by Dark Mistress Amy

Years ago, a childe was borne,
Into immortal death.
He gave her life, he gave her blood,
And stole away her breath.
Her tattered remains tossed about,
And put into this world.
With bloody hands and bloody lips,
Her dark lashes unfurled.
To play the puppeteer, she was.
To pull and pluck the strings.
To guide the kine and tell the story.
Oh, what wonderous things!
She grew tall beneath the light of the moon,
And her skin became pale with it’s tears.
Her lips and her eyes, a black gift from the night,
A visage to haunt all her years.
"Fabienne, Fabienne,"
Comes a sweet voice from her past.
"Not here," growls the voice,
Behind her harlequin’s mask.

by Father Deitrich Lenoj

It gazes upon me with false Death’s lust
It’s life had been taken , returned to the dust
It stares at me …. pale faced Death
It’s heart still beats , an immortal jest

It survives by the death , murder , taken life
An Immortal battle , Eternal Strife
The creature now speaks , an inhuman tone
It freezes my soul , to the core to the bone

It stands before me , a creature of night
My sanity forgotten , the fear of the sight
It exists without moral , all sins thought so mild
The Devil himself , or at least his dead child

It takes those so innocent for a taste of their soul
The shadows brings bloodshed , death black as coal
It stalks prey so helpless to play this mad game
The prey becomes victim each night it’s the same

It pauses but a moment to observe its new prey
A creature of night , denied forever the day
I saw then at least , I looked Death in the face
Death buried it’s fangs …. coup de grace

Floating in darkness , I feel life at last
In death I am healed , the ecstasy vast
The feeling of rebirth , the cold taint of ice
In a current of joy , I am crushed by the vice

Life fades away , in death I’m reborn
I’m no longer whole , my soul has been torn
It’s essence feels my body , a new life that’s not real
I lie dead in the snow , in a world I can’t feel

I’m no longer mortal , humanity ripped away
Forever the night , denied by the day
My heart still beats , but I breathe no breath
Immortal unlife , no escape from the Death

Praetorian
by Adamus

"I am Khalid," said the black man with the
bald head. "I will be your guide." Khalid’s reflecting sunglasses showed me my
own face, a battered and twisted mask of desperate fear. "Your guide into the realm
of pain." I shivered. Khalid stood a few feet away in front of the worn wooden chair
I was tied onto.
He looked like something that walked right out of a bad horror flick. Tall, dark skin, his
head perfectly bald, not a single hair visible. He was wearing a long black leather
trenchcoat, buttoned up to the top, and a pair of small round sunglasses hid his eyes.
Khalid was smiling, a soft menacing smile. His voice was actually quite soothing and
comforting, and I would have enjoyed listening to him had I not been selected as this
monster’s victim. 
I gathered the last of my willpower.
"Fuck you," I managed to whisper, although it lacked the defiance I would have
liked to have put in it.
I was a mess. Most of the bones in my body were either broken or bruised, and somehow I
was unable to use my Vitae to heal my wounds. Earlier I had tried to summon my inner
beast, knowing that Frenzy might be my only chance of survival. I failed. Somehow my
abductors had stripped me of the use of my Blood. It was almost as if I was human again. I
would have welcomed the return of my humanity under any other circumstances.
Khalid kept smiling. "Tsk tsk, no need to employ profanity, my Toreador friend."
He reached out and touched my forehead with two of his lean fingers. "It is best if
you remain silent." Folding his hands serenely before him, Khalid closed his eyes and
concentrated. Suddenly I felt as if my lungs burst out, extreme flashes of pain raging
through my chest as my own blood ravaged my veins. Violently I coughed up blood, trying to
bend over, but the ropes held me close to the chair. Vitae oozed from my mouth as the pain
subsided.
"You may scream of course," Khalid said in a mild tone as he opened his eyes
once more, barely visible behind the mirror surfaces of his shades. I couldn’t scream even
if I wanted to. I was too weak to inhale the air that screaming required. Not that I would
give him the pleasure of hearing my cries anyway.
I could hear a chuckle from behind Khalid. My eyes turned to look at the huge, demonic
creature that leisurely sat on one of the wooden boxes the loft was packed with.
"You find that amusing, John?" Khalid asked without turning towards the demon.
John was a demon. Standing over 6′5", muscles bulging all over his body, his skin a
pale purple, his eyes glowing continuously with a fierce red glare. Two large fangs
protruding from a mouth that always seemed to carry a smug grin on it, his black hair
rough and wild, accenting the horrific features of his face while at the same time
revealing the rows of needles, earrings and safety-pins that decorated his long pointed
ears. He looked like the Elf from Hell, but then worse. All-black, leather-and-chrome
clothing enhanced his threatening appearance even more.
"Yeah, I think it’s fucking hilarious," said John with a voice that sounded like
an earthquake combined with a speed-metal guitar going into overload. Khalid didn’t
respond, but smiled at me again. I mentally braced myself for another ride on the
pain-train.
"We could ask you all manners of questions regarding local Camarilla activities, pump
you for information about havens, leading figures and the local underworld, but we
won’t," Khalid stated. I wanted to ask him why the fuck then he and his monstrous
companion had dragged me from my haven and tied me to a chair in the loft of some decaying
mansion. Khalid continued after a short pause, no doubt meant to enhance the dramatic
effect of his next sentence.
"Instead, we will test the resilience of a random Kindred victim, in order to make a
valid assessment of the tenacity of our opposition in this charming little village."
Bullshit of course. He just needed an excuse for torture. Khalid smiled warmly at me.
"Let us proceed." My vision blurred as new waves of pain hit me, my body
spasming involuntarily as my blood boiled in my veins. I could hear John’s sadistic
laughter echoing through my mind. This was going to be a very long night…

by Ivo Luijenkijk

An official ruling for this phenomenon can be found in the Storyteller’s guide to the Sabbat. Below, you find a fan-created re-write. The material below can be considered offending to some, especially those of religious background. Reader discretion is advised. Know yourself.

If one decides to deal with the devil, one looses his soul. Therefore, every (N-)PC begins his (un-)life with 10 soul points. Every level of demonic investment bought requires the selling of one soul point. As our soul defines who we are, it is impossible to have a Humanity or path of enlightenment rating higher then your Soul rating, since your soul defines your humanity. If you are tricked into selling your soul and find out that you have in fact sold your soul, you may make a conscience roll. If you succeed, you may show redemption (see below). If not, then not.

If your soul ever reaches the 0 rating, you have completely handed your soul over to Satan. If you reach this stage, there are two roads which you can follow:

A: Show Redemption.
Take a derangement to re-buy the first point of your path of enlightenment or Humanity. With the assistance of a spiritual man or woman, you may prey to whatever name you use for the Divine one and beg him for forgiveness. During one session, make a conscience roll (diff. of 10-True Faith rating of the helper). For every success, regain a soul point. You may now begin to re-buy your Humanity or path of enlightenment. As soon as you reach your complete soul again, you loose all your demonic investments. This is a long and painful process and should be role-played as such.

B: Deal for the Devil.
If you have no intention of bowing down for the Lord, you may just as well embrace the Devil. For this, you replace your current path of enlightenment with the path of Inner Winter (see below) and take a derangement (religion based is appropriate). You may now start to buy souls for Satan yourself. For every three soul points you accumulate for Satan, you get one point of Dark Soul. This Dark Soul replaces your normal Soul. At no point can your Dark soul exceed your path of Inner Winter rating, because this path defines your "devilishness". Buying dark soul points costs 2*current rating of soul points. The first point of Dark soul costs 3 soul points, like for any other path. You may also spend dark soul points as normal soul points and buy even more demonic investments.

Once you’ve chosen this latter road, you have become a demon in the making. You are now a member of the local demonic temple(introduced by the one who bought your final soul points from you), in which you will take the most bottom position. This is based on your Dark Soul rating. Those with the highest Dark Soul are higher in this hierarchy. As your Dark Soul rating grows, it will begin to show on you as well(The changes in appearance are not important, they are mearly a representation for the state the follower is in):

Finally, as one reaches Dark Soul 10 (and has thus reached path of Inner Winter 10), one is required to commit suicide (see hierarchy of sins). If this is done, then that individual will be reborn as a lesser demon. Usually, the sacrifice is a ritual affair, with all the temple’s followers present. As his body of the one who was to commit suicide falls to the ground the other members of the temple begin their celebration and a three days and nights long party commences. During this time, the body is not touched. Then, the new highest in rank of the temple takes the body to a back room were it will be eaten by the animals of the temple. Once the last piece of flesh has been removed from the skeleton (usually by maggots, but some templars are known to boil the skeleton as to hasten this process), the Dark Soul of this newly formed demon rises as a demon in hell and makes his way beck to earth (if he desires). The demon has complete memory of his previous life. As demons have their own powers, I don’t think that retaining Disciplines, Gifts, etc. are in order.

The path of Inner Winter:

Ethics:

Mortals are sacrificial sheep and should be treated as such. Personal gain is useless, except as a sales pitch. Representatives of the Divine are the best subjects of practical jokes. Show reverence to and obey those higher then you on the path of Inner Winter, for they are closer to Satan then you.
Corrupt, corrupt, corrupt!!

Common Traits:

Talents: Empathy, Subterfuge.
Skills: Etiquette, Performance, Melee, Haggling, Seduction.
Knowledges: Occult, Medicine, Demon Lore.

Common Followers:

Anyone (bwuhahahahah!!!)

Hierarchy of Sins:

10: Refuse to sacrifice yourself for Satan.
09: Refuse to sacrifice those close to you for Satan.
08: Refuse to take the souls of those close to you for Satan.
07: Refuse to torture and murder for Satan.
06: Aid anyone not on this path without personal gain (for Satan, of course).
05: Show sympathy for the weak.
04: Refuse to take someone’s soul for Satan.
03: Refuse to assist someone else on this path.
02: Refuse to corrupt, like bring someone into the grasp of Satan’s machinations.
01: Refuse to defile a holy place.

by DoxWire

(Dave Hairy is a Glasswalker Galliard, His column has been read in many Sept newsletters nationally)

So I’m waiting in line to at Blockbuster video, Not because I was going to rent anything, but because we got a tip from the locak sept leader that the company was owned by Pentex and the staff were all Fomori. So basically we were going to purge the place of evil (read: spill some blood) Ok So I’m waiting in line with a video I’m pretending to rent (Dusk Till Dawn, I always laugh when the vampires die.) Anyway this guy bumps into me, and doesn’t even say excuse me.

I mean, talk about rude. He made me drop my tape on the floor, and didn’t even help to pick it up. What really erked me about this guy was the way he was dressed. You could tell by looking at him that he wasn’t a mortal. This guy had "Supernatural" written all over him. First off.. he was wearing a trenchcoat. Who wears a trench coat anymore? honestly? No one. and not only was this a trenchcoat, but he had a face concealing haircut and a pair of sunglasses.

To top it all off, he had a sawed off shotgun concealed in his coat. (I could tell because he decided to pull it on me after he bumped into me.) Oddly enough, none of the typical mortals seemed to notice the sawed off shotgun being pulled out of his jacket. Unfortunatley for me, I had already used my gifts to short out the cameras in the store so they wouldn’t see me killing the fomori clerks. Anyway, I cut the gunman in half and then went up to the counter and killed the two clerks. I got lucky on the second one, he ripped his tentacle out of his shirt and had me by the collar when my late as usual packmates came in and ripped it off of him.

Anyway, back to what I was saying, I can’t beleive how rude people are nowadays. I mean, even though this guy wasn’t a mortal, he didn’t have to pull a gun on me, I was just trying to kill some video clerks, it’s not like I was doing anything that might hurt this guy. Of course, once I realized he was going to shoot me I had to do something. But after I separated his torso from his hips, I apologized.

Anyway, It took about an hour to clean up the blood from trenchcoat boy and the two Fomori. So we decided to go relax at a bar. Unfortunatley, EVERY bar we came to was exactly the same. for some reason no mundane people hung out at ANY bar. There were nothing but supernaturals, Breaking the veil here and there. And there were at least 10 damn Trenchcoats in every single one of them. Of course.. Its hard to hang in clubs when 22 year old Elder garou come in, along with their so-ancient-they-are-gods Vampire dates. Hell, one time I saw some guy come in saying he was Caine.. Who I Guess is the leader of the leeches.

We separated his head from his collarbone. But you know what? We apologized afterwards.

by Dark Mistress Amy

There are Brujahs in the world.
There are Ventrue.
There are Tremere and Catiff, and then
There are those that follow the god Set, but
I’ve never been one of them.

I’m a Giovanni,
And have been since the day I was born,
And the one thing they say about the Giovanni:
They’ll take your corpse, even if it isn’t warm.

You don’t have to be a six-footer.
You don’t have to have a great brain.
You don’t have to have any clothes on. You’re
A Giovanni the moment the Don came,

Because

Every corpse is sacred.
Every corpse is mine.
If a corpse is lacerated,
I think they look just fine.

Every corpse is sacred.
Every corpse is great.
If my sire steals mine,
I’ll be quite irate.

Let the Sabbat get theirs
From Camarilla whores.
All those sect followers
Are really just big bores.

Every corpse is wanted.
Every corpse is good.
Every corpse is needed
We’re recycling our food!

Brujah, Pander, Gangrel,
Spill theirs without a care,
But Caine loves those who don’t just
Do that anywhere.

Every corpse is sacred.
Every corpse is great.
If my sire steals mine,
I’ll be quite irate.

Every corpse is wanted.
Every corpse is good.
Every corpse is needed
We’re recycling our food!

Every corpse is useful.
Every corpse is fine.
Some say there’s a limit and
We’ve done crossed that line!

Let them all cremate theirs
and stick them in an urn.
There’s no way I’ll let my
Decaying lover burn!

Every corpse is wanted.
Every corpse is good.
Every corpse is needed
We’re recycling our food!

Every corpse is sacred.
Every corpse is great.
If my sire steals mine,
I’ll be quite iraaate!

by WwTalikwW@aol.com

To Melody: "Sweet Childe Of  Mine" by GNR

She’s got a smile that it seems to me,
Reminds me of insane dentistry,
Where every kiss,
Was as dark as the night blue sky.
Now at night when I see her face,
She’s dragging victims away to that castle place,
And if they’re there too long,
Their bodies she’s got to hide……

OhhhOhh Sweet Childe of Mine
OhhhOhh Sweet Childe of Mine

She’s got eyes of the darkest skies,
As to her ghouls, she’s causing pain.
A white hot poker to the thighs,
And their tears will fall like rain.
Her hair reminds me, framing her angel’s face,
A devil behind her bite,
And I grin as I watch her, as she maims,
While my chest just swells with pride.

OhhhOhh Sweet Childe of Mine
OhhhOhh Sweet Childe of Mine

Where did she go
Where did she go now
Where did she go
Sweet Childe
Where did she go now

by Adamus

A room… dark… scarce streetlight pouring in through thin curtains… a large bed… a cabinet… a closet… Ahmed Jamal Hadd, Silsila of clan Assamite, stands motionless in a bedroom of an uptown mansion. He is unseen, unheard, invisible to all save the most powerful supernaturals in existence. Muscles trained through centuries keep his body motionless, a statue of undead flesh and bone. He knows such precautions are hardly necessary when employing the forces of Obfuscate, but Ahmed is not one to take chances in these cases. Thoroughness is his trademark, perfectionism his nature.

He waits with patience born from age. Senses enhanced beyond the capacity of even the keenest animals observe the Assamite’s surroundings, paying intricate attention to minute detail. A floorboard two floors down squeeks as a ghouled servant walks over it. A dying flame whispers softly as someone’s breath caresses it. A heart beats in a woman’s bossom as she sleeps, seperated from Ahmed by nine walls and a ceiling. Nothing escapes his attention… Minutes stretch into hours, the moon crosses the span of the star-filled sky.

The bedroom door opens, a woman enters. Her beauty rivals that of modern day’s most celebrated icons, her prowess would embarass many an adversary, her influence carries beyond the borders of nations. She is Caroline Montague Tehleino. She is the target. Ahmed remains in his position, invisible in a corner of the dark room, Caroline oblivious to the assassin’s presence. The killer watches his target move about, closing the thick black curtains shut, undressing, slipping under the covers of her large, colonial-style bed.

Daybreak approaches, and the beings of the night lay themselves to rest. Ahmed feels the stirring of sleep in his undead body, but by pure force of will he stays awake. Alert. Ready. He waits as the daily sleep of vampires claims Caroline. When day is well into its second hour, and his target has not stirred since, Ahmed moves. His blood, powered through age, burns in his body, activating his Disciplines, allowing him to move with a speed and accuracy unattainable by most.

A wooden stake, one foot long, finds its way into Caroline’s heart as the assassin forces it into her chest. Her eyes open wide as he strikes down, but her body fails to obey her commands, rendered inert by the mystical force of the stake. Flawlessly Ahmed incapacitates his target. No sound escaped the room, no sensors are alerted. The house is quiet. The Assamite does not allow himself to smile as he looks down upon the still form of Caroline Tehleino. His work is not yet complete.

Accessing the powers of the blood available only to members of his reclusive clan, Ahmed wills his vitae to come to the surface of his skin, to the palm of his left hand. He clenches his hand into a fist, opening Caroline’s mouth with the fingers of his right hand. His blood drips from his fist onto Caroline’s mouth, and her eyes grow yet wider, a look of horror visible. The assassin’s blood does its work, stripping Caroline of her vitae, destroying her from the inside. Within moments, it is over. Caroline’s eyes close, her body grows limp. Ahmed removes the stake and steps back, observing Caroline’s body… she remains still. Torpored. Her body no longer capable of supporting her undead nature, yet that very undead nature allowing her to exist yet. Ahmed knows a great deal of time will pass before this Tehleino can pull herself from the artificial death Ahmed has inflicted upon her. The Assamite Silsila smiles and steps back into invisibility, leaving the mansion as he came, unseen, unheard, invisible…

by DoxWire

Some have pondered…. why don’t vampires have advice columns (Ok.. no one has EVER pondered this.. fine.. but just work with me people.. OK?!?)

Here are examples of why vampires do not have advice columns.

Dear Wesley:
Help! I have not been embraced long, but I am what they call a Thin-blood.. and.. I think I got my girlfriend pregnant, after my embrace.. what do I do? Help me please..
Still-gets-it-up

Dear Hardy:
The problem with Balloon animals is that they make that squeaky noise and that gets so annoying, Plus you forget they are ballons and try to get some blood from them if you’re starving and they POP right on your fangs

Dear Nossie:
My night companion is leaning towards prettier girls, Should I use Obfuscate or Vicissitude to improve my looks for her?
Ugly-in-the-undead

Dear Undead:
UGLY?!?!?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW ABOUT BEING UGLY?!?

Dear Haqmed:
I think someone wants me dead, what should I do?
Paranoid Prince

Dear Paranoid:

Dear Raoul:
I think the prince is planning to declare a bloodhunt on me. What should I do?
Knee shaking neonate

Dear Neonate:
I have better things to do with my time than listen to you. I suggest you turn yourself in to me. NOW ::Dominate::

Dear Talik:
I’m having trouble with a kid on this AOL message board.. what should I do?
Online and Upset

Dear Online:
Find out where he lives and kick some ASS

Dear Reaper of Flesh:
My boyfriend left me for another woman.. what should I do?
Alone and Angry

Dear Alone:
Rearrange his face.

Dear Maxwell:
My Sire is very overprotective. How can I show him that I am able to fend for myself?
Concerned Childe

Dear Childe:
You must slay him! only then can you truly be independent!!!!

Dear Dante:
I am finding myself more and more unsatisfied with my women. What should I do?
Can’t-get-it-up

Dear Can’t:
Ever fuck a corpse? ooooooh yeah…. mmmpf

Dear Basil:
I want to be a painter. How should I pursue it?
Brushes of Brimstone

Dear.. Brimstone:
Your work is shallow and lacks real focus. You don’t have enough emotion in the painting.. next time, try candles instead of jumper cables.

Dear Mateo:
I think my lover is really a man.. what should I do?
Scared in the Sheets

Dear Scared:
……::dead::

Dear Rameses the Fowl Headed:
I am trying to figure out where I stand in life… what should I do?
Unsure undead

Dear Unsure:
The path of typhon is the only way ::cluck cluck:: When Set Rises again…. you will know. for all shall bow to him!!! MWA HA HA!!!!!!!!