Saber de lineas de sangre 344257123-V20-Lore-of-the-Bloodlines-11056187-pdf | Page 43

Lazarus
Lazarus resisted. Father’s childe rebuked the fallacy
of our failure, and led a horde of fellows from Ashur’s
slaughterhouse to the safety of Egypt. We survivors called
ourselves “Lazarenes,” and diverted our death magics into
assisting the Followers of Set, for whom Lazarus possessed
fondness. I followed Lazarus in anguish for my personal
loss, and rage for the contacts, agents, and plans put to
ruin by a maniac’s purge.
“Of what dire crime could we be so guilty as to surrender
eternal life?” was a question asked frequently by Lazarus and
his disciples. We spread throughout the African continent
in efforts to coax any surviving, disenfranchised members
of our Clan to the fold, using Lazarus’ honeyed words of
vengeance and former glories. We occasioned to travel
overseas to do likewise, but Ashur’s minions were keen to
obliterate us when we encountered them. From this point,
the shadow war between the sycophantic devotees of Father
and we Lazarenes commenced, and never really ceased.
Our mantra was simple: “We will present Ashur with
the skulls of those he murdered, before shredding his soul
as he destroyed ours.”
Some among my kin place our founding as Harbingers
at the point of Ashur’s great betrayal. Lazarus united us
in hatred for Father. I realize before — when we acted as
regal worms in the bellies of other Cainite domains — we
lacked a formal title. Despite this, it was mostly the former
Cainites I knew — and know — as Harbingers who flocked
to Lazarus’ banner.
In any case, titles lack relevance in the greater story.
The Followers of Set requested tutelage in necromancy,
offering half a millennium’s protection as payment. They
were keen to use our gifts for tracing the spiritual path of
their god. There were those among us who taught Setites
basic rituals and powers affecting the body, but Lazarus was
clear we must never explain how the souls of the dead may be
summoned, or their lands entered. This agreement survived
for little over a century before the Serpents’ demands became
such that if we refused, we would be cast to the desert winds.
Our greatest assets were ever the clandestine information
we accrued in our centuries of service to other Clans, and
our gifts of necromancy. When it came to our survival,
we chose to divulge all information accumulated on the
domains, personages, and abilities of the Assamites. It was a
grand cache of intelligence, which I understand the Setites
put to destructive use. Begrudgingly, the Setites ensured
our sanctuary was maintained for a few centuries more.
42
Purging the Sin
True disciples of Lazarus would have you believe he
manipulated the Giovanni family into their betrayal of
Ashur and his vapid lickspittles. I’m not nearly so blinded
by devotion. Lazarus saved us from Father, but he was
unprepared for the Giovanni’s pogrom.
We all felt reverberations from the attack. As Father’s
spirit splintered, and a part plummeted to whatever hell
awaited it, his descent acted as an anchor. Those of us not
pulled to the Shadowlands in his wake were mystified,
and unprepared for the regimented attacks the Giovanni
brought against us. If Father delivered the mortal wound
to our Clan, theirs was the killing blow.
I consider it a disgrace that we were forced to retreat to
the same Underworld prison Ashur sent our kin. It was the
one place the Giovanni were too weak to explore. Lazarus
implored us to retreat, and offered salvation even to the
adulators of our dying Father, if they were prepared to
forsake Ashur and his hold.
With haste we tied up affairs, aware of our impending
death sentence. Cainites who knew and appreciated us
could not understand our swift, yet melancholic actions
as we settled debts and archived records for lifetimes to
come. The destruction of Father was — although a joy —
also a great shame. This was vengeance denied, snatched by
capricious fledglings and neonates. Few of us communicated
reasons for our depressing exodus to the tender mercies of
the Shadowlands. Lazarus advised that a city of vampires
in the Underworld awaited those of us who could find
it, but few discovered the trail. For an interminably long
time, we roamed the lands of the dead, tormented by the
wraiths we once attempted to control.
The fate of our kin who remained in the lands of the living
is known to Cainite scholars, but some footnotes were lost.
Notably, one Roger de Camden petitioned for our Clan’s
admittance to the Camarilla. My understanding is while Clans
Brujah, Nosferatu, and Ventrue agreed to the proposal, the
Toreador, Tremere, Malkavian, and Gangrel quietly decided
no alms would be given. Their rejection damned my wayward
kin. The budding Camarilla drew our ire for their inaction.
Ashur’s acolytes were ours to punish, and the Camarilla
allowed Giovanni to play executioner.
Voyage down the Styx
The Underworld is a terrifying place to spend a single
night, let alone several centuries. The majority of Harbingers
lost their minds, bodies, and spirits to hungry wraiths, and
HARBINGERS OF SKULLS