Tome of secrets revised pdf download

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We interrogated. We searched. We moved on. Nothing could stop us. Yet we needed not the blood of the living. Our most interesting moment in Vienna was when we found a Venetian merchant, a man dealing in spices, masks, and other oddments.

He told us of turmoil in Genoa, where the Venetians sought to starve out their commercial elements. This was seen as a form of retribution for their facilitating the Fourth Crusade. Our merchant said that Genoa is becoming truly a city of shadows.

We pressed him on that statement. He said he heard the phrase from a wealthy, mysterious man in Pisa, one Anziani Giovani. Krakow would be our next stop. We knew this because she told us in our dreams.

No symbols. No taking turns. All three of us shared a dream, where she spoke clearly to each of us. As we woke, we felt something within us, coming from the southwest. Coming from Genoa. As we felt this push, this pull, this strange sensation within us, we knew we had to keep our distance until the right time. This is why we fled to Krakow; being closer would be perilous. A traveling Tzimisce, one Pyotr Stanislav, told us what to expect of Krakow.

She protects us. And for her, we march. Footnote from Eudocia: Anziani Giovani, the Elder Giovani, is a term commonly attributed to Augustus, head of our nascent stu- dent lineage.

This is no coincidence; even if this Anziani is not Augustus, none would dare call himself Giovani without affiliation to that family. While not all of the Giovani line are family, even the adopted outsiders bear the name. Circumstances do not permit my congress with the student lineage, elsewise I would investigate his role further.

I have seen others use an alternate spelling. I know of one young member named Vincent Giovanni. Im mildly curious at the reason for the difference. With this, we reach the end of the verifiable documents It is my firm recommendation that we seal these docu- detailing the Bloodless Crusade.

That we hide them away, and catalogue them without Since uncovering these documents, I have been present- direct reference to the events.

The stories of the Bloodless ed with numerous lost entries. A man offered me a folio Crusade are few and far between, and do not feature many of supposed entries They didnt even pass cursory of the more controversial elements of the story. I do believe divination. Another found three alternate entries detailing that if this story falls into the wrong hands, that it could the trip to Genoa.

The ink still smelled. I found a separate bring about a heretical cult, which is to everyones detriment collection in a clay pot, which is almost identical to the except for those ideologues who would wield such a group. They differ in that they Make no mistake: This document will do more harm are signed Conlaoch, a mans name.

In my research, Ive than good. We may learn lessons from it. But it raises more found that many such accountings and testaments have questions than it answers.

Indeed, it answers no significant similar edits. However, Ive met Cainites who knew Creidne questions. Lock it away. I can only imagine Eudocia Melachrina. The Derinkuyu Letters T he enclosed letters comprise the most legible of a col- lection related to the Bloodless Crusade. Consider this a footnote to my research on the Creidne Diaries.

Some are over as gifts from survivors or murderers. One, the one without an original draft analogue, I uncovered by scrying at an opportune place and time. The following relevant parties to be at least nominally aware of the Crusaders. While Ive taken liberties in localizing Future researchers would be wise to investigate these parties. Some original documents when in conflict.

Some were given Eudocia Melachrina. My Lady Ana de Mendoza, I am regretfully informing you that your cousin has taken to the countryside. He walks from city to city with the nascent covenant of strange pilgrims. I dare not write his name, in case this letter is intercepted. But I trust you know to which cousin I refer. This is not rumor. This is not speculation. He was seen by one of my agents in Toulouse.

He dealt with my agent, offering a remarkable favor in exchange for a rather benign use of the Voice, in intercepting a courier. My agent was not mistaken in identifying him. More important than informing you, I am warning you. Do not intervene. Do not attempt to contact your cousin. I speak in strictest confidence: This cabal is not fated for success. It marches across dangerous ground. It makes many fast enemies with its brashness and its strange heresies. It speaks of defying the blood.

It speaks of the light of day. Before long, it will stumble upon a force not only resenting its words, but also possessing the power to stop its graceless walk. Lady Mendoza, you cannot intervene. I do not make this request lightly.

I hear murmurs from three factions, demanding the heads of these pilgrims. The first is a collective of Lasombra with clan sponsorship, who see the travelers as a threat to their Road. The second is a powerful coterie, some allies of mine, including an up- and-coming Usurper named Meerlinda. This coterie sees the pilgrims as a potential upset, as a potential trigger for a great revolt. After all, if these young bloods buck the Covenant, whats to keep power in the hands of the.

The last group is a great brood of the Baali, of which we know little. This is not a group weve known and watched for centuries. This is a powerful network thats only surfaced recently, and perhaps in response to the Crusaders. All three groups aim to see these wanderers eliminated, their message whatever that message may be silenced. Strange bedfellows, indeed. I know your ambitions. I know your methods. And I also know that my telling you to remain mum on this issue may fall on deaf ears.

If you truly wish to intervene, I implore you to abduct him. Find him, take him, and leave unnoticed. Employ an Assamite if you must. Do so as indirectly as you are able. You cannot risk being on that field when it becomes a slaughter.

On to kinder words. I have heard your petition for mentorship. I will be passing along my recommendation. With Utmost Sympathy, H. Pr estess L v a Yorke, Your aggress ve pursu t of Ca nes brood s w tnessed and respected.

I have rece ved the art fact youve uncovered, and I have both good and bad t d ngs. On the good t d ngs, I do bel eve the br ck n quest on comes from one of the Second Generat on. I have all reason to bel eve th s. As you suspected, t comes from an oven.

It looks s m lar to many p eces weve found from anc ent Pers a. Further, the p ece has dent fy ng features, h d ng for those so ncl ned to uncover them. Th s s Irads br ck. Ca nes second ch lde. You see, the mortar conta ns blood, trace amounts that Ive been able to compare to numerous l neages, desp te com ng from a s ngle donor.

Cappadoc an. Th s s no co nc dence. These are the clans of- ten attr buted to Irads creat on. If my research and d v nat on s correct, th s conf rms a long-stand ng bel ef supported by the Book of Nod. On to the bad t d ngs. I must say that I do not have long. S nce my d scovery, Ive seen v s ons. Ive seen shadowed f gures. These are not Lasombra assass ns; my s ght would p erce that blackness.

These are someth ng else. Each n ght, they come closer. On the f rst n ght, I could not throw a rock and h t the shadows f I tr ed. Now, I can make out d st nct f ngers on the r hands f I focus. They have s x f ngers. Odder st ll, Ive not hungered.

Ive not fed n a week, nor do I even want to. Some three centur es ago, I encountered a coter e who l kew se d d not need blood. They went over a month w thout. But at the end of th s per od, the hunger caught up w th them, they rended each other to shreds, then they fell apart at the very fabr c.

All crumbled to the F nal Death. If the shadows do not get me f rst, I know that th s shall be my fate as well. I have a solut on. Metamorphos s w ll be my salvat on. If my theory stands correct, fate follows dent ty, and metamorphos s changes dent ty. Well soon f nd whether my theory bears fru t. Do not w sh me luck. W sh my ph losophy holds true. Myca Vykos.

I need your assistance. And if you understand what this means, I do not need to elaborate. Youve heard of the wanderers, have you not? Those claiming to be free of the shackles of the blood? Soon, they shall arrive in Valencia. I need your intervention. My sire has demanded my time, and in such a way I cannot refuse. But this matter must be attended to. A man called Augustine travels with them. He shares our blood. He must be eliminated.

Unless I am mistaken, hes the only of our line attending this voyage. Make no mistake: This group will fall, and soon. They cannot have one of our clan in their ranks. We cannot be associated with their malfeasance, as I know when the truth comes out about what theyre doing, itll be far worse than any of us imagined.

Things are changing soon. Wheels turn slowly but steadily. We must be clean, pure, and ready for that future. We cannot be stained with this nonsense, because when the last wheel turns, we must be ready to rise righteous as dark and perfect beacons. Whatever enslaves these travelers, we cannot be a party to it. If you do this thing, know that Ill be indebted.

This is a task Id otherwise never leave to another. It must be done, and must be done properly. Gabriella speaks well of your ability. For blood above all, Lucita de Aragon. Addenda from Eudocia I have confirmed that Augustine fell in Valencia. I found a diary from one of the travelers, a Tremere called Maximilian Skold, which stated that Augustine never woke from the pilgrims strange dream; that when they woke, he was but ash.

Odder still, this author seems to think that his passing was largely accepted as coincidence, as an expected cost of their dream. Either that writer was mistaken, or the Crusade believed their dreams truly empowered to kill. I do not discount this possibility. Their circumstances were sufficiently strange that they might rationalize anything. To the Lord Berwich Nothisen, Greetings.

We spoke briefly during your excursion to Paris. I introduced myself, we spoke of your nascent bloodline. I am Vronique dOrlans. If youre reading this, youre on travels in Nuremburg, from your home in Saxony. A mutual acquaintance told me of your visit. Im going to be direct with you, Lord Nothisen: I need you to create a childe. Theres a young woman in Nuremburg who claims to have seen angels. She says a group of angels rode through her town, and blessed her and a few others.

I need you to make her like you, clanless. After the initial feeding, which should be ample, I need you to not let her feed for some time. Wait one week. Perhaps two. See if she shows the signs of losing control, or the call to torpor. If she does, feed her. If she does not, I need you to put a quickbeam shaft through her heart and ship her to me in Paris.

I have many ears. More importantly, I have many ears about Saxony. I promise you that each Cainite lord in the region will recognize your nascent bloodline. Youll submit to me a coat of arms and a name, and I will see to it that our blood at large acknowledges you as its head.

My offer, while generous, is highly subject to time. I must have you commit this creation within one month, and I cannot promise you my support past that month. So you must act quickly. But this window of opportunity is both rare and potent. I have leverage I can use in your favor, but I need to see results. We can create great things. Show me the initiative, and youll be rewarded in a way that cannot be taken away. Youve seen the rise of the Tremere. You know this is possible.

Sincerely, Vronique dOrlans. Mister Jonathan Crowley, I know you watch our kind. My friend Anatole spoke of you, and told me where I could connect with you. I need to make this connection, and I hope you understand the gravity of why.

My family faces eradication. Further, my race faces eradication. My family, my kind, we know. We find, interpret, and we teach the secrets of the world when we can. Unfortunately, weve been painted as devils, and each night, we grow fewer in number.

Worse, we see the end; and like Cassandra, none will hear our tale. Some of our number no longer sup on the fruit of the living. While this appears an interesting blessing, and perhaps a new stage in our very identity, its a sign of our ultimate downfall. Its the first rung in a ladder down to a thousand hells, a ladder which we cannot climb back up.

I need to tell this story, these portents, to one not of our blood, but one not necessarily mortal. You travel. You observe. You bear wisdom. You speak for a legacy thousands of years old. Youre a candidate for this burden. From me, youll learn more of my kind in a night than youve learned in a decades research. I will be as unto an open book. If youll listen, Ill be open with you. You know my kind enough to know how rare this opportunity is.

Im not afraid of you. Take this story to your kind. I am a woman who has lost everything. I cannot lose any more. My kind is doomed; theres nothing you can do with this tale to make our situation worse.

But, maybe, just maybe, you can carry our story forward. If we cannot have immortality in the blood, perhaps we can have immortality as a tale, as a piece of wisdom to carry on. He says you speak with the wisdom and free fickleness of a fox. That, I appreciate. I grow curious of what I may learn from you, if only from reverse observations.

I want you to hear our tale. I want you to protect our tale. I want you to share our tale. You are not of our blood, and thus, you may be able to preserve this message. If you can find out how to connect back with me, to find me, I will tell you my tale. Great tidings, Teagan Watcher of Zao-Lat. Verdiana, Forget your name.

Forget your family. For I will, and I wish to. The pilgrims march soon through your lands. Well fake your death. Your second death, as you faked your first in Tuscany. Youre not established in Regensburg yet. Walk away from it all. Here is my offer. Come to me. To the Courts of Love. Well repeat our moment together, a million times over. Ill take you as my childe. I have the necessary blessing.

To the world, youd be but a clever Tuscan girl I took a fancy to. To the world, youd be Toreador no serpent, no disciple of Echidna. The night grows short on the followers of Set. As our courts grow in power, I hear rumors that well soon be eradicating problem elements, low clans.

Weve watched the Salubri fall. Other clans will follow in this race for purity. My sire tells me that perhaps only six or seven clans are safe in the long term. I dont begrudge you your faith, if that still drives you. You can practice in the shadows, the way your clan has for aeons. These pilgrims, they are the second in a series of signs.

The first came just over a decade ago, when the sun was consumed by night. The third has the Clan of Death birthing their own de- struction. We know not how long that will take. Then we see a serpent beheaded. I wish not for that serpent to be you. Consider my proposal. Even if you do not, please write. Each night, I worry your time has come and I was so very far away as to be ignorant of it. I hope you understand the lack of proper formalities, and for having it appear on your person, invading your privacy.

Youve warned us that the Ruthven Tzimisce line shall attack soon. You said you saw their troops gather. We will win or lose this coming battle on your strength. Here is what you are to do: Draw or procure a tactical map of the path between the place where the enemy musters and Ceoris.

Highlight natural vantage points for our combat sorcerers. Highlight large clay deposits for quick gargoyle creation. Show advantageous spots for landslides and natural disasters we might influence.

I also need the best inventory you can provide. You said they bring great forces. My best informant tells me one of their soldiers fled the Bloodless Crusade, and feeds not on the blood of the living. If you can verify this, we need to understand this phenomenon, since it could transform our entire operation at Ceoris.

My informant called this one Umbri. I dont know if thats a constant name, or simply an alias for the crusaders. Any advice you have will be taken to heart. Understand that this is your chance, Initiate. Demonstrate greatness. Let us show the world that our place in this world of Cainites is destined and immutable.

I can only presume their attack will occur before the next moon. Alacrity is the utmost virtue in this en- deavor. Place your report in the container in which you found this letter to deliver it to me. To the one called Leinad Carter, I have been invited on a great pilgrimage, and with permission, I seek to invite you to London, and immediately. I believe you need this opportunity, that it could change your existence forever. My group, my fellow pilgrims, we have gone a month without blood.

I cannot explain this in more certain terms: We have not fed, nor have we wanted for feeding. Weve wanted only for the pilgrimage. My fellows believe this is our one true chance for redemption. I know of your plight, of your wife-to-be. I understand the tragedy of your story; I un- derstand the devastation it must have caused. I want to see you helped.

I see you as a beacon. I see you as hope. I dont speak for my sire, Jrgen von Verden, but I know he has hope for greater things. As his adherence to the Via Regalis falters, I wish to help catch him. I need something. I need a net. I dont think I can find it alone. Each night, I hear more and more rumors that Hardestadt looks to see him destroyed. I owe him. Walk with me, please. Help me find this net. I know you share my hope for better things. Be my walking companion.

My talking companion. Help me to sort this out and make something of it. Help me to bring it to the world. When you come to London, and I am confident you will, walk the riverside. Ill look each night when the moon is at its apex. Understand that we may never have this chance again. Everythings changing. You can be part of that.

In hope, Magda. I reach out to another of Tzimisce blood. I reach out for aid, for philosophy, and to teach and learn with the clan. You see, I have witnessed or to be blunt, experienced something reminiscent of the phenomenon weve been calling The Bloodless Crusade.

Its over now, but I took extensive notes, and conducted extensive experiments. Unfortunately, thus far my experiments have granted me no conclusions. And thus, I am calling a summit of sorts, a convocation of experts willing to put forth the rigor necessary to under- stand this oddity of the blood. If you are so inclined, this shall be a month-long summit, held in a months time.

I understand the problems with urgency; however, time may be of the essence if we wish to grasp whatever was lost. I will be providing sustenance, and fulfilling any other needs. Alternating lined and graph rules pages for listing spells, contacts, and inventory. Plan and execute adventures and encounters, draw building plans and dungeons as you plan your adventure as the Game Master or on the go as a player.

Decorative RPG-style interior. Fantasy RPG cover art. RPG accessories and supplies. Rien ne va plus pour Katie! Ces derniers temps, elle est encore plus maladroite que d'habitude et ses amies du Cupcake Club ne semblent plus la comprendre. Mais est-ce vraiment la solution? It was no longer an inborn hunger, we no longer starved upon straying. Cologne meant nothing to us. Nothing of import, at least. It was but a waypoint, another step along a long hike. We were slowed by our need for blood, but we were not halted.

We met a trader come down from the Rus called Jaredh Immanuel Konstantin. We shared tales of the road, of the hunt. It is our best lead. Before leaving Paris, we checked her shop, which had been burned to the ground. We know in our hearts that her fabrics held significance; maybe their source holds similar significance. I have theories as to what caused the fast, and I have certain accountings from witnesses that suggest it was not nearly as holistic a fast as Creidne suggested.

However, in our sessions, she never once betrayed her piety and adherence to that truth, even under the pain of torture. She swore with conviction that her journal gave a full and accurate portrayal of her abstinence. I am consulting with an associate of mine from the mountains in Anatolia.

He tells me his daughter, Dominique, met them in the French countryside. He also raises questions about the veracity of their story of the Lupine massacre. Unfortunately, my sessions with Creidne were too short to ask for details about that affair. Entry Magdeburg, May Magdeburg stood beautiful. The massive city brought in folks from all walks of life, mostly to trade and worship.

The Hanseatic merchants were loathe to give up their sources, suppliers, couriers, and customers. We surmised he worked with a Tzimisce called Asen, but that bore little bearing on our crusade. The supplier told us that he sells to merchants across the empire and beyond. However, when we described our Parisian seamstress, he knew of whom we spoke immediately. The closest being Nuremburg. We stopped to admire the Magdeburg Reiter, which stood as an example of the modern Empire and its majestic art.

The figure consists of three statues, two men and a woman. To our surprise, the lance-laden woman — a virgin — looked the part of our angel, of our seamstress. After Magdeburg, we followed a false lead to Denmark. Fortunately, we moved quickly, and were able to find our way back to the path and toward Nuremburg.

However, this was our first fruitless lead. We found this markedly worrisome, coupled with our resumed reliance on blood. The Bloodless Crusade did travel to Denmark. I felt it worth the effort to explore just why.

This member, named Elaine Jennings, insisted they would find respite in Denmark. They did stay there for nearly two weeks, and Creidne wrote numerous entries in that time. Entry Nuremburg, June She told us she expected us. She knew our names. She told us that she regretted our brief time in Paris, and that she wished she could tell us more. She told us that our journey would end in Genoa, but we must travel through a different path than expected.

That we would see many other cities on our voyage. She told us that she would return her blessing, our holy mission. That we would sup of her blood, and be sated on our travels once more. We did, and alas, our hunger was no more.

She told us Vienna was to be our next stop, but that she would be with us, to guide us, to walk us through the valleys. She told us great peril would come to us, but if we persisted and marched.

She told us it does not currently, but when we arrive, it will. Beware angels, she said. Angels are the greatest liars of them all. I met a Cainite called Gabriel Blake the night prior. Genoa appears to have been the end of their mission.

But I cannot find reference to what they found there, or what happened. I have done some amount of legwork to uncover their tracks, but the closest I found was a family burial site along a cliff. It matched precisely with one of the spots on her hand-drawn map of the region. What I most definitely did not find was a city of shadows — although her story does suggest that it moves. Entry Vienna, June With the wings of our angel, we flew fast to Vienna.

We kicked up dust in our wake, and nothing could deter us. Our doubts were eradicated with her blood in our veins, and we knew that to continue would be to succeed. I find no small irony in our newly emboldened states. We moved through the city. We hunted. We interrogated. We searched. We moved on. Nothing could stop us. Yet we needed not the blood of the living. Our most interesting moment in Vienna was when we found a Venetian merchant, a man dealing in spices, masks, and other oddments.

He told us of turmoil in Genoa, where the Venetians sought to starve out their commercial elements. This was seen as a form of retribution for their facilitating the Fourth Crusade.

Our merchant said that Genoa is becoming truly a city of shadows. We pressed him on that statement. He said he heard the phrase from a wealthy, mysterious man in Pisa, one Anziani Giovani. Krakow would be our next stop.

We knew this because she told us in our dreams. No symbols. No taking turns. All three of us shared a dream, where she spoke clearly to each of us.

As we woke, we felt something within us, coming from the southwest. Coming from Genoa. As we felt this push, this pull, this strange sensation within us, we knew we had to keep our distance until the right time. This is why we fled to Krakow; being closer would be perilous. A traveling Tzimisce, one Pyotr Stanislav, told us what to expect of Krakow. She protects us. And for her, we march. This is no coincidence; even if this Anziani is not Augustus, none would dare call himself Giovani without affiliation to that family.

While not all of the Giovani line are family, even the adopted outsiders bear the name. Circumstances do not permit my congress with the student lineage, elsewise I would investigate his role further. I have seen others use an alternate spelling. I know of one young member named Vincent Giovanni. Eudocia, In Conclusion With this, we reach the end of the verifiable documents detailing the Bloodless Crusade.

Another found three alternate entries detailing the trip to Genoa. The ink still smelled. I found a separate collection in a clay pot, which is almost identical to the ones I have provided in this thesis. I can only imagine. It is my firm recommendation that we seal these documents. That we hide them away, and catalogue them without direct reference to the events. The stories of the Bloodless Crusade are few and far between, and do not feature many of the more controversial elements of the story.

Make no mistake: This document will do more harm than good. We may learn lessons from it. But it raises more questions than it answers. Indeed, it answers no significant questions. Lock it away. The Derinkuyu Letters he enclosed letters comprise the most legible of a colT lection related to the Bloodless Crusade. Consider this a footnote to my research on the Creidne Diaries. Some are. Future researchers would be wise to investigate these parties.

Most of these letters were intercepted en route. Some were stolen from their respective homes. Some were given. One, the one without an original draft analogue, I uncovered by scrying at an opportune place and time.

In the codex, you will find the originals. The following are my translations. I am regretfully informing you that your cousin has taken to the countryside. He walks from city to city with the nascent covenant of strange pilgrims. I dare not write his name, in case this letter is intercepted. But I trust you know to which cousin I refer. This is not rumor. This is not speculation. He was seen by one of my agents in Toulouse. He dealt with my agent, offering a remarkable favor in exchange for a rather benign use of the Voice, in intercepting a courier.

My agent was not mistaken in identifying him. More important than informing you, I am warning you. Do not intervene. Do not attempt to contact your cousin. I speak in strictest confidence: This cabal is not fated for success. It marches across dangerous ground.

It makes many fast enemies with its brashness and its strange heresies. It speaks of defying the blood. It speaks of the light of day. Before long, it will stumble upon a force not only resenting its words, but also possessing the power to stop its graceless walk.

Lady Mendoza, you cannot intervene. I do not make this request lightly. I hear murmurs from three factions, demanding the heads of these pilgrims. The first is a collective of Lasombra with clan sponsorship, who see the travelers as a threat to their Road. The second is a powerful coterie, some allies of mine, including an upand-coming Usurper named Meerlinda.

This coterie sees the pilgrims as a potential upset, as a potential trigger for a great revolt. The last group is a great brood of the Baali, of which we know little.

All three groups aim to see these wanderers eliminated, their message whatever that message may be silenced. Strange bedfellows, indeed.

I know your ambitions. I know your methods. And I also know that my telling you to remain mum on this issue may fall on deaf ears. If you truly wish to intervene, I implore you to abduct him. Find him, take him, and leave unnoticed. Employ an Assamite if you must. Do so as indirectly as you are able. You cannot risk being on that field when it becomes a slaughter.

On to kinder words. I have heard your petition for mentorship. I will be passing along my recommendation. With Utmost Sympathy, H. On the good t d ngs, I do bel eve the br ck n quest on comes from one of the Second Generat on.

I have all reason to bel eve th s. As you suspected, t comes from an oven. Further, the p ece has dent fy ng features, h d ng for those so ncl ned to uncover them. Cappadoc an. Th s s no co nc dence. If my research and d v nat on s correct, th s conf rms a long-stand ng bel ef supported by the Book of Nod. On to the bad t d ngs. I must say that I do not have long. These are not Lasombra assass ns; my s ght would p erce that blackness. These are someth ng else.

Each n ght, they come closer. On the f rst n ght, I could not throw a rock and h t the shadows f I tr ed. Now, I can make out d st nct f ngers on the r hands f I focus. They have s x f ngers. Some three centur es ago, I encountered a coter e who l kew se d d not need blood. They went over a month w thout. But at the end of th s per od, the hunger caught up w th them, they rended each other to shreds, then they fell apart at the very fabr c. All crumbled to the F nal Death.

If the shadows do not get me f rst, I know that th s shall be my fate as well. I have a solut on. Metamorphos s w ll be my salvat on. If my theory stands correct, fate follows dent ty, and metamorphos s changes dent ty. Do not w sh me luck.

W sh my ph losophy holds true. I need your assistance. And if you understand what this means, I do not need to elaborate. Those claiming to be free of the shackles of the blood? Soon, they shall arrive in Valencia.

I need your intervention. My sire has demanded my time, and in such a way I cannot refuse. But this matter must be attended to. A man called Augustine travels with them. He shares our blood. He must be eliminated. Make no mistake: This group will fall, and soon. They cannot have one of our clan in their ranks.

Whatever enslaves these travelers, we cannot be a party to it. It must be done, and must be done properly. Gabriella speaks well of your ability. For blood above all, —Lucita de Aragon. I have confirmed that Augustine fell in Valencia. Odder still, this author seems to think that his passing was largely accepted as coincidence, as an expected cost of their dream. Either that writer was mistaken, or the Crusade believed their dreams truly empowered to kill.

I do not discount this possibility. Their circumstances were sufficiently strange that they might rationalize anything. To the Lord Berwich Nothisen, Greetings. We spoke briefly during your excursion to Paris. I introduced myself, we spoke of your nascent bloodline.

A mutual acquaintance told me of your visit. She says a group of angels rode through her town, and blessed her and a few others. I need you to make her like you, clanless. After the initial feeding, which should be ample, I need you to not let her feed for some time. Wait one week. Perhaps two. See if she shows the signs of losing control, or the call to torpor.

If she does, feed her. If she does not, I need you to put a quickbeam shaft through her heart and ship her to me in Paris. In exchange, I will grant you a great blessing. I have many ears. More importantly, I have many ears about Saxony. I promise you that each Cainite lord in the region will recognize your nascent bloodline. My offer, while generous, is highly subject to time. I must have you commit this creation within one month, and I cannot promise you my support past that month.

So you must act quickly. But this window of opportunity is both rare and potent. I have leverage I can use in your favor, but I need to see results.

We can create great things. You know this is possible. Mister Jonathan Crowley, I know you watch our kind. My friend Anatole spoke of you, and told me where I could connect with you. I need to make this connection, and I hope you understand the gravity of why. My family faces eradication. Further, my race faces eradication.

My family, my kind, we know. We find, interpret, and we teach the secrets of the world when we can. Worse, we see the end; and like Cassandra, none will hear our tale. Some of our number no longer sup on the fruit of the living. I need to tell this story, these portents, to one not of our blood, but one not necessarily mortal.

You travel. You observe. You bear wisdom. You speak for a legacy thousands of years old. I will be as unto an open book. You know my kind enough to know how rare this opportunity is.

Take this story to your kind. I am a woman who has lost everything. I cannot lose any more. But, maybe, just maybe, you can carry our story forward. If we cannot have immortality in the blood, perhaps we can have immortality as a tale, as a piece of wisdom to carry on. He says you speak with the wisdom and free fickleness of a fox. That, I appreciate. I grow curious of what I may learn from you, if only from reverse observations. I want you to hear our tale.

I want you to protect our tale. I want you to share our tale. You are not of our blood, and thus, you may be able to preserve this message. If you can find out how to connect back with me, to find me, I will tell you my tale.

Great tidings, Teagan Watcher of Zao-Lat. Verdiana, Forget your name. Forget your family. For I will, and I wish to. The pilgrims march soon through your lands. Your second death, as you faked your first in Tuscany. Walk away from it all. Here is my offer.

Come to me. To the Courts of Love. I have the necessary blessing. The night grows short on the followers of Set. Other clans will follow in this race for purity. My sire tells me that perhaps only six or seven clans are safe in the long term. You can practice in the shadows, the way your clan has for aeons. These pilgrims, they are the second in a series of signs.

The first came just over a decade ago, when the sun was consumed by night. The third has the Clan of Death birthing their own destruction. We know not how long that will take. Then we see a serpent beheaded. I wish not for that serpent to be you. Consider my proposal. Even if you do not, please write. Each night, I worry your time has come and I was so very far away as to be ignorant of it.

December, Initiate Ambrus Kelemen, I apologize for the shortness of this message. I hope you understand the lack of proper formalities, and for having it appear on your person, invading your privacy. You said you saw their troops gather. We will win or lose this coming battle on your strength. I also need the best inventory you can provide. You said they bring great forces.

My best informant tells me one of their soldiers fled the Bloodless Crusade, and feeds not on the blood of the living. If you can verify this, we need to understand this phenomenon, since it could transform our entire operation at Ceoris. Any advice you have will be taken to heart. Understand that this is your chance, Initiate. Demonstrate greatness.

Let us show the world that our place in this world of Cainites is destined and immutable. I can only presume their attack will occur before the next moon. Alacrity is the utmost virtue in this endeavor. Place your report in the container in which you found this letter to deliver it to me. I believe you need this opportunity, that it could change your existence forever. My group, my fellow pilgrims, we have gone a month without blood. I cannot explain this in more certain terms: We have not fed, nor have we wanted for feeding.

My fellows believe this is our one true chance for redemption. I know of your plight, of your wife-to-be. I understand the tragedy of your story; I understand the devastation it must have caused. I want to see you helped. I see you as a beacon. I see you as hope. As his adherence to the Via Regalis falters, I wish to help catch him. I need something. I need a net. Each night, I hear more and more rumors that Hardestadt looks to see him destroyed. I owe him.

Walk with me, please. Help me find this net. I know you share my hope for better things. Be my walking companion. My talking companion. Help me to sort this out and make something of it. Help me to bring it to the world.

When you come to London, and I am confident you will, walk the riverside. Understand that we may never have this chance again. You can be part of that. I reach out to another of Tzimisce blood. I reach out for aid, for philosophy, and to teach and learn with the clan. Unfortunately, thus far my experiments have granted me no conclusions. And thus, I am calling a summit of sorts, a convocation of experts willing to put forth the rigor necessary to understand this oddity of the blood.

I understand the problems with urgency; however, time may be of the essence if we wish to grasp whatever was lost. I will be providing sustenance, and fulfilling any other needs. Come alone, or come with assistants if you must; mortal food needs will be of no consequence. My library is not what it could be, as the fires of crusade devastated it but decades ago.

Bring Theresa and Tara, they will be accommodated. I anticipate answers, as should you. Existence without vitae? Imagine, if you will, what advancements we could make with that additional time, without that overwhelming drive pressing our every action.

For many of us, this means centuries locked away, working toward our true passions. We stand on the precipice of greatness. Even outside the scope of best-cases, simply understanding our condition on a greater level is a boon. Your mind is valued.

Bring it. When tomorrow comes, let us stand at the forefront.

Ameba Ownd

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