New Vamps

The Vampyre of this generation linger at the threshold of abomination. Once a powerful deathright now only shreds of a languished blood bond. The Ancillae grow numerous and the old hands retire for the long slumber, only to awake to the vastness of superfluous technology and a world of sired embraced, but lost as long as sleep itself. Games of social status and simplistic ideals of the forevermore linger a long finger to the pulse. Look at them, they grow weaker and long for the solace once again. They no longer feed, as it is always available. We remember the unfathomable blood magic of old, but these nights these sucklings merely regard once obtainable skills of the night as mere legend. When turning into mist and bats were held to those who refined their blood, we now find common fledglings at the lower ends of the kindred romanticizing such notions. Look at them, only traces of the original bloodlines still left. Names of the Tremere and Tzimisce are now whispers on bloody lips wrapped around a wine glass. It is time for the old ones to rouse from their sleep. and bring the bloodlines back to its former splendor. Come here baby bat, and I will tell you the story of my queen, and of the truest embrace.