Saber de lineas de sangre 344257123-V20-Lore-of-the-Bloodlines-11056187-pdf | Page 88

Samedi is an example to those who might have the ability to
keep it hidden. For a Clan that prides itself as negotiators and
shrewd businessmen, isn’t it sad to see the temper tantrums
thrown when they end up on the bad side of a deal for once?
Laissez Les Bon
Temps Roulez
Though we were born in the islands, the Samedi now
stretch throughout the world. Most of our Kindred exist alone
or in pairs where they do, but we’ve come a long way from
being the sole vampire claiming multiple plantations as our
domain. We’re usually okay with working and playing well
with others, though it often takes time and effort to establish
those relationships. Both the Camarilla and the Sabbat are
uncomfortable with us unless we take steps to make nice.
Most of the time, the Camarilla’s beef with us is shallow
but important: we look like walking, talking corpses, and
they have a Masquerade to uphold. It’s understandable, but
it also means that if something goes down in the city, we’re
usually number one on the scapegoat list. They do the same
thing to their own members, but since we’re not an official
part of the club, we don’t have anyone to back us up. Even
if you make friends with, say, the Nosferatu, they’ll shrink
into the shadows quickly if that means you take the fall for
something they did.
The Sabbat, on the other hand, don’t give a shit about
how we look. They don’t give a shit about much, really,
which is why they want to tear it all down. You’d think that
an organization that causes so much death would be one
we’d get behind, but you’d be wrong. Death is a natural part
of the world. Senseless death caused by manmade disasters
and senseless violence is not. They stomp whatever gets in
their way and then either blow town when things get rough
or do it again if anyone stands up to them. We don’t like to
cause trouble, and the Sabbat do nothing but.
We share a lot of space with the Setites and their rivals
in the Sabbat, the Serpents of the Light. The bad news is
that because a lot of their Kindred have adapted voodoo
trappings in their rituals and Disciplines, they give the
Baron a bad name. By the time you’re done explaining the
difference between the loa, petro, and rada magic, your haven
is already on fire. The good news is that because they hate
each other so much, they rarely look at us as a threat. Often,
they assume that we’re on their side and want to help screw
over the other guy. If you can play that game right — and
don’t mind a slow, painful death if you screw up — you can
live pretty large off of the middle ground.
Many of the Anarchs brush off our talk of the loa as
superstitious foolishness. This seems like a silly thing for a
bunch of vampires to concern themselves with, but it’s usually
cover for fears about us as Setite spies and saboteurs. We’ve
done well by the Baron, so their calls for taking down the
Kindred in power usually fall on deaf ears... if we even have
ears in the first place. They do, however, have excellent access
to criminal contacts and the sorts of people who pay us for
our abilities, so writing them off completely is probably not
the best option.
Many of us still call the islands of the Caribbean home.
We’re stretched out through several of the larger cities, even if
only a member or two in each. It’s been this way for hundreds
of years, and may be why we don’t have much in the way of
organization or political power. You’ll find a handful of us in
Port-au-Prince and Port Royale, but the only time there is a
large gathering is when the Baron makes his presence known.
The Day of the Dead is the one day he’s sure to be in Port-au-
Prince. I’ve heard that if you find the true Baron, any favor
you ask of him will be done in honor of the loa.
As civilization conquered North America, the cities called
us there. We’re not as urban-bound as some of the other
Clans, but having a ready food source and easily collected
dead bodies became a situation too easy to pass up. We have
a few singular members that have travelled all throughout
the continent, but we have two cities where a few of us have
gathered as in influential presence. New Orleans, of course,
thanks to its reputation for both piracy and voodoo. We’ve
recently strengthened our position there in the aftermath of the
storms that shook the old power structure to the core. Miami
also feels like home to a few of us because of the island refugee
populations that wash ashore on a daily basis. It’s also the base
of operations for Boca Muerte, a Samedi who smuggles items
in his coffin by shipping himself places as a corpse.
Some of us returned to the origin of vodou in West Africa.
This is where we step between the Setites and the Serpents of
the Light most often. There are other forces at work here as
well, but with all the different things on the menu, we don’t
stand out as often as we do elsewhere in the world. A rotting
corpse whistling in the heat is far less dangerous than a clash
between snakes. Africa offers an excellent mix of being able
to work openly while not running against those who take
offense to not being careful about being hidden.
Digging Our Own Graves
No matter where you go around the world, there will
always be a criminal element. We often fall in with them
because of our perpetual status as outsiders. If you’re willing
to do dirty work, nobody cares if it looks like you got hit by a
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