Vampire: The Masquerade PLEASE NOTE, THIS IS NOT WHITE WOLF CANON. 15 Post(s) on this Topic Subject: Antediluvian History Saulot - 01/13/2005 21:52:56 All right, I am going to start with the re-posts of my old writeups. For those who have not seen these, or who don't remember them, they are non-canon. The published White Wolf books that I own or have otherwise read, are used as guidance, but I have taken the liberty to change, drop, and add details as I have seen fit. The emphasis is on making the Antediluvians into believable people, who just happen to also be godlike forces of unnature. After all, many pantheonic-type deities (Greek, Norse, etc.) were very human. A few minor edits have been made before reposting, but these are basically the same as what was on the old forum. The first repost will be my story of the Ventrue Antediluvian, because he never got much real attention Al-Mahri, The Once and Future King The proud Ventrue Clan claims no Antediluvian. As the core of the Camarilla, these vampires must officially deny the existence of the Antediluvians. Even those Ventrue who secretly believe in the old gods publicly maintain that they must all be dead by now. Nothing, not even a vampire of the Third Generation could have survived for more than ten thousand years, they argue. Most Ventrue agree wholeheartedly—at least while in the company of their clan members. Rational minds know that Antediluvians are the stuff of myth, but less sound minds whisper in safe, hidden places. What place is safe? Can anywhere be hidden enough? A Born Prince The noble was born to one of the wealthier families, the first fruits of that line. From the beginning, he had the best the First City had to offer. No need of his went unfulfilled. But this was no spoiled child, for the young noble lived up to all his responsibilities. He was an able leader. The servants respected him, and he led the warriors in battle against the nearby settlements that dared question the authority of the First City. The young noble was fit for any task that was thrown at him. Some even said that he was fit to be a king. At times, the noble wondered why his family did not rule the city. He resented the secret rulers of the city, knowing in his heart that he would make a far more able ruler. Obviously, the rulers thought the same thing themselves, as they were quite eager to make the noble into one of their own. The noble was ready to accept the Embrace on his own terms, ready to accept the mantle of kingship being thrust upon him, but that as not the way fate would have it. His sire made him understand that while he was a ruler of men, he was but a childe among the Damned. And so the young noble labored under the will of his sire, a prince made into a slave. He yearned for freedom, but he also knew that this could not last. One day, his sire would have to recognize the obvious facts of their existences and resign his position of superiority. One day, the young noble knew, he would rule the residents, both mortal and immortal, of the glorious First City. Rightful Inheritance The young noble looked on at the foreign folk and commoners of various sorts that the Second Generation took as progeny, and was appalled that the gift of power was given so casually. Surely, he had been chosen for his royal destiny! What destiny did these mongrels have? And so the young noble scorned his peers, laughing at their pitiful plans of revolt, mocking their resentment of true authority. He knew that one day they would be punished, for they were unworthy of the blood of royalty, vitae. Finally, the Highest King of All chose to wipe the unworthy from the face of the earth, and unleashed a great flood to do just that. But this destruction was not complete, and many of the same creatures that had harassed the noble in the First City lived on, renewing their plans for rebellion against their sires. At first, the noble rejected these plans, enraged that they would plot against their natural rulers. But later, he began to understand the situation a little bit better. Surely this coming revolt would be Divine Providence, he assured himself. It was finally his time to rule. The young noble watched as the Second Generation were slain, and prepared to become a king. Assuming the Throne After the Second Generation fell, Al-Mahri the King became lord over the Kindred. In order to assure his power and to protect himself from the jealous rage of his bastard peers, Al-Mahri chose Lucian and Arikel to rule beside him. The Second City was even more glorious than its predecessor. At Al-Mahri’s request, Zahra shaped the great buildings and sculptures, while Narsi cultivated great gardens. But all was not right, and the King had to contend with the scheming of the jealous Sutekh, and with Abaddon playing devil’s advocate. As the city’s dark fate drew nearer, he heard whispers in the shadows, warning him of rebellion. Al-Mahri grew more and more cautions, knowing that the jealous Antediluvians of the Second City would try to seize his power. When the great war against the demon-kindred came, he was sure one of his rivals had a hand in that calamity. The next conflict was greater yet. A great rebellion burst forth in the Second City, driving the whole region into madness. Al-Mahri strived vainly to find a way to save his beautiful city, but the envious members of the Third Generation would not allow it. The rebellion ended when Sutekh and Mekhet imprisoned Al-Mahri and his three childer, Ninmug, Loz, and Nergal, in a grand tomb, in which they would be banished into the world of the dead, to sleep for all eternity. Interregnum But glorious destiny intervened again. The rebels had either forgotten or been unaware of Al-Mahri’s fourth childe, Veddartha. Loyal Veddartha saved his sire from the wicked plans of Sutekh and Mekhet, and hid him away in secret, while the other members of the Third Generation rejoiced in Al-Mahri’s death. Al-Mahri was brought into a secret vault beneath the desert sands, to rest and regain his former strength. Veddartha tended to his sire, a worthy childe of the Great King. When Al-Mahri awakened, he was glad to see his loyal childe, but sad to see the wreck of his grand city. He knew that he could not yet rise again in his glory, not until the other Antediluvians could be subdued, and made to acknowledge their true master. To keep his life a secret he gave Veddartha the gift of his will, his plans, and his essence. The King then returned to his long slumber. From that point on, Veddartha was charged with making sure his master’s plans came to fruition. Veddartha plotted and planned in Al-Mahri’s stead, waging the Great Jyhad for him, and even allowing Al-Mahri to Embrace by proxy. Veddartha became Al-Mahri’s avatar, in a manner of speaking, doing the King’s will while he slept. Nobles by Blood The spawn of the First Ventrue spread across the world, ready to prove themselves worthy of the vitae of their mighty sire. They became the rulers of the Damned, ruling both mortals and vampires alike. At times they warred with the other clans, and at times they ruled the other clans by right. Some knew of the mysterious Veddartha who moved among them, but none knew who he was or heard of his true purpose. After ages, the Great King was forgotten by his clan. Those that acknowledged his existence assured themselves that he was long dead. The Clan of Kings could accept no ruler. The Ventrue eventually became instrumental in the founding of the Camarilla. In this sect, the Ventrue both hid from and ruled over the mortals. In alliance with six other clans, they were the true lords of the night; nobody could challenge their strength. The Ivory Tower was the epitome of Cainite society, and it was also the symbol of the Ventrue Clan’s power. No other clan could achieve the amount of influence that they held in the sect. But times have changed since the nights of the Camarilla’s prime. A clan has seceded, and the Ivory Tower’s foundations are weakening. Many Ventrue whisper stories in secret, away from their clan-mates, about Gehenna, the Final Night. Some even worry that maybe, just maybe, they might have a Clan Founder after all. Long Live the King Sleeping beneath the desert sands, Al-Mahri has had eons to recuperate from his last battle, and to regain his awesome strength. The other Antediluvians have unjustly plotted to rule this world, in defiance of the true king. Soon, the end of the world will come, and Veddartha will awaken his master in order to report to him the state of the world and the status of their plans. And like a Grandmaster of chess, the King will carefully plan his final moves. The Ventrue Antediluvian has a great advantage over the rest of the Third Generation: nobody believes in him. He has convinced the world that he is long dead, a legend from a bygone era. The only hint of his existence is that slight fear in the back of one’s mind that many vampires have felt, as they doubted whether they were really doing their own will, or that of others unseen. Al-Mahri has spent millennia preparing, both in his sleep and through his childe Veddartha, his plans to subdue the other Antediluvians. Once that task is complete, the King will take his place as the world’s rightful ruler. When the End Times come and the Ancients gather in the Last City, Gehenna, a great basalt throne will rise from the ground, bearing the ruler of all vampires. None of the other members of the Third Generation have dared to imagine that Al-Mahri will once more be seated upon the throne.

Subject: Antediluvian History Saulot - 01/13/2004 22:28:39 Dracian, The Lord of Lies The Ravnos Antediluvian has had among the most spectacular and well-documented effects on the World of Darkness of all the Third Generation. Only a couple of others have had their deeds covered in greater detail. Despite the well known events of the Week of Nightmares, however, this Antediluvian is as much a mystery as any of the others. There are many tales describing what he had been and how he became the raging monster he would be known as, but very few remember who he really was. And those that do remember are far more likely to break your body and drink your heart’s blood, then to tell you a little story. What follows might be the story of the Ravnos Antediluvian, or it might just be another lie… Born of Lies Illegitimate son of an illegitimate son, the boy was born into an impoverished family. The pain of hunger was far more common then the satisfaction of a full belly, and living meant either begging or stealing. Despite these hardships, however, at least they were a family. The boy took to stealing, and earned whatever little food he had. His talents made him an asset to the family, and his father tended to listen to the boy more often than he should have. Double-crossing his brothers for that extra bite of bread, blackmailing his mother for kicks, and assuring that his sisters were subjected to every sort of foul treatment out of sheer malice, the boy was a young man before his father finally wised up and threw him out of their makeshift dwelling to wander far away. The young man wandered for a long time before finally coming to the First City, famous for miles around. He hoped to find a city full of foolish rich men, whom a clever man like him could prey on. Unfortunately, in the First City, all mortals were victims. Things went well at first, until he chose the wrong house to break into. If he had been a local, he would have known why the nobleman Irad slept during the day, and certainly would not have been audacious enough to break into his haven. No number of stuttered lies could save him from his fate now. Irad saw in this bold and ruthless man a potentially useful tool. The elder had long ceased trusting the existing members of the Third Generation, and hoped this childe would make an excellent spy. And so, the young man was made one of the Damned, a predator to whom humans were simply prey and playthings. Maybe he had not changed all that much at all. Dabbling in Deceit Now Dracian had always been a selfish man, and becoming a vampire only made this worse. He leaped at the opportunity to hear the plans of the Third Generation neonates and then betray them to his sire. But then, he became enamored by those plans. He could be his own master, and do as he wished for all eternity. All he had to do was get rid of his sire. There never was much of a question of what he would do, after that. Besides, the Third Generation had legitimate grievances, he told himself. The Second Generation abused them mercilessly, making them slaves, and filling their heads with all sorts of lies. They were only going to get what they deserved. Caine looked on in dismay, and the One Above looked on in wrath. The depravities of the race of Caine had earned them a Great Flood to purge the earth of their kind. The conspirators waited out the flood, sacrificing lesser creatures so that they could be strong. When the waters subsided, the Second Generation was weak, unaware. The neonates pounced on them as if they were prey, but even afterwards, Dracian felt something was missing. He could not help recall the night when his grandsire had visited Irad and himself. “Dracian, you are selfish and proud,” Caine had muttered, “If you do not learn to look away from yourself, mark my words, you will never know satisfaction.” In Search of Truth His sire dead and gone, Dracian was a lost childe. As the Antediluvians built the Second City, Dracian searched in vain for a way to fill the emptiness in his soul. Sometimes he prayed, but never for long, for he knew that gods and priests were all liars. Sometimes he listened to Saulot’s stories from his travels, but never for long, for he did not care for parables and riddles about enlightenment. Most often he walked in the wild with the woman that legends call Ennoia, trying to find a new secret, or trying not to be the self-obsessed bastard that he was. War came to the Second City, first against outsiders, and then among the city’s residents. Dracian was always ready to save himself, and so he went on one of his wilderness treks when things were getting particularly bad. Ennoia chose to follow him, and he told her that they would explore a wilderness that she had never before imagined. Dracian was going into the East, to find that elusive answer for himself. He would learn it without having to listen to stupid riddles and wasting time meditating. He would find satisfaction. The Most Skillful Lies of All It has been said that any two vampires who are in close proximity will always turn against each other given enough time. Ennoia actually worried about Dracian. Dracian only worried about Dracian. Eventually Ennoia returned west. Good riddance. She did not deserve enlightenment. It was Dracian’s hard work that had got them there, and he did not need her stealing his glory. Unfortunately, the demons of the East guarded their secrets well, untrusting of this deceitful Cainite. Dracian, for his part, trusted no one, as he was undeserving of trust himself. So finally Dracian sat down on a rock in what would one day be India, waiting for enlightenment to come to him. He listened hard and heard the voices of the sky, of the fire, of the water, of the forest, and of the mortals. When he had listened for an age, he received his enlightenment. He heard that his immortal soul was the only real thing. Everything else was illusion, lie. Yes, the words of others, his body, even the world, they were all lies. A voice in his head affirmed these things, telling him they were true indeed. The demon in his mind told him that the easterners had lied to him, that he could gain enlightenment. The demon in his mind told him that Saulot had lied to him; Saulot had his own demon teaching him enlightenment. Truth, the demon in his mind told him, was only the most convincing lie of all. If everyone else imposed their lies on him, Dracian wondered, why should he not impose his lies upon the world? As Dracian sent his lies forth into the world, the demon in his mind roared with delight. A Legion of Liars And Dracian gathered his childer to him, calling the old ones and embracing new ones. He taught them all how to lie so that everybody would believe them. At first, his childer stayed near him, fighting his war, punishing the eastern demons for trying to deny him enlightenment. Later, his childer left him, and Clan Ravnos spread across the world, encountering the other clans, weaving elaborate lies, and listening to the demons in their own minds. Eventually, Dracian fell asleep, exhausted from lying and trying to sort out the lies that the world told him. The Ravnos in India told legends of Zapathasura, the Accursed Monster, created by the gods to destroy the eastern demons. The Ravnos among the Rom, in years to come, would speak of Ravnos, childe of Kaen, the father of Gypsies and the Ravnos Clan. Some still whispered stories of Dracian the bold and reckless thief. But Dracian slept, as his blood was spread to the ends of the earth. One Last Lie Sensing the spilled blood of his childer, and tormented by the baleful glow of an awful Red Star, the Ravnos Antediluvian arose from the floodplains of Bangladesh in 1999. He was tired, angry, hungry, and driven nearly to insanity by the dreams and illusions that had tormented him for eons. All manner of creatures did battle with the Ravnos Antediluvian in a Week of Nightmares, as he did his best to sort out his lies from “reality.” The barriers between worlds broke down in Bangladesh, and the terrain bore the scars from those times when the will of the First Ravnos clashed with reality, and reality lost. Finally, the Ravnos Antediluvian was destroyed by the light of four suns, after terrorizing the world as an unstoppable force, threatening to consume all while searching for satisfaction. Dracian is dead. He will never live again. Then again, if the soul is immortal, and everything else is a lie, does being dead really matter? If it is all lies anyway, is he really any worse off than before? Lies are everything, and the greatest among us are those who tell the greatest lies. Besides, he has told so many lies already. Could it really hurt if he told one more?

Subject: Antediluvian History Saulot - 01/13/2005 23:13:54 Kronos, Father Time Of the Antediluvians lost to the realm of legends, one who is often whispered about is the Brujah Antediluvian. Not Troile laying in torpor beneath Carthage, but the real Brujah Antediluvian. According to legend he was slain ages ago, in the nights of the Second City, and was then lost to the flow of time. Time… …The Brujah Antediluvian has been referred to by many names and titles over the ages: Brujah, Ilyes, the Reaper, Saturnus, Harvester, and Kronos, Father Time. Time Marches On In ages long past, one farmer lived an especially long and hard life. Every year, he went through the motions, harvesting his crops as he was expected to. All the joy he had once derived from his occupation, from life itself, had long since faded away, as had his wife, his children, and everyone else he had loved. He sometimes wondered why he had outlived them all, sometimes praying to and sometimes bitterly cursing the gods for letting him live so long without any of the emotions that had made life worth living. But he had no fear. After all, time consumes all things. And so he continued, sickle in hand, moving through the fields every year, until he lost even the anger, bitterness and hatred that had sustained him for the latter parts of his life. And he truly had nothing left. Death should have been his. By all that is right and holy, death should have been his. But the gods still mocked him, and now others did too. When the stranger came, he offered the farmer nothing but scorn and torment. The farmer had no rage, but he did have hope. He hoped that by provoking the stranger to kill him, death would be his at last. How could this hope have gone so horribly wrong? He received death at last, but then he lost it. When he rose again, he rose without life, physically dead, reflecting the emotional death he had suffered so long ago. Time consumes all things, even the bodies of the dead, but not the half-dead thing that the farmer had become. Trapped in an unholy stasis, eventually he became reconciled to the fact that death had never been meant for him. He tried to feel bitterness and hate, but he could no longer feel these emotions, as he had long ago given up the illusion that life was remotely fair. Rage was the only emotion he ever felt again. The Rage of the Titan-God The farmer was dead, and a god was born. Mortal expectations cast aside, and without having to farm for food, the godling set out to learn all about the world around him. He followed the vampire who had mocked him and cursed him, but only because he had nothing else to do for the time. He had nothing to occupy him except watching and learning. Through his observations, and the occasional scornful teaching of his sire, he learned to harness the twisted powers of the Damned. He lived for a time in the First City under the rule of Caine, the farmer who scorned God, respecting and even seeing something of a role-model in him. But underneath his calm, emotionless façade, the godling’s rage was ever-present. Finally, his time came. He heard the rumors and bided his time. For God so hated mankind that He gave endless waters, so that everyone who opposed him would perish. The Get of Caine and that of Seth were to be wiped off the Earth. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Like a cruel parody of Noah and his family, some of the vampires survived the death-bringing waters. Caine was gone, and with him, the one elder whom the godling respected. The Second Generation and some of the Third played games of authority, but others conspired in secret. Why should gods serve any master? And so the children slew their parents, and the godling brought death to the beast that had cheated him of death. His rage was satisfied, so he could return to his observations. He had outlasted the last of his passions, and it was good. The End of the Golden Age The rebels built the Second City, and established themselves as gods over the mortals. At first, Kronos scorned Caine’s law against Embracing, for who could command a god? Eventually, though he grew scared. He had slain his sire; could not one of his own childer slay him? Kronos continued to study the world, and especially that most elusive of forces, time, but the old farmer became wary of embracing childer. Those whom he had embraced, he slew. And when the mortals sacrificed their children to him for use in his experiments, he often embraced them only to devour these childer when his experiment was finished. Something went wrong. One escaped, and confirmed his fears. The vampire known to legend as Troile slew Kronos and drank his soul. War fell upon the Second City as sires and childer battled again. When the conflict was over, the clans, including Troile’s clan, scattered to the four corners of the earth. Time Consumes All Things… And just like that, Kronos was finally dead. Troile’s inheritance was the rage that had once been Kronos’ only passion. But Troile was not the scholar that her sire had been, though some of the Brujah would be. The Brujah spread to foreign lands and played at Jyhad with the other clans, forgetting even the name of the farmer who had once begged for death. The Learned Clan, philosophers, warriors, and kings, became one of the thirteen great clans of vampires, securing its place in vampiric society. The glory of the Brujah clan culminated in Carthage, the city where vampires and mortals coexisted in perfect harmony. Or was it the city where the vampires committed the most awful of atrocities in service to demonic masters? Who knows? Carthage is no more. Time consumes all things, after all, and Carthage has been lost to the passage of time. …Even the Gods Themselves When Troile first became a member of the Third Generation, she basked in her new found power and glory. She had become one of the gods, and no one would ever be her master. But she was an emotional childe, and emotions made her weak. Her rage earned her enemies, and her love made her a slave. The Ventrue Clan warred with her brood and the vampire Moloch became her closest confidante. Moloch the Baali, who certainly was somewhat responsible for the cesspool Carthage became, damned himself and Troile too. That is assuming, of course, that she was not damned already. Even before the battle of Carthage, Troile was not alright. Many times, she was not quite herself. At first these episodes were infrequent, but as time went on, they grew closer and closer. Eventually they were like clockwork. Her mood became dark. She lost all interest in her lover, her brood, and her wars. Sometimes she even sired odd childer: passionless freaks with empty eyes and a strange talent for warping time. Troile never got to understand these phenomena, however, before her great travesty. The last war between Rome and Carthage ended in utter defeat as the legions assaulted Carthage in the name of the Senate and People of Rome, the Ventrue and Toreador slew Brujah and Children of Haqim wherever they could find them, and the Dionysian’s Lunatic Eruption drove the entire city insane. Troile and her lover Moloch, along with several Brujah Methuselahs, went into Torpor under the once great city, while the Romans and the Ventrue salted the fields so that nothing could ever rise from them again. Time Heals All Wounds In the sleep of the ages, Troile’s strange episodes grew more and more frequent, though she was blissfully unaware of them. Eventually they grew constant. Troile, when she awakens, will still be aware of everything around and inside her body, but she will have no control over her body. The Titan’s consciousness is dominant at all times now, and Troile can only look on, as he uses her body for his purposes. Stupid childe. She should have known better. After all, time consumes all things. When the Titan awakens the first to suffer his wrath and satisfy his thirst will be Troile’s lover Moloch. The fact that she felt the need for a lover is proof, as far as the Titan is concerned, that Troile was never worth the vitae he spent on her. After feasting on Moloch and any other nearby vampires in torpor, Kronos will rise from the cold earth to greet the undeserving world again. Ritually salted earth might have been enough to keep Moloch the Fool and Half-Wit Troile buried, but the Titan is another thing altogether. When the Final Night comes and the Ancients arise to fight their wars anew, when Caine returns and establishes the Last City in the Valley of the Son of Hinnom, all who remember will see, that the Titan has returned. He intends to win this time, once and for all. After all, why should a god bow before anyone?

Subject: Antediluvian History Saulot - 01/13/2005 23:40:01 Malak-hav, The Mourner The mad Malkavians are enigmas to other vampires. Even those who spend time among them do not hope to understand them. It could be said that the Malkavians are one great enigma of the vampire world, and that the Antediluvians are the other great enigma. In that case, the greatest enigma of all would be the Malkavian Antediluvian himself. Few outside the clan have heard anything about the mysterious Malkav, and when asked, the Malkavians simply smile sadly. Leaving the Garden As the son of a temple priest in the First City, the boy had a fairly good life, as things were in those days. He was well provided for, his parents loved him, and he had a twin sister whom he spent all his time with. They were both happy children, happy as only children can be, without a care in the world. Neither cared about the strange goings on of the First City, and neither ever worried about the future. The boy’s eyes always glowed with delight as he took in some new mystery of the world. On their thirteenth birthday, the boy and his sister were given a gift by the gods. They began to receive prophecies in their dreams, of events both near and far. Unfortunately, in the First City, such a gift was not among the mortals a cause for celebration. Their father knew that it was only a matter of time before his carefree children attracted the wrong kind of attention. After that, he did everything he could to hide them from the unseen masters of the city, fearing for his children’s souls. The boy never did understand why his father became so strict all of a sudden. Before he had been allowed to roam as he wished. Now, he was rarely allowed out. One night, he convinced his sister to sneak out with him. They reveled in seeing the outside world again, which they had used to love, but had been hidden from for too long. The boy never understood how much trouble he had gotten himself and his poor sister into. The two children never returned home. Inner Child One member of the Second Generation greatly valued Malak-hav and his sister Malakai for their prophetic gifts. In the First City, the child-vampires were often made to speak prophecy, sometimes seriously, and sometimes for the amusement of their sire and his blood-siblings. Sometimes, Malak-hav was allowed to speak with Caine himself. Once, Malak-hav asked his grandsire why there was suffering in the world. Caine told him that he did not know, and that if Malak-hav wanted to know the answer, he should seek out God himself. Malak-hav, who often mourned for the suffering of the many victims he saw in the First City, called out to God for an answer. God answered him. His answer was a Great Flood that would wipe away the sinners of the earth, man and vampire both, so that the world could have a clean slate, free of suffering and evil. It did not work out that way, unfortunately. After the Flood, Malak-hav made his way to the rest of the surviving vampires, hoping to speak with his sister. He was captured by Irad, who dragged him before the Second Generation, who suspected the Third of treachery. Erinye, a member of the Third Generation served as torturer for her sire, and every night for a week, she tortured him while the Second Generation looked on, demanding a prophecy that he did not have. This wickedness was an affront to whatever humanity was left in the Third Generation, who rose up and slew their God-forsaken sires. Regression In the Second City, Malak-hav cried on many nights, saddened to see the mortals’ suffering again. He saw his sister sometimes, and she consoled him sometimes, but it was often not enough. Sometimes he wept alone for weeks. Saulot came to comfort him, when he was in the city, but Saulot often went away. Sometimes talking to Saulot made Malak-hav weep even more, as prophecy warned him of what was to come. Sometimes Ishtar would sit with him and listen to his sad songs, but nothing could make him right. As war began in the Second City, Malak-hav found himself in another sad situation. Arikel dragged the boy to the citadel, where Al-Mahri sat on the throne. The paranoid rulers of the city demanded he tell them prophecy of the city’s fate, knowledge which Malak-hav vehemently denied having. He begged them not to hurt him, and they assured him they would not. Laughing, they asked, why would he think they would be so cruel? Lucian entered the citadel, with sister Malakai in hand, and they tortured her brutally, forcing Malak-hav to watch, and demanding to know the vision he did not have. When Malak-hav was finally allowed to leave, he found the chaos had escalated. Soon, he heard voices screaming that he had revealed their plans to Al-Mahri. Desperately he begged for mercy, as his body was torn apart, into a thousand pieces. Renewal Malak-hav’s childer gathered to the spot where their sire fell, in a solemn display of sacred mourning as the Second City burned. They wept in sorrow for the mortals of the city, for their own race, and for the poor prophet child who had suffered for all their sins. For forty nights, they wept on that sacred spot, and their tears of blood preserved Malak-hav’s broken body. Finally, something called to them. Something called to the souls of the gathered Fourth Generation Malkavians, urging them to consume the blood and body before them. They feasted in sorrow, and became like gods. They absorbed the scattered essence of their master into their souls, bonding them, uniting them. They absorbed his tortured gift, and saw the visions that had damned the poor boy. They absorbed his sorrow, and they absorbed the trauma he had suffered. None of the Methuselahs were strong enough to withstand the sorrow and trauma that the First Malkavian had accumulated, and it broke their minds. Outreach Malak-hav’s childer went forth into the world, hoping to honor it with the essence of their sire. To all places they went, seeking the sorrowful, the downtrodden and the misunderstood, to gift them with the sacred mystery. Or maybe, they spread their curse for a different reason altogether. Perhaps, they sought to spread the boy’s sorrow and trauma among as many mortals as they could find, hoping that with more minds, they would be able to bear their sire’s suffering. The Malkavians became a part of Kindred society, taking their place among the great clans. They were always, however, a society apart. The other clans never accepted them, only tolerated them, marked as they were with shattered minds. For their own part, the Malkavians were more tight-knit than the other clans, sharing a powerful mental bond, though none of the other clans could really be aware of this. The Malkavians were begrudgingly allowed to remain among the clans, given their freedom to stalk the nights. This freedom was accompanied by one caveat, however: Never let too many Malkavians gather in the same place. Return to Innocence Malak-hav’s presence never truly left this world, but rather worked its way into his childer. It unites them, making them a family as well as a clan, but also destroying their sanity soon after the Embrace. The presence is spread thinner and thinner, as Malkavians multiply, but when Malkavians die, the presence does not end. Rather, it finds its way back to an older Malkavian. For this reason, the Malkavians struggle to make their blood less potent, even as the other clans fear the Time of Thin Blood as a sign of Gehenna. In the Last Days, vampires of all sorts will die in large numbers, Malkavians being no exception. This will result in the surviving Malkavians exhibiting greater madness as they struggle with greater burdens of their grandsire’s presence. Finally, the Fourth Generation Malkavians will feel the call again, and unite on the spot where Malak-hav was torn apart. There, they will combine themselves, joining their minds so that their sire may reemerge in order to mourn the end of the world. The prophet child still even in the Last Days seeks to find an end to the suffering of mankind. His rebirth in his childer has enlightened him, and he now understands that to eliminate suffering, mankind must return to a state of primordial serenity. Malak-hav seeks to the return the world to something similar to the Garden of Eden. No matter what price must be paid to establish that tranquility, Malak-hav is willing to pay it. The world has suffered for too long, and the time for mourning must end.

Subject: Antediluvian History Saulot - 01/13/2004 01:40:34 Namtaru, Gateway to Oblivion While some clans fear their progenitor and other clans deny theirs, the Lasombra are proud to have destroyed their Antediluvian founder. They boast about how the Lasombra Gratiano led a cabal of Cainites and diablerised the foul monster. Or sometimes they describe how a group of Lasombra and Assamites killed the beast and shared its blood among them. Or other times, the story is that one of the Assamites diablerised him. Everyone who tells the story does so differently. Some find it strange that an event so recent by immortal standards could be forgotten so quickly. Dusk The raider was the mighty leader of a band of outlaws. No weak men were these. Instead of living the lazy lives of kings, they worked for their livings. But instead of toiling like some commoner in order to barely sustain themselves, they took their living by force. The raider and his band watched the routes coming in and out of the First City, looking for valuable cargo they could take for themselves. That was the way the world worked in those days. The strong preyed on the weak and it was only natural for them to do so. Certainly, nobody could have expected the raider to work like a common dog, could they? One caravan in particular caught the raider’s wandering eye. It was more heavily guarded, more ornate, and far more seductive than any caravan he had assaulted before. It was also the first piece of cargo that fought back. After the assault, the caravan’s guard and the raider’s band all lay dead. The raider himself lay bleeding, at the mercy of one of the First City’s undying lords. The raider found himself in a position of weakness, begging to be spared, as many had begged him in the past. He did not expect his request to be granted. But the vampire was in a merciful mood that night, and the raider’s life was saved. In fact, she had done far more than simply grant his request. She had made him far stronger than he had ever dreamed. With this kind of power, he knew he would always be the strong one; he would never be weak again. But when he came to the First City, the vampires’ city, he was dismayed to learn that there were so many others like him. He had always thought himself to be unique, and he knew that from then on, he had to become the greatest Childe of Caine to haunt the night. Twilight As he made his way among the Cainites, the raider learned quickly that others were stronger than him. He resented their strength, but he resented even more so his own weakness. He observed his own Third Generation, looking for the weakness of others. He listened to the Second Generation, hoping to exercise power as they did. He asked Caine for answers, but he received none. Finally, he looked to the darkest corners of the Earth for a secret source of strength, which would allow him to subjugate all the others. The raider searched long and hard, and he eventually found that which he sought. He found the Word that would allow him to call to the primordial darkness that existed before God created light. He learned to reach into that Abyss of possibility and give life to his desires. He gained the power to tap directly into the shadowy places, drawing from them the true Darkness, that Darkness that one can feel. He had discovered the secret to strength, and all it had cost him was his soul. The day after Namtaru sold himself to the darkness, the Great Flood began. Namtaru hid within the dark places of the earth, waiting for the Flood to subside. After the cataclysm, Namtaru remained hidden, and tested his newfound power. He spoke as a voice in every shadow, urging the Antediluvians to destroy the Second Generation. And so they did. The strong one had exerted his will over the weak, and all was right with the world. Nightfall Namtaru chose to remain below the ground and to watch the others build their mighty Second City and lord over it. But even below the ground, Namtaru was active in the politics of the Second City. At times, he Embraced childer as they walked in the dark. Sometimes he whispered through the shadows, encouraging Absimilliard or Sutekh to strike down their enemies. Other times he whispered in Al-Mahri’s ear, or Lucian’s, making them grow paranoid. Of course, he merely augmented the feelings they already had, but Namtaru delighted in urging the city toward chaos. Often he slept peacefully, and the Darkness granted him sweet dreams of atrocity. The Second City was gripped in a war with a vampire cult called the Baali. Sometime during this period, the Baali discovered Namtaru’s slumbering body, and began to worship it. Namtaru was content for a time to let them feed his violent dreams. Through the shadows he watched the Baali Wars, and saw them end. Then he saw the next conflict: childe against sire, brother against sister, all against all. The Second City fell apart in a great war as the petty conflicts of the vampires formed into a maelstrom of hate. Delighted to see his rivals fail, Namtaru slept. Total Eclipse After the fall of the Second City, the Lasombra spread across the earth with the rest of the clans. One clan, the Baali was forced into secrecy, and they brought the body of Namtaru, their god, with them. Namtaru was generally content to observe the squabbling of the clans, the Baali’s attempts to protect him, and the others’ attempts to battle the Baali. At times, he drew his own clan, the Lasombra to him, watching them fight the Baali, sorting out the strong from the weak. Eventually, Namtaru grew tired of the Baali’s games. He arranged for his clan to take his body, and he rose from his long rest. Finding himself pursued by the wrathful Sutekh, Namtaru called the Darkness to him. He bound Sutekh in Mount Etna, opening a private Abyssal hell, in which the weakling would suffer for all eternity. Namtaru watched the world for some more time, but quickly grew tired again, as drawing upon the Darkness became more and more exhausting. He went to sleep once more, taking his haven there, in Sicily, so that he could return to his bloody dreams. Fear of the Dark When Gratiano and his followers came upon the slumbering Lasombra Antediluvian, they managed to catch him by surprise. Namtaru was not completely unprepared however, and it is for that reason that to this day, nobody knows the true story of the events of that dreadful night. The only consistent part of the story is that the Ancient was slain. None of the participants had the honor of diablerising the First Lasombra, however, for in confirmation of their worst fears, they found him missing a soul. His soul and those of all his descendents had been promised to the Black Abyss itself ages ago. The Anarchs eventually grew into the Sabbat, and the Lasombra became the leaders of that sect. They were a model to all the antitribu because, other than the Tzimisce, the other founding clan, they were the only clan to have turned against its founder and won. Most who hear the story rejoiced, knowing that one day they would win the war against all of the Clan Founders. A few however, doubted. The story had too many holes to be taken at face value… Final Darkness When the Lasombra Antediluvian died, his soul was claimed by the Abyss. Now his soul is weaved into the Abyss, along with the souls of all who had tried to claim its powers over the millennia. Namtaru’s soul has lived longer than most of them, so he has a limited sentience, though even he is now subject to the will of the primordial Darkness itself. When Namtaru made his pact all those ages ago, what he actually did was make his body, blood and soul into conduits for the Nothing Realm that he tapped into. Gratiano and the Anarchs destroyed this body, so it no longer serves as a gateway to the Oblivion Land. Unfortunately, his blood survives in many places, or rather, many Kindred, who can still serve as conduits for the Abyss, and for the King of Shadows himself. The same is true about many parts of the island of Sicily, which has many conduits, patches of darkness, due to Namtaru’s time spent there and his assault on Sutekh. All these conduits are areas where the Abyss literally spills over into Creation, not-being spills over into being, a mockery of the will of God. Namtaru is a part of this Abyss, and seeks to guide it, thought he is actually pursuing its goals. These goals are to shroud the world in eternal night, and to recreate the world in Dark instead of Light. The King of Shadows can and will seep through many of his childer, making them sentient, malignant Darkness. Once he has leaked into this world, every shadow everywhere will be a threat. Who’s afraid of the dark? Those who are not, really, really should be.

Subject: Antediluvian History Saulot - 01/13/2005 01:55:06 Saulot, Catalyst of the Crucible Saulot. For the youngest of the Kindred the name is meaningless, as few of them will ever hear it. For the ancillae and the younger elders, it is a name barely known, one that is heard and forgotten along with a dozen others. But for all other vampires the name invokes an image: healer, warrior, martyr, monster. The name also calls up emotions: love, respect, hate, fear. There are as many tales of who he was as there are Kindred telling the tales. Everybody knows something about him, and yet nobody knows anything. In the end, none of this matters, as the enigmatic Saulot passed away long ago, the victim of cruel fate and merciless ambition. Or so some of the tales say… Victim Life was much calmer in the surrounding lands than it was in the First City itself. The complexities, hazards, and atrocities of life in that city were rare and far away. For the shepherd in the hills, the city was a place to sell wool and to buy those things he needed to live, nothing more, nothing less. In the country he was content to tend his flock and watch the years go by. He was content to let Fate do with him as he wished. He was content to let Providence govern his life. But all were not content to let him live this life. Somebody within the city saw a spark in the lonely shepherd. As the shepherd slept one night, he was awoken by sounds in the night, and he came out to find his entire flock slaughtered, drained of their blood. Frightened but firm, the shepherd searched desperately for the culprit, trying to find an answer. When he found it, his contentment was shattered. When the poor shepherd learned what really stalked the night in the city, he could no longer leave his life to fate. He could no longer trust Providence to take care of him. His life, however, would not last very much longer. The Second Generation vampire had seen a spark in the shepherd, and was glad to see it confirmed when they stood face to face. He knew that he would have to take the shepherd as his own. The shepherd was embraced, and found that he had become both something more than human, and something much less than human. He knew now that the world was not nearly as simple as it had seemed, and he desperately needed to find out what else lay hidden. The shepherd would uncover the secrets of the world, however long it may take him. Healer In the First City, the shepherd grew used to his vampiric form. He carefully explored his condition, learning when to consume blood, how to use blood, and how to fight the Beast Within. Soon, he began developing applications of the blood allowing him to heal wounds, and wondered if they hinted at ways to go beyond his current condition. The idea was very alluring to him. Just as the country around his home and the road to the big city were only a small world compared to the world of vampires, he was sure that his current perceptions of the world were small compared to the truth of the world. When he saw his brothers and sisters planning to rise to power against their sires, he realized that the First City had grown stagnant. If he wanted new experiences, he would have to leave the City’s confines, and wander far away. Then the Flood came. The earth was covered in water and the shepherd found it impossible to feel the world around him. It was agony. When the waters subsided, he found the surviving members of the Third Generation resuming their plans against their sires. Despite the Flood, no new experiences were to be found there, he knew. So he said good bye to a few of his siblings, and prepared to leave for lands unknown. As the Third Generation rose up and committed the greatest of atrocities, the slaying of their parents, the shepherd trekked out alone, knowing not what he would find in the wilderness. Prophet As the Second City was constructed, Saulot wandered the known world. He would remain in the city only for the short intervals between journeys. During these times, he would stop to comfort Malak-hav or guide Dracian in his quest for answers. But he would always leave again soon, to travel to some new land. He grew with every experience, every new sensation he felt, but only one journey changed him. This was his journey far into the East. It was in the East that he learned of others who were similar to him, and they were the ones that confirmed to him his suspicions, that the world was much more complicated then he could ever have believed. In the East Saulot learned to calm his mind and direct his Beast. In the East he learned the mastery of the soul and of the Turning of the Wheel of Ages. The Wheel of Ages fascinated him. The world was in decline, moving inexorably toward a Sixth Age, but miraculously, afterwards the world would grow more wonderful in the subsequent Ages. For reasons he could not understand, some sought to delay the awful Sixth Age. Saulot wondered if after the Sixth Age was allowed to come and pass, would not the world be better for it? During one of his stops in the Second City, Saulot sired his first brood, the Salubri. To them he bequeathed his powers of healing, his courageous valor, and the mastery of the higher aspects of the soul. Saulot’s insight into the soul gifted him with constant prophetic visions. In these prophecies, he saw a vision of the End Times, which would later be dubbed Gehenna, and the end of all vampires. Utter annihilation would come to them if somebody did not save them. This idea gave him fear, but also annoyed him. The vision of Gehenna did not coincide with what he had learned about the Sixth Age. If the Wheel Turned as it ought to, the world would grow better afterwards. If Gehenna occurred, the world would end for his kind. Warlord Saulot began another journey, during which he contemplated this problem. Would the world end in Gehenna, requiring somebody to save it? Or would the Wheel strive to Turn, requiring somebody to aid it against those shortsighted enough to impede it? In a fit of angry contemplation, Saulot allowed his strangely intelligent Beast to have control, and his frustrations were channeled toward a strange tribe of demon-worshippers he encountered in the lands somewhere to the north of the Antediluvians’ city. Saulot mutilated and tortured them, attempting to divine from their entrails the true End of the World. In his righteous anger he hurled them all into a well, and in his infinite mercy he offered them some of his blood. Eventually, they would become his second brood, the Baali. To them he bequeathed some of his darker experiences and his mastery of the lower aspects of the soul. These, they combined with their own dark arts, and the Baali became a frightening menace for those who learned of them. In his broods, Saulot beheld an interesting dichotomy. The Salubri were saviors, and to Saulot this represented the need to save the world from an impending Gehenna, so that some may survive and continue on. The Baali were destroyers, which represented the need for a Demon Emperor to usher in the Sixth Age, allowing the Wheel to continue and eventually come to a better age, and to thwart the efforts of those who would wickedly halt the Turning of the Wheel. Saulot saw in these broods a grand experiment. He brought the Baali to the Second City, hoping that the battling of these broods would prove to him the correct fate of all things. Unfortunately, the other clans intervened and the Baali were driven away by the united force of the Antediluvians and all their broods. Soon after the Second City fell into chaos, and was lost to the ages. In the millennia that followed, Saulot continued to search for the answer to the riddle. He made himself out to be a healer, a prophet, an enlightened one, seeing some wisdom in the Salubri’s victory. But he also kept watch on the Baali, guiding them to punish the Children of Haqim for interfering in the battle between Saulot’s broods. Through the ages, he continued to play the two broods against each other, hoping to find the answer. Martyr Finally, Saulot envisioned his greatest experiment of all. He became aware of a group of magi known as the Tremere, and saw in them a threefold experiment. He would find out how the Salubri would fare against a purge such as the Baali had known. He would find out how Kindred society would deal with a Clan of Usurpers. Finally he would test his own mastery over the soul. It was to these ends that Saulot allowed the leader of the magi, the arrogant Tremere, to diablerise him. Saulot underestimated Tremere and spent nearly a millennium battling within his body, pitting his mastery of the soul against the will of an arch-mage. While he eventually emerged victorious, he had lost a great deal of valuable time. The Salubri had fared just as badly as the Baali, and the riddle had not been solved. The clans had, with a few exceptions, accepted the coming of the Tremere Clan, and had almost completely forgotten his broods, and even his very existence. His mastery of the soul had proven vast, but not complete. For Magus Tremere had escaped into the body of one of his disciples, and the poor disciple, Goratrix, had been banished into Lucian’s realm. But worst of all, Saulot had missed a Turning of the Wheel, and when he finally gained control, the Sixth Age was at hand. Catalyst The time for action has arrived, and Saulot still does not know the answer to the end of the world. He has emerged in the body of the Founder of the Tremere Clan, and few are aware of this new form. However, Saulot can feel the final climax arriving, and is still not sure how to prepare. If the Kindred of the East are really about to attempt to stop the Wheel from Turning, then Saulot must become the Demon Emperor and take the Throne, so that the new Age, and all the Ages to come will occur as they are supposed to. After all, those that would halt the Wheel are obviously not as farsighted as Saulot is. On the other hand, if the world is going to end in Gehenna, Saulot must be ready to save it. He is not yet ready to experience a dead world. The survival and reemergence of the Baali against all odds, means that the path of the Destroyer is still available to Saulot. However, the survival of the Salubri and their growth in the form of the Salubri antitribu suggests that the path of the Savior is open as well. Finally, the ascendance of the Tremere suggests that Saulot may need to find a third path, which may involve gathering all three of his broods together and entering his Generation’s Jyhad. Even in these Final Nights, Saulot is desperately seeking the answer to the riddle that has plagued him for so long, but when finally he gets his answer, he will be sure to act decisively. Saulot is a catalyst of the End, whichever form it is going to take, and when he acts, it is unlikely that anything will stand in his way.

Subject: Antediluvian History Saulot - 01/13/2005 01:56:00 Sutekh, The Typhon Beast For ages, men and vampires in the land of Egypt have told stories of a dark god. The human myths are accessible to those who want to find them, while the vampiric Settites’ myths are rarely told to outsiders. Still, there are those who know them, and wonder what the truth is. The old myths have tales, sometimes conflicting, about Set, Seth, Sutekh, the brother of Osiris, the enemy of Horus, and the one who battled Apep. But are they true or are the false? Or rather, how many grains of truth are there among the embellishments and changes of the ages? Sometimes the myths seem to have little meaning, but other times they ring uncomfortably true… Secret Knowledge Many miles the foreigner had traveled, to see the glorious First City. He had heard many times of the First City, the center of wealth, or culture, and of knowledge. Among the primitive villages and small settlements the First City shined like a ruby in the desert sand. He hoped that if he made his way to the glorious city, and sought his fortune among its inhabitants, that wealth, culture, and knowledge would be his. So many things, he hoped to learn in the First City, and yet, he never suspected the secrets that the city hid. He had heard rumors, certainly, of the strange practices of the city and the nobles who slept during the day, but he was not one to judge. The foreigner did not expect to immediately understand the customs of a foreign place, especially not the impossibly cultured First City. So, he listened to the rumors, but paid them no heed, entranced by the hope of the secret knowledge that would soon be his. When he did arrive at the city, he learned that inquisitive travelers were not rare in the First City, and that he would have to compete with many if he wanted to succeed there. The foreigner very, very much wanted to succeed. His appetite for knowledge caught the attention of one of the First City’s invisible masters, the ones that the rumors spoke of. If he would join them, his future sire explained, he would learn the secret knowledge of the world. How could the foreigner reject such an offer? Perhaps if the vampire had explained to him all the facts of his new condition beforehand, he would have been less eager. But the way things happened, the foreigner could only delight in having achieved success. Sacred Initiation In the First City, the foreigner labored hard to learn the secrets, but he often found himself disappointed. His sire and the other members of the Second Generation ruled with tighter and tighter control, as Caine grew more and more distant. Many of the other Third Generation, especially the pampered Al-Mahri, resented Sutekh’s uncultured, foreign origins. Others guarded their knowledge jealously; his own brood mates Ashur and Ishtar earned his enmity when they refused to share with him their secrets of life and death. When Sutekh heard the scheming of the Third Generation, he was pleased. While he did not trust his own Generation, he loathed the iron-fisted control, the mental oppression, and the festering servitude, which all accompanied the rule of the Second Generation. This oppression had to be brought to an end. And so it was, though the Creator of the world saw fit to end it before Sutekh and his co-conspirators could do so. Rains covered the earth, destroying the First City and many of the sinful men and monsters that dwelled within. But Sutekh persevered, and watched as the other survivors crawled up from the ashes. The Second Generation tried to impose their rule once more, now unfettered by the rule of the vanished First Vampire. Al-Mahri and his allies tried to maneuver for power, threatening to betray their own Generation to earn the favor the Second Generation. Sutekh and the others would not be held in slavery again. In a great revolt, the Third Generation rose up, and brought death to their sires. Self-Empowerment In the Second City, built by the Third Generation, history repeated itself. While the members of the terrible Third Generation each established their own domain, three took it upon themselves to take on the roles of the deposed Second Generation. Al-Mahri, Lucian, and Arikel established rule over their peers, and found themselves adapt at exercising control. Sutekh planned his rebellion in secret, at first, but as he received secret encouragement from the shadows, he became bolder, plotting with scornful Absimilliard and vengeful Mekhet. Sutekh saw the Second City besieged by demon worshippers, and afterwards, saw a member of the Fourth Generation slay her sire. This was the final trigger. It was time to let the secret plan spill out, so that all may learn of it. In a storm of rage and hate, Sutekh’s rebellion erupted. He frightened Ishtar and Ashur, who had denied him knowledge, into fleeing. He sought out Ennoia who had cheated him, teaching him shape shifting into only one animal (She had laughed and called him a snake, that bitch), but she had already left the city with that damned thief Dracian. Sutekh and his allies tore Malak-hav into a thousand pieces, knowing that Al-Mahri and the others would make the prophet child tell them the future. He and Absimilliard killed Arikel and ate her heart. He and Mekhet forced Lucian to stand before an enchanted mirror, entranced by his own beauty, as the sun rose behind him. Finally, Sutekh hunted down Al-Mahri himself, and his three childer, Ninmug, Loz, and Nergal, imprisoning them in a tomb, while the rebels preformed a ritual to banish them into the lands of the dead. After forty nights amid the crumbling Second City, they descended to the tomb’s entrance to complete the ritual. As the tomb disappeared forever, Sutekh took joy in the freedom that was finally his. Slithering Servants After the fall of the Second City, Set’s childer fled from the wreckage. While they concentrated themselves in Egypt, many would find their ways to other lands, as they sought to learn the secrets of the world. The Followers of Set did the will of their lord and god, fighting the followers of his enemies, seeking knowledge, and subverting the political, social, and moral authoritarians wherever they could find them. But the Followers of Set lost power as Egypt did, and eventually they were only a shadow of their former selves. The Settites fought harder and harder against the enemies of their clan, but often to no avail. As the centuries passed, they began to hope and pray for a savior. More and more, the Followers of Set hoped that their Dark God would walk among them once more. One day, he would return to them, and lead them into battle, as they shattered the foundations of the world itself. Shattering the Darkness While the clans spread, Sutekh himself sought out his last enemy. The Second City itself had not been meant to be destroyed; Sutekh had meant only to slay its rulers, but he knew who was responsible for the travesty. Namtaru, the great deceiver, had spoken in the shadows, arranging the destruction of the city. Sutekh stalked Namtaru, seeking always knowledge of his hidden location. Each night, Sutekh would strive to slay the Dark One, and Namtaru’s followers would be forced to help him flee before the coming of the dawn. Eventually, Namtaru emerged, leaving behind the demonic cult that had protected him and used him. The battled did not go as planned. Sutekh could not react before he was shrouded in darkness. Namtaru chained the Typhon Beast within Mount Etna, in Sicily, taking haven there to watch Sutekh’s suffering. Sutekh found himself in a cold, dead, world without light. Within the dark abyss of Mount Etna, Sutekh could only scream silently for all eternity. Resurrection Sometime during the Renaissance, however, something changed in Sutekh’s cold prison. The chance of an escape emerged from the abyss of possibility. The Followers of Set immediately heard the call of their master, and the Hierophants began preparing the grand ritual that would bring Sutekh back into this world. They reconstructed their destroyed great temple in Ombos, the birthplace of Sutekh, making preparations, always in secret. Finally, the Hierophants finished the ritual, and Mount Etna emitted black smoke for three days and nights, with no eruption, when the ritual finally succeeded and Sutekh was returned from the darkness. Unknown to all but his most loyal followers, the dead god has risen. He has seen the modern world, and witnessed the tyranny of its rulers, observing that nothing has changed in the nights that have passed since he last walked the earth. Once again, the Typhon Beast plots in secret, searching for signs of any of his old enemies that may still haunt the night. When the time comes for the Great Game to end, Sutekh will be ready with his secret knowledge, to spring the final trap, and be free of their oppression forever more.

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