These dark times, from maidens to knights, from kings and peasants, this is our world. We are the nobility, though some would shun this or call those of us whom desire to rule�well something very disparaging I assure you. What is so wrong with wanting to carve out your own niche in this tumultuous world we inhabit? Nothing, in my estimation, nothing at all.
These truly are decadent times full of fashion and caste; aristocracy is key. Being one of the mundane is to be but a mere tool. And we are all tools; the great Jyhad is played now. The Ancients use us as they are in turn used. We use and fight each other and for what? Why all the squabbling over a piece of land? Simple: we are if nothing else territorial creatures. We protect what is ours, and defend it heatedly.
We keep to ourselves mostly, some of us living far out of the cities, keeping our herds of Kine well tended. Why then would they want to come to a city and deal with nagging unhappy children? City life can be testy, like a nagging cough that persists on lingering. Princes struggle nightly to keep the dozen or so Kindred within their domain from running rampant and Embracing the Kine at the drop of a hat. More often than not, a sire will loose an ignorant childe; I do not pity them for their blunders. Teach them well and they will never fail you, fumble their teachings and they will feel the burning of the sun upon their preternatural flesh.
Gatherings can be grand occasions, and more often than not groups will corner themselves up and whisper about Gehenna or a myriad of other troublesome matters. You see, we do not change, but we gossip like old hens that have nothing better to do then gripe.
The Embrace, the bestowing unto someone of this blessing, this curse, this immortality. Just why are any of us chosen? Could it be that when we were living beings it was in fact our living essence that attracted our future Sires to us? It could be any number of things, from knowledge to beauty or simple anger. I find that it�s a blessing that most Cainites� can�t remember their Embrace. To those who can it�s a horror they cannot awake from. Or perhaps, just perhaps, we are all walking around in the most vivid dream imaginable. Ah, but that is as they say total fiction.
This is all to real, the craving, the drive for the living blood which sustains us, beckons like some twisted beacon in the dead of night. The terrible pull, the lull of the heart as it ceases to beat, then death. How peaceful they look in their shrouds of death, how beautiful in death, true death. And you gave them this release, this end to a life full of disease and death, of power struggles where one can be one Lord�s property one month, then someone else�s in a fortnight. We aren�t dead, we aren�t alive, but at least our tender victims know that death we should have known as mortal men and woman. Ah, but this is me rambling on about things that in time you will come to understand.
I must find it, that legened called Golconda, I must find it before the others do. To be spared this curse, to no longer feel the prangs of hunger, to hear it course through their hot living tissue. Yes, to find peace! Forgive me father for I have sinned again and again in blood. I have bore the weight, dealt the blows, destroyed mine enemies, been worshiped like a God. I will find it no matter how many miles I must travel, no matter my trials, my salvation will come...
Cainites�.Kindred�we are eternal.
