Saber de lineas de sangre 344257123-V20-Lore-of-the-Bloodlines-11056187-pdf | Page 96

A New Hunger Second Chances
After this brutal betrayal, those who had drunk the blood of
the Second Generation were never quite the same. Something
primal had risen inside them. Blood became more than just
sustenance. Anger became rage and frenzy. Fear became
terror. Behind it all was the siren call of elder blood and a
desperate urge to taste that sweetest of nectars once more. We did make one attempt to restore our Clan to what it
was. The traitor Brujah were still our brothers and sisters, and
we felt they were owed one more chance, even after all their
crimes. They were simply errant children who didn’t know
better, and we hoped to educate them so they might blossom
once more.
Among our Clan, the difference was more pronounced.
Perhaps our passions, held in check for so long, burst out
with a greater hunger. Kindred society had changed forever,
and those of ours who had partaken seemed infected with
this passion more than most. They burned with a rage that
was almost alien to us, and one that few understood well
enough to control. Troile was among the worst. He (or she
of course, depending on your source material) may have
been embraced as a scholar, but after the fall of the Second
Generation, he knew rage like no other. So, a few of us returned to infiltrate the Clan. The Kindred
had spread like a poison across the world, and it was a simple
matter to slide back into the low ranks of our brethren. We
remained on the sidelines and observed, and to our surprise,
found something of us still remained among the new Brujah.
They were still brutal and angry, but some of them still yearned
for the peace of study. Many were frustrated by the anger that
destroyed their focus and dreamed of regaining the control
they had lost so long ago.
Unfortunately, many of those infected with this
overwhelming rage had no desire to control it. Instead,
they reveled in it. Our Clan gradually became two separate
factions; those who remained pure of the new taint and those
who cast aside the peace of studious calm for the instant
gratification of rage and passion. These new Brujah were
hungry and dangerous, and wanted everything right now.
They refused to apply any discipline to the study of time,
and learnt only as much as they needed to make themselves
faster and more deadly. They eschewed their studies to run in
packs and hunt — often more for entertainment than to feed.
The final straw came when Troile, the leader of the new
Brujah, decided to claim control of the Clan. We foolishly
believed there was enough of the old Brujah within him to
negotiate, but we were naïve to assume so. Troile and his
followers fell upon Brujah at their meeting, his uncontrollable
hunger forcing him to murderous rage against his progenitor.
That very night, we left it all to Troile. His followers hunted
us across the city, murdering any who lingered. But once
that carnal act was complete, they had no stomach to hunt
us further.
But we had foreseen this. While we lay in tatters as a Clan,
we were purged of the weak and immature among ourselves,
and better for it. Were it not for the fall of the Second
Generation, we might never have separated the unfit from
our own numbers. “Clan” or “bloodline” are just names and
really mean nothing. The eldest and cleverest of us survived,
and the greatest lore was now hidden in our secret archives.
We were free of the Jyhad, outside the eternal struggle that
would consume the other Kindred eventually. It might not
come for millennia, but we have always played the long
game. To us, this was ultimately a victory.
There was hope, and so we began to steer them towards a great
new project. Together, we built a city called Carthage. It was a
place of learning, a place of peace and prosperity. We tried to
live together with the kine, in a symbiotic relationship instead
of as predator and prey. Mostly we did this as infiltrators, but
we were able to reveal our true nature to a few of the elders.
We held great hope for the Clan and the future.
But the Jyhad could not be denied. We blame the Ventrue
as its tools, but it might have been any Clan. The hunger
resided in all of them, turning them into animals once more.
When the city fell, we hoped the new Brujah would come to
us. If the city burned but we reclaimed our own from their
passions, it would be a victory.
But it was not to be. As their enemies crashed against the
gates, the new Brujah did not look to save the lore that had
been gathered; instead they gave way to anger and rage. They
left the books to burn and took up arms to claim vengeance
against the Ventrue and their allies. We let them burn with
the city, sad and ashamed that we could not save our brethren
from themselves. But we did not leave without righting one old
wrong. A group of us came upon Troile, wild with bloodlust
and rage, and buried him in sand and time. His punishment
was long overdue, and the balance needed to be redressed
for his crimes. Perhaps without the worst of them, the fallen
Brujah might find some measure of control, though they
were lost to us now.
An Alliance
Against the Jyhad
As centuries passed, we continued our work. We had
secreted great stores of lore, and in time even the usurper
LORE OF THE BLOODLINES
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