To Serve As an Example...

Justicar,

No doubt you have already heard of the fire that raged in the merchant district of Rome. The conflagration was caused by one of the Conspirators of Isaac, Lord Mieczyzslav of the Fiends. He attacked my companion, Iakov Mysi, without provocation. But this is not the worst of it. The Tzimisce sought to violate the First Tradition and flaunt his powers!

Lord Mieczyzslav set fire to the merchant house to gain the attention of the masses, transformed into a monstrous creature and escaped into the night sky. Clearly, he wished to sow chaos and fear among the masses and break the Masquarade which we have worked long and hard to maintain.

I urge you to include his name in the Red List so that we, the Alastors, might bring him to justice. We cannot let this go unpunished as others may view it as a weakness and follow his lead. We should make him as an example to all those who would defy the Masquarade and flaunt their powers...


Sincerely,

Stoyan
Alastor

A personal musing shared to the darkness of night

I have uncovered a missive that has been left behind in the dark catacombs of the Lord Hardestadt's estate in Rome.   The letter was intricately written, and its meaning carefully concealed in what I can only describe as a simple form of polyaphabetic substitution.  The letter seemed to be a mess of nonsensical letters at first, but it took precious little time for me to note the consistent placement and gaps between groups to see the substitution that the cipher relied upon.  What was harder what finding a way to break the code since the substituted letters did not seem to repeat themselves in a recognizable pattern.   This reminded me of the book  La cifra del Sig. Giovan Battista Bellasco in which the author described a cipher that made use of a series of different Caesar ciphers based on the letter of a keyword.

The nature of the note, with its precise handwriting (the letters were practically of the same height and width, and to hold the letter folded against the light had the letters match perfectly) and the justification of the hand-written text reminded me of one person among the many visitors the Lord Hardestadt had that day.  The similarity of the author's name to the events that were relevant to the writer was the final clue I needed to break the vigenère cipher .


The keyword clearly was giovanni.
And the author, the young Hanz Braun Viecht.


The contents are disturbing, to say the least.   I am uncertain if I should share this missive to the other Founders.  Or to the Children of the Conspiracy.

¿ǝʌıl llıʇs ı op ʎɥʍ

˙sɹɐǝʎ pǝɹpunɥ ɐ ɹǝʌo ɹoɟ pɐǝp uǝǝq ǝʌɐɥ noʎ ʇnq
˙ɹǝɥʇoɯ 'noʎ spuıɟ ɹǝʇʇǝl sıɥʇ ɥsıʍ ı

˙oʇ ʇuɐʍ ı ǝsnɐɔǝq ɹǝɥ ɹoɟ llıʞ llɐɥs ı 'sǝɯoɔ ǝɯıʇ ǝɥʇ uǝɥʍ ʇɐɥʇ puɐ  ˙ǝuolɐ ɹǝɥ puɐ ɹǝɥ ǝʌɹǝs ı ǝɯ spuıɯǝɹ ʇɐɥʇ ǝɔıoʌ ɐ   ˙pıp ɹǝʌǝ s,ɹǝɥʇoɯ ʎɯ uɐɥʇ ǝɹoɯ uǝʌǝ ǝɯ sʇɹoɟɯoɔ ʇɐɥʇ ǝɔıoʌ ʇɟos ɐ  ˙ɹǝɥ ɹɐǝɥ uɐɔ ı 'ƃuıʞool sı ǝuo ou uǝɥʍ puɐ

˙ǝnƃuoʇ s,uɐʎoʇs uı slnos ʎɹǝddoɔ ǝɥʇ ǝʇsɐʇ uɐɔ ı  ˙lnos s,uɐɟǝʇs uı ʎʇıuɐɯnɥuı ƃuıʍoɹƃ ǝɥʇ llǝɯs uɐɔ ı  ˙sdıl s,ʌoʞɐı uı ɹɐǝɟ pǝıɹɹoʍ ǝɥʇ ɹɐǝɥ uɐɔ ı  ˙ʇɹɐǝɥ ƃuıʇɐǝqun s,lǝɥɔıɯ uı ǝƃɐɹ pǝuıɐʇuoɔ ǝɥʇ ǝǝs uɐɔ ı  ˙sǝıpoq ɹıǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɹɥʇ ˙spuıɯ ɹıǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɹɥʇ  ˙ǝɯ oʇ ƃuıʞɐǝds ɯǝɥʇ ɹɐǝɥ uɐɔ ı 'sɹǝʇsuoɯ ʍollǝɟ 'spuǝıɹɟ ʎɯ ǝǝs ı uǝɥʍ puɐ

˙uɐɯ ɐ ɹǝƃuol ou ɯɐ ı

˙sƃuıuɹɐǝ ɹnoʎ ɟo sɹɐǝʎ uǝǝʇɟıɟ uǝʞɐʇ pɐɥ ʇɐɥʇ ʎʇısɹǝʌıun ǝɥʇ oʇ ǝɯ ǝʞɐʇ oʇ sɐʍ ʇɐɥʇ ǝƃɐıɹɹɐɔ ǝɥʇ uo ʇɐs ı sɐ llǝʍǝɹɐɟ pıq noʎ ʇlnpɐ ǝɥʇ ɹǝƃuol ou ɯɐ ı  ˙ʇǝƃɹoɟ ɹǝʌǝu llıʍ ı sǝɔɐɟ ǝsoɥʍ uǝɯ ʎq pǝʎoɾuǝ ǝɹǝʍ sǝɔıʌɹǝs ɹnoʎ ǝlıɥʍ ǝʇıɹʍ puɐ pɐǝɹ oʇ ʇɥƃnɐʇ noʎ uɐɯ ƃunoʎ ǝɥʇ ɹǝƃuol ou ɯɐ ı  ˙ʎɐd oʇ ƃuıllıʍ ǝɹǝʍ oɥʍ ǝsoɥʇ ɹoɟ spooɥ puɐ sʞɐolɔ ƃuıuɹɐp ʇɥƃıu ǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɹɥʇ pǝʞɹoʍ noʎ ǝlıɥʍ noʎ ǝpısǝq ʇdǝls ǝɔuo ʇɐɥʇ plıɥɔ ƃunoʎ ǝɥʇ ɹǝƃuol ou ɯɐ ı  ˙ǝɯ ɟo ǝɯoɔǝq sɐɥ ʇɐɥʍ ɟo pıɐɹɟɐ ɯɐ ı

'ɹǝɥʇoɯ

I Am Sabbat

Sabbat.

It's such a strange word, but it's what they've chosen to call people like me. And now I've been given some sort of strange pardon by the Camarilla in order to serve their purposes.

I'm not at all surprised - clearly the Founders can't ignore what we have learned to embrace. They throw the term "Sabbat" around as if it's dirty and vile and ultimately wrong but they're just denying their true natures. They struggle to turn their backs on their true powers and abilities and the true blessings this undead existence has granted us. We are cursed in so many ways but at the same time gifts with such amazing abilities.

I don't know why I continue to play along with this routine. Perhaps it's just idle curiosity of some sort. Maybe it's because that as loathe as I am to admit it, my fellow Children are the closest I can get to having some sort of a family anymore. After my embrace, there was no hope of truly returning home. I am no longer human after all. We're all more than just human. But the limited feelings of kinship and familiarity that I have left in this world are limited to the Children.

Especially after the Cathedral fell.

Vlad keeps returning to my thoughts. Is this some sort of a message? Should I return to my childe? Is he the family that I'm supposed to care for and keep safe? What a thought! Vlad was never one to need protection - he's much stronger than most give him credit for. The lengths he is willing to go for power, well, I cannot help but feel an odd sense of pride.

But the Children, well, they are still a confused little group who spend more time fearing their own abilities for the sake of The Masquerade.

And thus they call me Sabbat.

A message sent to a non-existent place

Swhcee,

V is itmavq wl evvt una hmqjmr bn sm.  W vm ab tuvuzr gum ewiig puqrl hcag bvim ggecg jkawye lbc cpwge lbc cwffeq gpxwibh gum tquct qnztqbb cybiqa oid ubwja tjr guwym kco jrzk ewglvao zw dvy.  V nu tw zjntrz zps tohao sib toh giaovo tb emgl oid jeqzm kciyr gucf neeiqimg reer mtrcteq og smb rhbfm liqzs V jqrt bzvre nuzuzt.  V nu tw zjntrz zps vdhyb ewi wiq sixmkzly na O aoo oa gpk komrvnok bvvt jna zw hvkr zm zw hce haqbmfnigl bnih caq giqmb aisgmkv mzaef wl gcpr rnztqbbs.

V nu tw zjntrz g uoi.

Aaq enmb D srr ue nfdeaqa, lmzgoj zwtahzrf, V kgv vzae gpku gkenxqto hj mr.  Gpxwibh gumoz adnqf. Bnzcpgu gpkqf woqvmy.  Q qvn frm zps xoagiovsy rntm ov Adcurt'y cbwengqto vzaeg.  Q iib cene bnm kjrevmj nsvr va Qgscq's yvxy.  Q qvn fzmrt hce tewcqbb iaucsibdtl vv Ybsaaa'f aucz.  D cna bgahz tur kuxdzrl fwatg dn Fgweib'n tbaoam.

Oid jumt vc jnr va rwcfiat, Q iib cene pkz.  O nosg duqqz tunb iwaaoega sm sqea zwxm hcaa zg swhcee'f mbmf yiq.   N duqqz tunb xmadnqf uk Q gzrir pkz oid urz gtcie.  Nal zpoo wurv zps oizr kuusn, I fuirt ydly swx psm brpiaas D wnab zw.

W rifu bnqg geggmx nwidf lwa, ucohre.
Jab mju undk jszn qrij ncm oirz g piiderl emoms.

Jug jw W ntvyt rqjz?

A letter to Vienna

Lies.  They are all lies.
I have completed my findings and come to the following conclusions:

Firstly,

 The Malkavian Clan is indeed infected by a strange Cainite sanguine taint.  The supernatural corruption is of such form that the poor stricken madmen seemingly share their strange visions and dark dreams.  This mystical plague however is not without its vulnerabilities.  From my studies, a direct infusion of Ventrue vitae upon a Malkavian for a period of no less than one week can cleanse the subject of all permeating maladies.  In return, however, the Cainite begins to manifest a capacity for the Discipline we refer to as Domination.

Secondly,

There remains no actual basis or fact of the supposed presence and subsequent destruction of the Antediluvians of both Clan Lasombra and Clan Tzimisce.   While both clans have proclaimed themselves free from the bonds of their Clan Founders, my investigations have not uncovered any actual evidence that such ancient brethren, who were certain to have been given the dark gift hundreds upon hundreds of years past, were still walking amongst us during the recent years.  There is no evidence that beings of such immense power and generation were actually active nor destroyed in any manner similar or relative to our rise to power.  Only the rise of Clan Giovanni, and its usurpation of Clan Cappadocian of its place among the many has evidential fact (and in that case, it is to my understanding the master Ashur's destruction was not without great effort and the very actions of Augustus Giovanni, the eldest among the Giovanni bloodline.  As thus, only we of the Tremere and the Giovanni have true encounters with these great beings.  And in both cases, the destruction of such powers was the final confirmed outcome.

So ends my report.

Lord Casmir

A Taste of Blood, Part 1

Hunting the Giovanni has never been difficult.

They concern themselves with only two things in life: money and necromantic power. The former is easier to find than the latter. The Giovanni, after all, are a family of decadent monsters. One need only stand in any market place in Italy and follow the flow of goods and money. Chances are, it will lead you to Giovanni or one associated to them.

They call Venice their home but they are present in every city, residing in ports and merchant houses. They do their best to inconspicous but the Giovanni are proud and their name carries a certain amount of prestige among the merchant class and politicians. Anyone who enters into an agreement with the Giovanni of their own free will can expect to come out with a profit. Those who do not can expect to be either floating dead in the nearest river...or worse, fettered to an object to exist as their servant for the rest of eternity.

The Giovanni trust no one but family. They may hire people of different races and nationality as servants and workers but they will always put one of their own in charge to handle their night to night affairs. They are either members of the clan or those of their mortal family who have been ghouled into servitude. This is both their strength and their weakness. One I am not hesitant to exploit.

Iakov's merchant connections helped me enter the city and deliver me straight into the Giovanni storehouses. It was dangerous but the right amount of coin allowed me to pass without so much as a glance from the dockmaster. After all, what was another cassa da imballaggio of smuggled goods in a city full of smuggled goods? It would have been suspicious if we hadn't paid him off.

I emerged from the container of spices a few candlemarks after sunset. No longer needing to breath helped. I could still hear some of the facchino grunting as they carried the other spedizione into the warehouse but they were some distance away.

The storehouse was large and wide. Goods from all over Italy were here, packed in crates, jars and other types of containers. One could get lost if they were not careful. But experience has told me that the best way to navigate a maze was from the rafters. So I climbed the crates and the wall until I reached the ceiling. There, I allowed the shadows to envelop me and the silence surround me.

Iakov was right; the Giovanni were planning something. Not too far ahead, the facchino were moving crates from the warehouse to a wagon while two men watched as their servants worked. One porter slipped and the crate crashed, spilling the contents inside. From here I could see the glint of blades from swords. One of the two men began shouting explitives at the porter who did his best to put the swords back in th box. That one was definitely Giovanni. He was dressed in expensive clothes and shouted in Italian for the men to hurry. But it was the stylized "G" on his chain of gold around his neck that gave him away.

His companion, on the other hand, looked French. His robes were simple and black yet I could see they were trimmed in gold. The lantern near them swung slightly, the light revealing markings sewn into the material. Intersting. Though I have not seen many in my time, those markings looked like runes. A Tremere? What would a Warlock be doing allied to a Necromancer?

On second thought, it's surprising that the Giovanni and the Tremere aren't better bedfellows. Both explore forbidden mysteries and delve into the arcane. Both acquired the status they have by taking it from the Antedeluvian founder. They are also tight-knit and insular. They would never approach you unless you had something they wanted. The question is, what?

On Matters Of Monsters and Men

My Brother,

You have failed to maintain your loyalties.

Have you forgotten everything that our father had taught us?

Politics, religion, such things are all irrelevant

when compared to the bonds of  blood.

You are important to me, and I still pray that you

shall come to understand why I have allowed them

to do this to me.

I know that you, like me, still believe that our father is alive.  

I remember the rumors we heard.  1444.  The talk of the monsters

that stalk the night.   And that those who were chosen

by the familia Giovanni

would return, if they ever did, changed.

Our father was changed.  

You could sense it, Luc.

I could see it.

Our mother's blood has gifted us in ways

the things of the night did not understand.

The Giovanni have come for me

and I knew unlike me, 

you would find a way to hide and run.  

But I have allowed them to change me

for in doing so, we have a better understanding

of these monsters

and how to defeat them.

Someone stalks me, Luc.

I can feel his eyes follow me.

My servants whisper to me of the times when silence is thicker than sin.

Perhaps it is one of the Nosferatu,

or perhaps an Assamite who now hungers for my blood.

I shall write you soon again, Luc.

I shall share with you this... tome that I have found.

I am certain you will find it interesting to say the least.

Until then,

may the Maiden watch over you.

Your sister,

Anette