Ahh, the Tremere. Troublesome little witches they are. Playing with blood like a baby’s rattle. They think they are these magical faeries, playing with all of us. Able to manipulate ad control us.
Blood magic is a pain in the ass, a mess I’ve had to clean more than once to maintain our little society.
Salem was the biggest mistake of how to deal with Tremere I’ve ever witnessed. We made them icons, instead of feared creatures. Religion was a fickle thing to try and drive them back into the shadows, a mistake we’ve never made since.
You see, for the ones that knew the rules and obeyed them, unlife was simple. They’d aide in finding answers for new Kindred, guidance with mystical items. They were helpful to us when called upon.
For ones that didn’t obey? For those who didn’t wish to keep the Masquerade, life was messy and horrifying.
Forced into the darkest shadows, but still watched relentlessly to ensure they stayed there. Stayed where they belonged. But every now and then they’d spring up, Embrace a new Kindred and the mess would begin once again.
I’ve never trusted a Tremere, because they showed loyalty to clan more than to the Masquerade.
So, I’ve been called numerous times to deal with these problems. The worst was so much later in life. We managed to drive it into secrecy, make it a conspiracy. The “Satanic Panic” it’s been dubbed since. Tremere stealing children, feeding on them.
While I hated the hard work, I took pleasure in putting these rogue Kindred down with extreme prejudice. There are rules and guidelines for Kindred. Even Anarchs, the rebels without a good cause, obey them because they know our survival depends on the secrecy we enforce.
And now it seems a new, pesky, little magic wielder has decided to make this place their home. A place I’ve been sent to ensure the Masquerade is kept. Where are you going to fall?
You going to cause me problems, create messes that I will need to create fantastical stories about so that the populace doesn’t get a better understanding of what and who we are?
Or are you going to follow the rules? Obey the guidelines our kind have spent centuries crafting for the betterment?
I’ve grown frustrated with your kind, and I hope you pick the former. Be a pain in my ass, give me the justification to end you quickly.
Magic should have died with the witches at Salem, but alas I underestimated your stubbornness. Rest assured, I’ve learned my lesson and I fully plan to put what I learned into practice this Monday.
Watching you gasp for that air, looking up at the lights as the last breath escapes your lungs knowing your magic just won’t save you this time. Knowing that I will find a way to bury your story so deep, there won’t be any wisps of it to turn into legends.
There won’t be a panic, because you would have never existed.