saber de clanes 344257123-V20-Lore-of-the-Bloodlines-11056187-pdf | Page 57

comes with as many perks as it does disadvantages. Should one
of our line desire attention at an esbat, all she need do is show
her face. Should the same Kiasyd wish to strike terror into her
enemies — or friends, for that matter — she must simply smile.
Unfortunately, being on the fringe has also lost us the trust
of other vampires. Our practices seem unusual to others,
but come as second nature to us. The heart wants what the
heart wants, and all that. Just because other Clans are so
unrefined as to balk at feeding from sleeping children and
drinking changeling blood, doesn’t mean we can’t profit
from their lack of sophistication.
Bloody Politics
The Sabbat isn’t the only Sect in which we grow
prominent. You recall I mentioned the Prince of Strasbourg?
Marconius has been so for a decade now, finally taking up
the offer of Toreador sanctuary. The Lasombra of Spain
made a strangled noise when it occurred, but even they
care little about him. Any assassins they send run the risk
of discovery by watchful Camarilla, and as Marconius has
always been seen as a raving fool, it hardly seems worth
the effort.
Giangaleazzo, he is not.
Our small voice in the Sabbat grows louder these nights,
due to the earnest efforts of Béatrice L’Angou in Montreal
and Reverend McCabe in Washington D.C.
McCabe’s a dandy and talks like an Appalachian
televangelist, but he plays the political game well. He’s a
highly respected Noddist Bishop, and lately there’s even
been talk of his stepping up as temporary ruler of the
capital in Archbishop Vykos’ absence. These rumors have
roused the jealous anger of various Lasombra, but none can
deny McCabe was integral to the collapse of the corrupt
bishopric within Detroit.
McCabe espouses an elevation of bloodlines and antitribu
within the Sabbat, decrying the constant deferral to
Lasombra and Tzimisce as the leading cause of our Sect’s
failings. Given the growing numbers within his target
audience, his is an easy cause on which to pin one’s colors.
His words resound with enough truth to make listeners
ignore his translucent flesh. The Sabbat would do well to
continue his message.
L’Angou’s knowledge of the Sabbat’s history is second-to-
none. Her ability to recall names, dates, words exchanged, and
pack territories in every Sabbat city goes beyond impressive.
Sages from throughout the Sword of Caine make pilgrimage
to Montreal to get the truth of a contract signed centuries
before, or clarification on archaic points of contention. She’s
often utilized as peacemaker between warring packs, and has
even arbitrated disputes between Prisci.
Béatrice is an inspiration. She’s attempted to unify our
bloodline after being burgled by the traitor of 1916. There’s
now a bounty on the thief capable of making any Kiasyd’s
head turn; five decades as Béatrice’s apprentice, and freedom
to review any of her texts, should the thief be caught. Never
before has she opened her library’s doors. Contrary to my
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expectation of this offer leading to bitter competition, lines
of communication have re-opened between long estranged
Kiasyd, in an effort to benefit from Béatrice’s largesse.
Of course, Kiasyd fond of conspiracies may doubt
Marconius’ madness. Maybe he spent his last millennium
playing chump so the Lasombra would underestimate him.
Perhaps now that he’s got the safety of the Camarilla and
has mastered the qualities he acquired through communion
with the Abyss, he’s something more than Kiasyd. Maybe
he can now entreat the Tremere as an equal, as he readies
to lash out against all who wronged him. The Camarilla
won’t have taken him in unless he had something to offer,
after all. Or perhaps he’s intending on betraying Camarilla
to Sabbat!
Wheels within wheels. Stare too long, and you
become dizzy.
McCabe and Marconius aside, Kiasyd rarely engage in
politics. We’ve always been more entranced by research, the
accumulation of knowledge, and its application. Whether
creating life or something more metaphysical, we’ve gained
the urge to create since our Embrace. The Sabbat allows us
to play doctor more freely than the Camarilla, but we do
appreciate their Masquerade. Since Marconius’ swerve, a
number of Kiasyd have silently followed him to Camarilla
domains and met little resistance. The Tremere seem quite
keen to experiment with Kiasyd vitae, and vice versa. I
suppose the greatest affront is the Sabbat seem happy to
let us go. It’s nice to know how valued we aren’t.
Despite their rudeness, I’ve always felt at ease in the
presence of Clan Lasombra. They wear the Abyss like
a cloak, and we are byproducts of the Abyss. Yes, we’re
treated like scum, but if they weren’t around I doubt the
remainder of the Sabbat would vouch for us. Lasombra
encourage us to study for them, take on risky experiments
for them, and generally endanger our existences for them.
They think we’re lapdogs. They don’t realize how much
we enjoy the role.
KIASYD