if her power to expel may be thwarted occasionally. A prince also has the right to refuse entry to any who enter, particularly in the case of newcomers whose poor reputations precede them or who bring cumbersome baggage in the form of blood hunts, enemies or other potential threats to the city and Masquerade.      Such individual denials have become quite common in the modern nights, as princes grow paranoid and xenophobic in light of looming Gehenna. Some princes, when presented with a group of Kindred visitors, permit entry to certain members of the coteries while denying it to others, reasoning that, if the group is on some sort of sinister errand, its potential to harm will be lessened by dividing its numbers. Certain notorious Kindred may also find themselves unwelcome in some cities, while their companions are welcomes without reservation.      Not every vampire chooses to present herself. Vampires such as Inconnu, Methuselahs and even some elders refuse on the grounds that they do not acknowledge the prince's right and power over them, even if they are in her domain. Vampires of independent clans (such as Ravnos or Giovanni) may prefer not to have a prince's eye scrutinizing them. Autarkis and anarchs simply sneer at the prince; they aren't part of the party, so why should they bother knocking? And vampires who were made, then abandoned -- and increasingly common phenomenon -- may be unaware of the necessity. THE TRADITION OF DESTRUCTION      The Tradition of Destruction is perhaps the most easily abused and most hotly contested aspect of Caine's code. Few other laws have caused so much controversy in the halls of power, and this Tradition is forever under reinterpretation.      Most believe that the original meaning gave a sire right of destruction over his progeny (which is upheld by Kindred law). However, if "elder" is interpreted to mean "prince," the Tradition covers its modern meaning, and one many princes claim gladly. Only the prince may call for the destruction of another Kindred in the city. The Camarilla has upheld this claim for the extra security if provides a prince's reign. It is a right which many princes cling to, and they enforce it with brutal strength if need be.      Murder of another Kindred by one who is not granted the Right of Destruction is not tolerated. If the vampire is caught in the act, it usually means the destruction of the murderer herself. Investigation of such murder is usually swift and thorough, although the status of the victim does have some impact on this. Generally, the higher the rank of the victim, the swifter and more thorough the investigation. While the murder of two neonates may cause consternation in a community, it might take the death of an elder before the wheels turn in a more timely fashion. Some ancillae have taken this to mean that anarchs may be slaughtered with impunity. This is dangerous to assume; if nothing else, the prince may order the murderer slain for attempting to usurp her Tradition-given right.      Turmoil in the streets is considered by many to be one of the best covers for kinslaying, but the punishment for getting caught is still severe. The only time when a vampire ranked lower than an elder might receive sanctioning to kill another is during a blood hunt. ELYSIUM      Though most younger vampires consider the tradition of Elysium a stuffy, outdated custom, it is one of the more honored of the Kindred's traditions. A prince may declare portions of domain to be Elysium, places free from violence. It is here that many vampires come to pass the nights, debating, politicking and conducting intrigues among themselves for long hours. This is also where the Kindred business of the city takes place, and just about every vampire will have at least one occasion to visit Elysium, if only to speak with the prince or an elder. However, it is certainly an elders' playground, and the young who venture here are expected to remember that.      Elysium is said to be under the "Pax Vampirica," meaning that no violence of any sort if permitted to take place and that Elysium is neutral ground. While tempers may flare and heated words may be exchanged, rivals are expected to keep a leash on their tempers. When apologies don't work, offenders are usually shown the door and told to correct their behavior. If things do get out of control on the premises, the prince may punish the offenders through the invocation of the First Tradition.       Most areas of Elysium tend to be spots conductive to artistic or intellectual pursuits, such as opera houses, theaters, museums, galleries, university halls and the like. Occasionally, nightclubs or even certain Kindred havens are declared Elysium. Wherever one goes, one is expected to have some semblance of proper dress and manners, if for no reason other than the Masquerade. Elysium rules are simple:       1) No violence is permitted on the premises. (Many princes take this a step further and demand that no weapons be brought into Elysium, to prevent hot tempers from having ready means.)       2) No art is to be destroyed on pain of Final Death. ("Art" has been expanded to include the artist on occasion, making the vampires of Clan Toreador some of the greatest proponents of Elysium.)       3) Elysium is neutral ground. (With relation to Rule One; what happens off Elysium grounds is another thing, however, and the upstart neonate who insults and elder during Elysium had best have reliable transportation back to her haven when she leaves.)       4) Remember the Masquerade at all times. (This includes such matters as entering and leaving, taking a heated argument outside to cool, or hunting.)       It is also considered bad manners to show up to Elysium hungry. While refreshments are sometimes provided, often they are not, and hunting around Elysium grounds can draw suspicion. If a Kindred brings a guest to Elysium, she is responsible for that guest's behavior. MORE INDEPTH INFORMATION ON THE CAMARILLA POWER STRUCTURE THE INNER CIRCLE      The Inner Circle is the ideal cabal; it is the unobserved model for the "Secret Masters" so many conspiracy theorists speak of. The Kindred of the Inner Circle are those who pull the strings of the entire sect, creating justicars and casting them down with equal equanimity. No one knows who the vampires of the Inner Circle are, but none can deny that the Inner Circle is the true hub around which the Camarilla revolves.      Once every 13 years, the very eldest elders of the Camarilla's clans meet to discuss the sect's future direction and current business. Other vampires may be brought in to speak, but only the elders may cast their clans' votes. The lesser clans and bloodlines have no representation here, and the presence of others is at the Circle members' sufferance.      During this time, the members of the cabal appoint justicars (replete with wrangling, threats, bargaining and other such talk), consider and determine the Camarilla's direction for the next 13 years, and rule upon Camarilla-wide issues. Many believe that the members of the Inner Circle continue to correspond through the years, direction the justicars as necessary and meeting if circumstances demand it. None are certain how the members of the Inner Circle achieve their position, expect simply by surviving to be a ripe old age and ascending to monstrous power.      Who comprises the Inner Circle manages to remain one of the Camarilla's best-kept secrets. It is known that they are supposedly "the eldest" of their clans, but that definition is open to debate. Some believe the Inner Circle's composition has changed over the centuries as one clan representative or another met Final Death, went into torpor or simply went missing. Others believe that the members of the Inner Circle serve other factions in their clans' unlives; the Tremere, for example, suspect that a member of their Council of Seven sits with the Inner Circle, but as none have ever tested the theory, it remains speculation. Such secrecy is largely a matter of tradition, but in these nights it has become a matter of grave security. With the assassination of Justicar Petrodon, the vampires of the Inner Circle realize anew that they are the ultimate prize, and take no chances with their unlives.      Few Kindred, even the justicars, quite know what the Inner Circle does with most of its time. Many believe that they remain in touch with the elders of their clans, keeping their fingers on the changes within the rank and file and gathering news from their justicars so that they may consider what needs addressing at the next meeting. Optimistic vampires even believe that the Inner Circle Kindred occasionally teach their younger brethren, choosing one particular vampire as a designated successor against that inevitable night when a chair sits empty at the council table.      Those who have aroused the Inner Circle's great collective anger have usually done so in spectacular fashion, resulting in spectacular punishment. The most impressive punishment that can be leveled against an offender is a place on the Red List, essentially guaranteeing the criminal an eternity-long, Camarilla-wide blood hunt. The Inner Circle may call upon the justicars to add their strength to the hunt, who in turn call upon their many resources to hound an offender to the ends of the earth. THE JUSTICARS      These six mighty vampires are appointed by the Inner Circle to be their eyes, ears, hands and occasionally fists. Appointment is a long, drawn-out (and occasionally drown-out) process as each clan fights to place a strong member in perhaps the most powerful position any Kindred can hold. Too often compromise candidates win out, but occasionally the process achieves its stated goal and a truly deserving, powerful and dedicated vampire ascends to the position of justicar.      Sometimes, compromise candidates are ignored, or the Inner Circle attempts to manipulate them. Either action can backfire; those appointed to the position, even those who weren't expecting it, usually take up the mantle with full seriousness. Those who are ignored may quietly amass resources and allies behind the scenes, while those the Inner Circle attempts to misuse may bite the hands that feed them and proceed to demonstrate their grasp of the power that been given unto them.      Justicars enjoy immense power over Kindred society and the Camarilla across the board, excepting of course the Inner Circle. They alone have the ultimate power to adjudicate matters involving the Traditions, and do so on a grand level. A justicar may call a conclave at any time, either to make a ruling or with a peer to make joint decisions of sect policy. When one of these powerful vampires makes even a polite request, very few Kindred dare to refuse.      Justicars do not only serve as grim judges and agents of the Inner Circle. They encourage the social aspects of conclaves, going so far as to host conclaves so that Camarilla Kindred may meet others of their kind, meetings that might otherwise never occur without the opportunities of conclave. With their power, the justicars can ensure that a insane or despotic prince is removed before she does too much damage to the populace, or turn the tide of battle against the enemies of the Camarilla. A right or wrong word at the proper moment from a justicar can be better coin than gold or status for desperate Kindred.      In the end, though, justicars are regarded with awe and fear. Their wrath is terrible, and their power is immense. No Kindred dares to refuse them, even if it aids in that vampire's own destruction. They stride the Camarilla like colossi, and the shadow they cast is long indeed. The Justicars standing from 1998 to 2011 are: Brujah: Jaroslav Pascek Malkavian: Maris Streck Nosferatu: Cock Robin Toreador: Madame Guil Tremere: Anastasz di Zagreb Ventrue: Lucinde THE ARCHONS      Archons are the minions of the justicars, set to act in their names for whatever suits their purposes and needs. As no justicar can be everywhere he might want or need to be, an archon can make certain his presence is felt (if not seen). Archons have been part of the Kindred hierarchy for almost as long there have been justicars, although they were not officially named until sometimes in the late 1600's, mostly likely by the Brujah owing to the Greek origin of the word. Archons are typically chosen from the ranks of ancillae and "young" elders, who show some promise by their maneuvers in the halls of power. The tenures of Kindred appointed to the post last for as long as their employers wish to retain them, and the employer can become the office, not the person occupying the chair. On the other hand, some justicars select entirely new staff upon their appointments. Recently, the new Nosferatu justicar, in a veritable tantrum of paranoia, threw out all of Petrodon's archons, including Horatius Muir, who had served Petrodon since the latter's first appointment. Horatius has not taken the loss very well, and his fellow archons, both in and out of clan, fear that the former archon will seek gruesome revenge for the insult.      Not every archon strides into Elysium with her mission statement in hand and announces herself to be here on justicar business. Justicars often need watchers or other quiet workers in troubled cities, and the best ones simply appear, do their job and leave with as little fanfare as possible. Archons are not as far removed from typical Kindred unlife as their superiors. Most are able to insert themselves into city business without attracting much attention and gain the trust of others, who rarely suspect that their newfound compatriots are so powerful. Occasionally, justicars choose archons more for their particular insights into a subject, their skills or their political savvy, which does not always walk hand in glove with high profile. Princes have been known to object to such moles, but too much protest brings the notice of a justicar who wants to know what the noisy prince might be hiding. THE PRINCE      Ostensibly, the prince is the Camarilla's voice in the city she rules. In theory more of a magistrate or overseer than an absolute ruler, it is the prince who keeps the peace and makes the laws, whatever is necessary to keep the city orderly and safe from incursion. The prince wears many hats, including diplomat, commander in chief, lawmaker, patron of the arts, judge and Tradition-keeper. The position originally began with the strongest vampire in a given region claiming domain over it. Over time, certain privileges and responsibilities became attached to the position, either at the whim of the ruler or the demands of the ruled. The position reached its familiar modern form during the Renaissance. What exactly the princedom will evolve to in the future is the subject of much hushed speculation, but never when the local prince is within earshot.      There are several ways one can become prince of a city. One is to depose the old prince. This insurrection may take the form of anything from a bloodless, elder-supported coup to a full-scale war with the gutters running with blood. If a prince shows himself incapable of maintaining the safety of the city against incursion, he may be forced to abdicate by the rest of the Kindred. Another way is become seneschal and hope the prince either dies or is forced from office. Of course there are ways to help that sort of thing along, provided one doesn't mind a few risks that could spell Final Death if one is caught. If one is in a small town or a largely rural area with a scattered population, even a young Kindred may name himself prince. Many times, the elders prefer the relative safety of the cities, and find rural areas both dangerous and boring. Those young vampires who choose to brave the small towns occasionally set themselves up in a semi-structured organization, with the "prince" being the one who has the biggest gun or has earned the most respect. Such titles (Prince Garrett of the Finger Lakes Region, or Madame Charlotte, prince of the Seven Sisters Hills) sound more grand than they truly are, and rarely carry weight with the elders of nearby cities.      A prince is owed nothing by her "subjects." Indeed, once they follow the protocol of Tradition, most have plenty of other things to keep busy with. A prince rules only so long as she can enforce order, her subjects are sufficiently frightened of her might and the elders support her. If any of those factors disappears, her reign is at an end. On the other hand, if all's in place, then the Kindred of the city can count on being stuck with their prince for a good long while. The elders ensure that a prince's reign is maintained in the name of stability; turmoil in the streets endangers the Masquerade and risks Final Death. THE PRIMOGEN      The primogen is the assembly of elders in a given city. Each clan usually has at least one representative primogen (the title is used to indicate both singular and plural), in addition to any other elders of the clans who wish to sit in on the meeting. No one seems quite certain when the primogen body came into being, but most Kindred scholars interested in such things point to the councils of elders that have been part of the mortal communities for millennia. Where the organization came from, the primogen councils continue into the present nights as clan leaders, filling seats of remarkable power. As a result, the primogen are either a prince's greatest allies or his worst enemies.      Ostensibly, the primogen council is meant to be a legislative body, a representation of the opinions of the various clans with regard to the governance of their city. Such an assessment is correct in very few cities. Some primogen councils are missing one or more clans, their elders forbidden by princely edict to take their seats, or because the clans are composed entirely of younger vampires and the elders will not deign to acknowledge the clan's right to representation. Those primogen who are seated in many cities are less like an assembled body, a nest of nepotism, favor-trading, threats and treachery. In some cities, particularly those with small Kindred populations, the prince is often the primogen for his clan. In larger cities, this is not so -- those involved claim that the prince should be concerned with balanced governance of the city, and that serving as primogen divides his loyalties. Other Kindred point out that having a second clan member serving as primogen would seem to weigh matters in favor of that clan. No so, reply those asked. Some of the vicious disagreements between prince and primogen can be between two members of the same clan who happen to disagree on a particular policy.      The primogen can hold a great deal of power, whether or not it is granted them. Made up of elders who love their unlives with nigh-obsessive fervor, primogen councils can squash pretenders to the throne, weak princes and outspoken youth in the name of stability. It is their support that confirms a vampire as prince or sentences him to be food for the worms. If they wish, the primogen may drive a prince from office with their recalcitrance or votes of no confidence, or ensure a prince's long reign with their powerful support. Some primogen councils can become the governing body of a city, with the prince continually engaged in fighting with, cajoling, arguing or threatening them back into line. On the other hand, in cities where the princes are more powerful than most, insane or despotic, the council meets solely at the prince's whim and is often merely a figurehead assembly. THE WHIP      Sometimes, even the mot organized primogen can be overworked and stretched too thin with the demands for his time. Add to this a slow-moving discussion at clan meeting, recalcitrant clan members and general vote lassitude, and the task of primogen can become unmanageable for any lone Kindred. It was for these times that the position of whip was created.      The whip is not an official position within the hierarchy of the Camarilla, but rather a recent phenomenon that seems based almost solely in countries with a democratic legislature. Whips are used in the mortal governments to keep members of a political party informed as to each other's doings, to keep discussions productive and to round up the appropriate members when it is time for voting. In Camarilla cities, a number of clans employ whips for similar purposes. Princedoms within the United Kingdom and United States make the most use of the post.      A primogen may choose not to employ a whip if the situation does not merit it. After all, when the local branch of a clan numbers four, and one is serving as primogen, keeping the rest informed is usually a simple matter. On the other hand, in a large city with eight clan members, a whip can be very useful. Some clans have occasionally pressed their primogen to appoint whips when it become obvious that the primogen was overwhelmed with business. Whip appointments are usually conditional; often the whip is a Kindred who is of some influence within the clan so she will be listened to, but not to much that she potentially overshadows the primogen himself. A whip who begins to outshine his employer is likely to be replaced. Sometimes, a whip position may not be a reward but a warning. Since the whip is required to stay close to the primogen and mind his ways, appointing a troublemaker can be an effective way to put him on the hot seat and channeling his energies into something more constructive (or put him under the spotlight until he inevitably makes a mistake).      Whips in clan meetings serve to goad discussions along by whatever means necessary. This can include filling in details the primogen has inadvertently forgotten, shouting down more vocal clan members to allow the quiet ones a chance to speak up, insulting someone into blurting out his true opinion or throwing out the occasional inflammatory gambit just to get the ball rolling. Whips may also attend to those reclusive clan members who cannot or will not attend clan meetings for reasons of their own.      In some cities, the whip is viewed as the primogen's second, given authority to sit in primogen meetings if his master is absent, or standing at his right hand during the meetings, ostensibly to serve as "stenographer" for the clan. More often, the whip is taking notes on everything else occurring during the meeting that the primogen may not notice while speaking or dealing with the prince, such as clothing worn by the other primogen, gestures and mannerisms, tone of voice and reactions by those not primarily addressed. Such an observant whip can be worth his weight in gold when it comes time to interpret the meaning behind another primogen's uncharacteristic objection. THE SENESCHAL      In the mortal world, the seneschal as the keeper of the keys in a noble house, the minder of the affairs, the one who always knew what was happening and who was closest to the master's ear. It was the seneschal who was in charge when the master was away, and who took care of the estate in time of disaster. In the vampiric world, the position hasn't changed mush from its original inception. The seneschal is chosen to be the prince's personal assistant, the one who knows what's going on at any given moment, and (according to some wags) the one you really have to deal with to get things done. At any time, he may be asked to step into the prince's place if she leaves town on business, abdicates or is slain.      While the prince may wish to have final authority on the choice, a number of primogen councils have fought to ensure a seneschal candidate to their liking is installed. If the prince is seen as weak or is not well-liked, the fight becomes even fiercer. After all, accidents do happen, the primogen insist, and it were best that the next in line is someone worth having to avoid entanglements at such times. Princes insist that the choice is theirs to make, particularly when the seneschal is in such a sensitive position. They point to certain disasters in Kindred history regarding the seneschal, most often the Nuremberg Incident of 1836, when a Sabbat spy managed to achieve the post and the city narrowly avoided being completely overrun after he handed over the secrets he had learned to his cohorts.      For most seneschals, the job can be a completely thankless one. It may be seen as a stepping-stone up the ladder to greater things, but the rewards aren't always commensurate with the tedium and danger. A seneschal can be called on to be a secretary, clearinghouse of information, prince pro tem, advisor, sounding-board, recipient of vitriol, ambassador or point of contact for any new Kindred entering the city. Some princes may have other uses for their seneschals, such as sitting in on certain meetings as the prince's voice when the prince must be absent, or even to deal with certain matters which princes deem not worthy of their attention. For a prince busy with other concerns (such as hunters, Setites or Sabbat), a capable seneschal who can take care of the nitpicky details of running a city can be a godsend. If the seneschal is incompetent, however, he can be a nightmare. A seneschal unaware of the movements of new Kindred in the city may be in fact inadvertently holding the door for Sabbat troops, or one who has closed down a church on suspicion of harboring hunters may have just alienated the Nosferatu who made use of the place as well.      A number of seneschals have taken advantage of their positions, using them to become often the most well-informed Kindred in the city, even outstripping the harpies. Some, as clearinghouses of information, may selectively edit what their prince does and does not know (on a strictly need-to-know basis, with the seneschal of course deciding who needs to know what). Others may block items on the night's agenda if it suits their purpose, most often when the Kindred bringing the business has offended the seneschal in some way. As the seneschal is frequently closest to the prince's ear, he may inform the prince as he wishes regarding matters of business or policy -- lies of omission are a seneschal's stock in trade. If someone is offended with the way the seneschal handles business, the humble vampire may claim that he is merely the prince's voice, and shift the blame upward to an undeserving prince. A wily seneschal with ambition on his mind and a prince burdened with the cares of a large domain can be a lethal combination.      The selection of a seneschal has any number of criteria, varying from prince to prince, and from primogen to primogen. Some prefer tractability over trust, while others see some independence and common sense as ideal qualities. Few primogen have ever permitted a seneschal to be of the same clan as the prince, seeing it as an invitation to disaster in the form of clan favoritism. THE HARPY      The harpies are the gossip-mongers, the rumor mills, the status-givers. They are the word in the wrong ear, the ones who can make a vampire's unlife miserable for the sing of wearing an ugly tie or returning an insult. Many of the best (and most observant, the sharpest tongues, the wittiest) harpies are elder age, although not a few talented ancillae hold their own in these halls of hidden power. Neonates are rarely anything more than assistants and apprentices to established harpies, simply because they are too new to the nuances of unlife's etiquette to understand what's happening. A neonate who attempts to ascend to full harpy status too soon finds her betters turning on her mercilessly; most have the ambition verbally flayed right out of them by this treatment. If she's lucky, they'll simply let her embarrass herself.           Harpies are rarely appointed outright. Those with the necessary skills were often part of the elite social scene in life, spending their lives as famous gossips, dilettantes and socialites. As in life, these social butterflies hover where the beautiful people can be found, and simply fall in doubt what they did before. They are unimpressed with preening, demonstrate remarkable insight into both vampiric and human nature, and can boast an unerring ability to see through pretense and pose.      A leading harpy may choose to name an assistant or two, particularly in a city with a sizable Kindred population. After all, there are Elysiums occurring at both the Academy of Fine Arts and at the local Hard Rock Cafe. A major metropolitan city, such as Vienna or London, may contain at least six Kindred who are considered to be the main harpies, in addition to the 20-plus others who serve as additional eyes, ears and sources of material. In a smaller city, as few as two may hold the position, although the question of who is actually in charge is another matter (which no doubt is fought over incessantly). In smaller towns and rural areas, harpies are often completely dispensed with, but here and there one may find a vampire who presides over the diminished social scene like an undead Hedda Hopper. Most harpies tend to be of "social" clans, such as the Toreador and Ventrue, but not a few elder Brujah or slightly more lucid Malkavians have been known to occupy the seat as well.      Not only concerned with who said what to whom, harpies are also interested in the intricacies of Kindred etiquette. There is a right way to do things and a wrong way to do things, and the harpies make sure things are done right. Someone on the harpies' hit list often finds himself banned from all the premiere social gatherings, and it is not all that difficult to incur this sort of ostracism. Rudeness, crudeness, speaking out of turn, showing disrespect or blatant stupidity -- all of these can place a vampire squarely in the harpies' crosshairs.      While some might sneer that the disapproval of a few "old biddies" doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things, the harpies (and their victims) beg to differ. In an era where the most recent news can be passed nigh instantaneously between harpies along a web of gossip that staggers the imagination, the harpies in one city can assure an offender that he receives a less-than-cordial welcome in any city he visits. It is the harpies who assist with the brokering of and recording of prestation deals. Harpies are often called on to assist their princes when dignitaries visit. In these modern nights, the harpies are busy indeed, dealing with the ramifications of email as a proper methods of correspondence, the propriety of requesting an elder to step through a metal detector or the polite way to suggest that a potential disease-carrier hie himself to the lab for testing. THE KEEPER OF THE ELYSIUM      The job title is self-descriptive -- the Kindred is responsible for everything that occurs in Elysium and usually its environs as well. A Toreador wishing to schedule a recital, a Tremere giving a lecture on medieval alchemy or two Brujah who are hosting a debate regarding current Kindred involvement with the police -- all must speak first with the keeper. The keeper may cancel an event at any time, even minutes before it is to begin, on the grounds that it threatens security and the Masquerade. (Whether or not the claim is accurate is irrelevant; the keeper has that authority to use as she sees fit.) Such power, while not as impressive as the scourge's right of destruction, can be used to great effect; the vampire who has spent months putting himself up over a recital at Elysium only to have it blithely cancelled stands to lose a great deal of status.      Keepers may be of any clan; most are at least of ancillae status, which gives them the pull they need to hire or create sufficient security for Elysium. Contrary to popular thought, the majority of keepers are not Toreador. Such Kindred tend to get distracted from their duties too easily at Elysium's environs.      The job comes with heavy responsibility and very few perks. A keeper is responsible for everything that occurs within Elysium's walls on his watch (and occasionally off it too). While the position is a prestigious appointment, and it can garner a Kindred a great deal of status and recognition, it puts that Kindred under a microscope almost as intense as the prince's. Because the position requires the keeper to interact with mortals on a fairly regular basis, monstrous Kindred (whether in mien or demeanor) are never considered for the job, unless they have some way to disguise themselves. The appointment is also usually a conditional one -- the keeper can expect to be scrutinized for the several gatherings regarding his policies on the Masquerade, mortals, security and Elysium in general. The harpies are not kind to a failed keeper, if he's still around to accept their scorn.      On a nightly basis, the keeper must be certain Elysium abides by the major rules regarding the established Traditions and the Masquerade. He may be responsible for stopping weapons at the door, a job he often requests the sheriff perform. On occasion, he may need to play host, circulating among his visitors and making sure things are going smoothly. If the prince requests that refreshments be provided, it's the keeper's job to procure them. When several Kindred want to make use of Elysium to stage some event (such as dancing lessons, a debate or even a music recital), the keeper needs to juggle the social calendar to ensure that everyone gets a turn and that the Brujah's often-noisy debates will not be trampling the Malkavian performance artist's exhibit of silence. If a curious mortal peeks in the windows, or a hapless mortal security guard wanders into a Kindred gathering by accident, the keeper must see about removing the intruders neatly. If an incident occurs that attracts the wrong kind of mortal attention, the keeper needs to clean it up, and he may call on any necessary resources to do so. Relying on this sort of fiat too often, however, is a good way to draw a prince's ire, and the best keepers are often those who are noticed least.      "As is the keeper, so goes the Elysium," is a familiar saying around the halls of power, and it is quite true. A keeper who is continually paranoid about infiltrators runs Elysium with a grip that can approach a stranglehold, and presents gatherings that are reminiscent of a prison yard's rec time. A keeper who has a great interest in the arts may favor salon-style gatherings that welcome any with something to contribute, while one more interested with social interaction would encourage elder-supported meetings suggestive of the Algonquin Round Table.      Of all the positions in a city, this one is the most likely to change hands frequently. The position is very much a political football, kicked back and forth between prince and primogen. Furthermore, the role offers a Kindred tremendous opportunities to fail; sooner or later every keeper manages to offend somebody. A wise keeper knows when to resign; foolish ones hang in until the bitter end. If a vampire plays her cards right, she may hold the position of keeper three or four times within a few decades; talented keepers are often elevated into the role again and again. THE SHERIFF      While the sheriff's job description may vary from city to city, his primary function is to be the prince's "enforcer." He generally assists with the "muscle" aspects of ruling, doing everything from hauling offenders into court to keeping order on the streets and occasionally bouncing fools from Elysium. During wartime, the sheriff is often called on to be the war-chief, leading charges and coordinating the martial side of the fight. A sheriff may select deputies to assist him, who often act fully in his authority, but such appointments usually require the prince's approval.      Far and away, the Brujah and the remaining Gangrel provide the most sheriffs, although anyone with something of a martial bent may be selected. Since part of the sheriff's duties include watching for breaches of the Masquerade, a sheriff is also required to show a little brains in addition to brawn. Straight-ahead brawlers are becoming less common; operators who are precise in their applications of force have become the norm.      Keepers of Elysium and sheriffs can be each other's best friends or worst enemies. A keeper who insists on dealing with security herself at Elysium risks stepping on the toes of the sheriff, who believes that such an action indicates to the harpies he's incompetent. A sheriff who muscled into Elysium and conclave security without asking about existing plans may alienate the keeper, depriving him of much-needed support when it comes time to press for tighter security measures (such as heat sensors). On the other hand, when the two offices work hand in hand, particularly during conclaves, they can weave a web that could hold back the sea. Keepers and sheriffs often have a great deal to say regarding the selection of the other, and it is not unknown for a particularly tightly knit pair of Kindred to hold both offices jointly. THE SCOURGE      Some claim the position of scourge is a relic of medieval times, an older form of the sheriff, while others believe that the post was created only within the last decade (with an equally new-minted pedigree). However the scourge came to be, the office is now part of the landscape of many Camarilla cities. From Bern to Portland, scourges take their mandate to scour the borderlands and barrens of the major metropolises. Their targets are fledgling vampires created without permission, anarchs and those thin-blooded mules of the 14th and 15th Generations.      Proceedings regarding the scourge vary from city to city. Some princes grant their scourges the right of destruction to speed the process of purging along, while other princes demand that the scourge bring the night's "catch" to Elysium for judgment. This last comes in light of some recent tales of over-enthusiastic scourges attacking and killing vampires who had followed protocol and were known in the city, but happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The story currently circulating through Elysium describes a feral Gangrel scourge who encountered three Kindred in a derelict building in the barrens of Milwaukee. As he had been given full authority to destroy any Kindred he did not recognize, the scourge made quick work of the trio, who were unable to give much resistance. He brought back trophies of his work, to the consternation of the Tremere primogen, who recognized the person effects of three recently acknowledged neonates; apparently they had gone looking for a private place to perform a ritual. The prince initially refused to disbar the scourge, but the outrage of the primogen council and the wrath of the united Tremere clan forced him to reconsider.      Not every prince makes use of the scourge -- indeed, a number of princes (usually of smaller or less "prestigious" cities) see it as a dangerous and unnecessary office. The legality of the scourge is still under debate in a number of circles, particularly with regard to granting these gendarmes the right of destruction. Many sheriffs see the scourge as chipping away at the power, and as a result they can be the greatest obstacles to a prince or primogen who wishes to introduce the scourge to a city. On the other hand, some sheriffs see the scourge as taking care of a problem that occupies too much of their time when they could be dealing with an infinite number of other matters, such as Sabbat incursions or persistent hunters. A number of vampires, largely those who occupy the barrens on a regular basis and a surprising number of "salon" vampires, also see the scourge as a potential threat; a scourge gone bad or working for the enemy could be deadly, especially if the prince gives the scourge a lot of leeway in her dealings with the thin-blooded.      Scourges in general are not the most popular vampires around. Most are loners, and if they are not initially, the demands of the position soon ensure that they are. Few Kindred are comfortable around the local scourge, and even princes hold their hired exterminators at arm's length. Embittered and isolated, most scourges soon grow disdainful of Kindred company, shunning Elysiums in favor of "work." A few far-sighted Kindred (usually those who have some psychological work in their backgrounds) continually attempt to draw their local scourges into Kindred social life, fearing that without social contact scourges will become automatons, killing machines unable to tell the difference between friend or foe. Such efforts have met with mostly poor results. Some scourges scorn such "do-gooder" attempts as muddling with their thinking, while others find the forced jollity only emphasizes the gulf between them and their fellow Kindred. THE HUDDLED MASSES      Not every Camarilla vampire holds title; far from it, in fact. The vast majority of the sect's members attend to their own business. Some do have ambitions to achieve power within the sect. These vampires pay careful attention to matters political and may spend decades or even centuries plotting their ascents to power. Others avoid the matter entirely, presenting themselves to each prince in turn, then vanishing back down into the sewers or thaumaturgical labs.      The fact of the matter is that each vampire has eternity stretching before him, and he had best find himself something to do before the crushing ennui of the ages drives him mad. Active participation in politics is an option for only some of the Kindred; there are only so many titles to go around, after all, and promotion is a slow and bloody process. That means that the Kindred need to find other interests and outlets, all the while adhering to the Traditions and preserving the Masquerade.      The most common diversion for the Kindred involves dabbling with mortals. This interaction can take many forms, from indulging in the arts (all-vampire bands are surprisingly common) to meddling with corporations. Other Kindred try to resume or assume mortal lives, living among mortals in an attempt to further their agendas or stave off boredom. Most often, though, a vampire who decides to spend his nights interfering with mortals picks a particular field or institution -- one often mandated by the prince, who has no interest in seeing her subjects squabble over a particularly juicy industry -- and then sets about working with his plaything. Kindred grow protective of their mortal connections, tending them with the same care and passion that a gardener expends on a prized bonsai. It is often not a matter of the vampire actually caring for the specific area he has domain over (though there are exceptions) as it is a question of possession. Such vampires often take a great deal of interest in the night-to-night concerns of their connections, diving into the details as a means of distraction. Sometimes Kindred carry on mortal crusades beyond the grave, but sooner or later those concerns fade. The form of the vendetta remains, but the motivation shifts; sooner or later, the chase is what matters more than the goal. It is not uncommon for vampires who achieve goals they've been pursuing centuries to slip into torpor shortly thereafter; there's nothing left to interest them anymore.     On the other hand, there are those Camarilla vampires who have no interest in dealing with humans. The Masquerade is a convenient excuse to avoid interacting with humanity save at feeing time. These recluses are more interested in matters vampirical: thaumaturgical research, vampiric philosophy or artistic expression, or other endeavors only possible for those with unending lifespans. Like those Kindred who thro themselves into the Masquerade, though, vampires who stick to immortal concerns have an overriding passion for what they do. In the end, what matter is not so much what each Kindred does, but rather that they do so emphatically, to keep them from drifting aimlessly into madness and eternity. LEXICON      A different existence calls for a different vocabulary. There are titles, experiences and whatnot that are common matters to the Kindred that have no equivalent elsewhere -- and such things demand their own phraseology. Below is a listing of some of the more common terms used exclusively by the Camarilla to explain and define their nightly existence. Not every Camarilla vampire knows or uses all of these terms; many cling to humanity by refusing to adopt a vampiric vocabulary. In the end, though, the phrases below are what the Camarilla uses to help define the experience of its members, and thus itself.      Note: Many vampiric terms that are not Camarilla-specific can be found in Vampire: the Masquerade. All thing: A gathering of Gangrel, often called by the eldest clan member in a particular region. A smaller gathering is called a thing. Anarch: A vampire who has rejected the Camarilla to exist as an independent. The vast majority of anarchs are under a century old. Archon:A vampire in the service of a justicar. Archons are rarely of the same clan as the justicar they serve so as to avoid the appearance of favoritism, and are deputized with a wide array of powers. Most archons are blood bound to the justicar they serve. Ball:A gathering of Toreador and invited guests. Barrens:The areas outside a city proper that are uninhabitable by Kindred. Generally the Barrens start in the near suburbs and extend outward from the city. Blood Bond: The supernatural love created by the act of ingesting a Kindred's vitae three times. Bonds can rarely be broken, especially if they are periodically reinforced with more vitae. Blood Hunt:The process by which a prince declares another vampire to be outlawed, and the prosecution (in the form of an actually hunt) that follows. Breach:A violation of the Masquerade, usually punishable by death. Camarilla:The sect of vampires, theoretically universal, that defines itself by the Traditions and the Masquerade. Chantry:A communal haven-cum-workshop for a city's Tremere. Conclave: A gathering of the entire sect, usually called by a justicar. Convention of Thorns: The treaty that ended the Anarch Revolt. Coterie:A group of Kindred who work more or less in concert. Most coteries are made up of members of multiple clans, and few endure for more than a few decades. Court:The formal audience granted by the prince to his subjects, often given at Elysium. When a prince holds court, in theory any of the city's Kindred may approach him to present themselves, request boons or otherwise make requests for favor or action. Domain: A territory assigned to a single vampire, who then has primary rights to feeding, industry and whatnot within her domain. Destruction: The power of life and death over other Kindred. Possessed by a city's prince and occasionally bestowed on others in his dominion. Embrace: The act of turning a mortal into a vampire. Elysium: A haven of art and culture within a Camarilla city. Elysiums are, by long tradition, zones wherein combat or the use of Disciplines is strictly forbidden. Much of the harpies' work is done in Elysium. Final Death: The ultimate destruction of a vampire. Founders: The legendary group of Kindred who established the Camarilla. Ghoul: 1.A mortal (usually, but not always a human) who has been fed vitae and acquired a hint of vampiric power as a result. 2.The act of making someone a ghoul. Harpy: A de facto title given to the Kindred who sit in judgment on the rest of a city's social status. The harpies mandate the social pecking orders through innuendo, rumors, favoritism and other such tools. Inner Circle: The council of elders that controls the Camarilla and its policies. No one knows how many Kindred sit on the Inner Circle, let alone the clans and names of those who do so. Justicar: A roving representative of the Inner Circle charged with upholding the Traditions and laws of the Camarilla. There is one justicar from each clan, elected to a 13-year term by the Inner Circle and subject to replacement at the end of that term. Justicars have sweeping powers, including the right of destruction, to enforce the laws and Traditions. Keeper of Elysium: The vampire charged with upholding the sanctity and quality of a city's Elysium. Malkavian Madness Network:The poorly understood connection that links all Malkavians by mean of their shared altered perceptions.. Outside theorists postulate that the network has developed some sort of link to the Net, but details are understandably hard to come by. Masquerade: The Camarilla's strict policy of concealing the existence of vampires from the mortal world. Ordeal: A form of trial among the Kindred, wherein the accused undergoes some sort of test (combat, sunlight, etc.) in order to prove her innocence. Pioneer:The first Kindred into a city or area. Pioneers often set themselves up as princes, and call for reinforcements to help them maintain their holdings. Few pioneer princes last long; once they've stabilized their domains, most are rudely shoved aside by usurpers less inclined to take risks. Primogen:A member of the council of elders who putatively advice the prince of a city. The primogen council's actual power varies from city to city. Prince: The ruler of a city or its equivalent in the Camarilla; the supreme authority in local Camarilla affairs. The title applies to both male and female Kindred. Pyramid: Slang term for the formal structure of Clan Tremere. Rack:The prime feeding grounds in a given city. Often comprised of clubs, bars and shopping districts. Rant:A formal (in some sense of the word) gathering of Brujah. Red List:The listing of those Kindred whom the Camarilla most ardently desires to see purged from the face of the earth. Vampires on the Red List are considered under continual blood hunt. Retainer: A mortal or ghoul who serves a Cainite directly. Scourge: Title given to a Kindred charged by the prince with cleansing the city of unwanted, unauthorized vampiric rabble. Seneschal: A prince's right-hand vampire. The seneschal handles many of the night-to-night operations of a city. Sheriff: Kindred charged by a prince with the duty of upholding the laws and Traditions of the city. Spawning Pools:Breeding chambers for ghouls used by the Nosferatu. The water of the pool is tainted with Nosferatu vitae, making ghouls of any and every living thing therein. Over centuries, these creatures can grow to monstrous size and power. Traditions: The most sacred and basic laws of the Camarilla, established at the same time as the sect. Vitae: Blood. More specifically, Kindred blood, but the definition is not an absolute one. VULGAR ARGOT Just because there's a word for something doesn't mean that everyone wants to agree on that particular terminology. The younger Kindred of the Camarilla have their own phraseology, which they use to establish their own identities and to confound their elders. Most of the following terms are Camarilla-specific in their usage, but as slang knows no borders, many of these have cropped up in unlikely places. Angstburger: Over-the-top moping about one's vampiric condition. Usage: Dominic was chewing on a big old angstburger at the Goth club tonight. Apeshit:Frenzy. Ash: A vampire who's been destroyed. Usage: Tomasino pissed off the sheriff; now he's ash. Sometimes used as a verb, meaning "to kill." Bloat: Taking more blood than one needs, resulting in reddened eyes, a ruddy complexion and the continual shedding of tears of blood. Blooded: A vampire. Boojum: Any other supernatural creature, usually non-vampiric. 'Bot: Someone clearly acting under the influence of Dominate. Often reserved for mortals reduced to automaton status. Brightening Sunsets: Another term for a destroyed Kindred. It refers to the way in which excess dust and ash produce particularly brilliant coloration. Usage: Lisette crossed the Nosferatu elder, so now she's brightening sunsets. Cannibal:A vampire who indulges in diablerie. Cleanup:Repairing an Oops, or otherwise working to protect the Masquerade. Clockwatcher:A vampire who worries excessively about the approach of dawn. Collar:Blood bond. The term has a distinctly sadomasochistic inference attached to it. Cub Scouts: Archons. Dessert:Feeding for pleasure, not need. Doornail: As in, "dead as a." Used to refer to a corpse left behind. Usage: We went out for supper and dropped a couple of doornails in the river. Do over: The process of erasing memories from a mortal's mind. Often used to cover up evidence of feeding. Fossil: Derisive term for a vampire who is stuck, stylistically, in an anachronistic mode of behavior. Often used to refer to elders. Futon:Coffin. Fuzzy:Lupine. Grandpa: A member of a vampire's lineage more distant than her sire. Half-breed: A ghoul. Sometimes phrased as "Half-Blood." Happy Meal:he process of drinking from a mortal who is intoxicated or otherwise under the influence of some sort of controlled substance. Inky: A hunter, specifically a member of the Inquisition. John Law: The sheriff; less frequently, the scourge. Juice: Vitae. Leftovers: Blood taken from a corpse. Laid:Fed. Lunch:Vitae, or the mortal from whom the vitae is obtained. Usage: I met lunch at the coffeehouse tonight. Lupine Alley: Travel arteries that run through Lupine territory, and are notoriously dangerous for vampires to traverse. Monster: A vampire who terrorizes younger, weaker Kindred. Sometimes spelled Monsta, usually by poseurs. Munchies:Hunger for vitae after heavy use of Disciplines. Nibs: The prince or any other important vampire. Not intended as a compliment. Oops: A breach of the Masquerade. Usage: We had a little Oops tonight, but it's taken care of. Perv: A vampire who insists on indulging in mortal sexuality to mask the process of feeding. PF: Short for "pity fuck." A kindred who receives the Embrace because of guilt or pity on the part of his sire. Prefrosh: A mortal who is a candidate for the Embrace. Princeling: A derisive term for the leader of a coterie. Rabbit: A vampire who only feeds on animals. Animal blood is sometimes known as rabbit food. Rag: The weakest vampire in a coterie. Recruiting: Breaking the Masquerade so as to prepare a mortal for the Embrace. Renfield: A long time ghoul, usually one who has far exceeded normal mortal lifespan. Rug: A dead Lupine. Alternately, a dead Gangrel. Sabbot: A derisive term for the Sabbat. Pronounced "SAA-bet," usually in some form of ridiculous accent. Sand Castle: An unsafe haven or vulnerable domain. Scoutmaster: A justicar. Shovelhead:Sabbat vampire. Snap: A broken collar. Soy: Vitae taken from an animal; a less-filling and tasteless substitute for the real thing. Speed Bumps:Mortals or inexperienced ghouls pressed into combat against vampires. Starfucker: A vampire who makes habit of feeding from the rich and famous. Suntanning: Being staked out for the sun. A common punishment used by princes on rebellious Kindred. Teardrop: A Kindred who kills mortals on a regular basis. Possibly derived from certain mortal gangs' custom of tattooing teardrops on the cheek of gang members who have committed murder. Tentacle: A hideously deformed vampire, usually a Tzimisce. TFBS: Bela Lugosi's Dead, by Bauhaus. Nearly universally loathed by all Kindred, who have simply heard it too damn many times for the joke to be funny anymore. Trashman: A vampire who feeds on the homeless and other human detritus. The term derives from such Kindred's tendency to pick up supper from alleyways or curbsides. Uncle: An elder who takes an interest in or who patronized a younger Kindred. Sort of a vampiric sugar daddy. Valentine: 1. A Kindred who uses his powers to achieve mortal celebrity, often in violation of the Masquerade. 2. The mortal lover of a Kindred, usually the source of much angst. Vector: Vampire who spreads mortal diseases; so called because the CDC has taken an interest in the way in which blood-based diseases have been spreading. Vlad: A Kindred who acts in stereotypically "vampiric" fashion. Vlads usually wear capes, flaunt their powers and speak in strained Eastern European accents. Few last very long. Whack Job: Malkavian, or a victim of Dementation. Wolfie: A vampire, often a Gangrel, who prefers spending time in a non-human shape. Yawp: The claims of a prince or other Kindred who can't hold his territory. © 1999 White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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