Lasombra

Lasombra

**of Note**

Respect is the key word in the relationship between the Gangrel and the Lasombra. The Gangrel respect the Lasombra for their capable leadership and their appearance of honesty. The Lasombra respect the Gangrel’s strength of character and ferocity. The Gangrel don’t trust the Lasombra, of course, and the Lasombra still attempt to make the Gangrel into political pawns. But at least the Gangrel know that the Keepers will think long and hard before screwing them over.

Malkavian The Gangrel fear the Malkavians — any rational, survival-oriented Kindred does. The Malkavians are insightful and unpredictable — oh, and they’re also insane. Gangrel take great pains to weed instability out of their broods, at least in the young; the Beast inevitably claims the minds of the old, who must be strong to start to withstand its ravages. The Malkavians, for their part, seem to sense the Gangrel’s uneasiness. Like a cat that knows who it can discomfit most, they seem to take some strange joy in keeping the Gangrel company.

Nosferatu Kindred of these two clans have established an understanding between them, a very sad and resigned sort of arrangement. Neither clan can truly understand what the other experiences: for the Gangrel, the slow dissolution of personality; for the Nosferatu, the sudden obliteration of self-image. But it is empathy, not sympathy, that defines this relationship, and that’s something rare for both groups.

Gangrel and Nosferatu do not screw each other over lightly.

Most will not do it at all, if it can be avoided.

Ravnos The Gangrel and the Ravnos share a turbulent relationship that is centuries old, if not more so. Every Gangrel does not attack every Ravnos on sight, or vice versa; nothing keeps individuals of both clans from being acquaintances, members of a coterie, or even just mutually civil. What is certainly true is that most Gangrel who have spent time with educated sires have heard stories, whether about the mythical rivalry between the Antediluvians, the bad blood stirred up over the Gypsies in 15th-century Europe, or a more personal tale of deceit and thievery. The Ravnos must tell such stories to their childer as well, as even initial contacts between new members of both clans seem predisposed to go poorly.

Chapter Two: Inside the Gangrel Rebellious types will always embrace “the enemy” just because someone told them not to. Among the anarchs, Gangrel often feign a devil-may-care attitude toward the Ravnos, while keeping a close eye on their gear and bolt-holes. Unlife as an anarch is tough enough without worrying whether your sire was actually right about those bastards. Sabbat vampires seem to take perverse pleasure in creating Ravnos/Gangrel alliances, but these undertakings usually turn out like so many other Sabbat affairs — short-lived and bloody.

At the extreme, some ill-fated pairings insist that the continuing feud between the Gangrel and Ravnos is the will of the Antediluvians acted out through the centuries. Like Shakespearean heroes, they rebel against their families’ wishes — but tragedy is not much fun for Romeo and Juliet.

Toreador It would be difficult to think of two vampire clans with less in common than the Toreador and the Gangrel.

The Toreador consider the Gangrel to be crude, uncouth, dirty, pungent and lacking culture. The Gangrel, in return, consider the Toreador to be stuck up, elitist, domesticated and prone to navel contemplation. Both sides are usually right; with these differences out in the open and acknowledged, very little open conflict ever occurs between the Toreador and the Gangrel. They simply move in different circles, and are content that way. Rare instances of intense inter-clan cooperation usually center on particularly pleasant pieces of land.

These partnerships are fleeting, as the Toreador usually loses interest in ecological matters once the patch of ground has been preserved as money in the bank or assets on the social registry.

Tremere Old, bad rivalry festers between the Tremere and the Gangrel. The clans have been at each other’s pale throats since the Dark Ages, when the Warlocks encroached into the lands of Eastern Europe. Gangrel go missing all the time — and some of them, it is rumored, still wind up in Tremere laboratories. Resentment simmered under the Camarilla “truce”, and now that it no longer applies, many Gangrel are itching to rake their claws through their ancient foes. The Tremere, for their part, would like to see the Gangrel put down for good — perhaps to punish the affront to the Camarilla, and most certainly to put a dangerous enemy out of the way.

Tzimisce Outsiders occasionally express surprise that the Gangrel and the Tzimisce do not get along famously, since they share such a talent for shapechanging. Gangrel prefer to use words like “warp” and “mutate” to refer to the Tzimisce’s hellish art, while the Fiends simply cannot understand the Gangrel infatuation with animals, of all things, when the ability to be true monsters must surely be within their grasp. Philosophical debates aside, the Gangrel and Tzimisce of a certain age share a vague resentment born of the conflict with the hated Tremere. Sires and their childer who remember those times in memory or in story might at least act politely — at first.

Ventrue The Ventrue saw the Gangrel as useful. Sold on the metaphor, they thought of the Gangrel as hunting dogs, bloodhounds, even the occasional retriever. Now the hound has turned to bite the hand that ordered it around. The Gangrel attitude toward the Ventrue is unchanged — the uptight, self-important bastards couldn’t understand that, all along, the Gangrel were doing what they wanted to do, and not simply what they were ordered to do.

The Gypsies The Rroma, or Gypsies, share much in common with the Gangrel; one of these traits to never forget a debt owed or a favor performed. When the Rroma entered Europe en masse in the 15th century, their bands sought out letters of safe passage from local religious and secular authorities. Without such letters, the roving bands were driven out or even attacked. European Gangrel, whether implored by their eastern clanmates or out of a desire to bring Rroma companies into their debt, traded in favors and took on political boons to secure these letters of passage from lords and ladies under the influence of other clans. Even tonight, a Gangrel might introduce himself to a Gypsy band by stating that his grandsire obtained a letter of safe passage from the Abbot of Shropshire for Duke Michael and his band. There’s no guarantee that this will earn the Gangrel a favor or a safe resting place for the day, but it’s a better introduction than most. Of course, the Rroma take favors owed to them just as seriously.

The Lupines: or, How to Keep Werewolves from Killing You An Aside by Early Knox, Gangrel of the 10th Generation This is a lot easier than you might think. The first step is simple: Avoid the Lupines whenever possible. They are not your friends. They don’t care if you’re on the outs with Kindred society. They don’t care if you have a Sierra Club membership. They don’t care if you drive spikes into redwoods to save them from chainsaws. As far as I can tell, they have religious issues with us. Consider the werewolves to resemble an angry, fanged fanatical group and you’ve got the right idea. While you might be able to befriend one who’s on the outs, or sell favors to a fleabag who needs help in a hurry, you are not part of the tribe, Clanbook: Gangrel and you never will be. I don’t know all the details, because I follow step number one as closely as I can.

The Lupines have a fair number of holy sites, usually out in the wilderness. Stay far, far away from these places. Even if you have a Lupine contact who invites you out to one. Either your contact is an idiot, or it’s a trap.

Do not pretend to be a werewolf to fit in better with the other werewolves. They’ll know. I don’t know how, precisely, but for starters they’ve got incredible senses; they can tell that you’re a corpse because you’re something called a worm. And they have their own language, which they don’t teach to outsiders. And their own mythology.

If they start quizzing you about “the great wooden monkey spirit Shimmy-ho-ho”, you’re going to sound like a goddamned idiot no matter how you respond.

If you can’t avoid a group of werewolves, keep your contact to a minimum. You might be able to sell them some information, but they’re unstable; they can’t be trusted not to try to kill you after you tell them what you know. If you must engage in conversation, keep it light and agreeable. Don’t talk about the hippies you just drank dry, and don’t debate points of ecological warfare with them. In a perfect world, after a few light conversations you might be able to negotiate a simple “leave each other alone” relationship, but it’s likely to require some unpleasant concessions on your part and none on theirs.

They’re not much for negotiating, you see, and consider us to be one down on them just by existing.

If they’re pissy and you’re on their turf, leave. They can’t fly, and many of us can, so if they start to pursue you, turn into a bat and grab some sky. I can hear some of you — especially those wearing horny Viking hats — shouting about honor and territory and valor. You guys do what you want. I’ll light a candle for you in Van Halla or whatever.

Lupines are a fucking nightmare in a fight. I’ve only seen them in action on videotape — footage stolen from Chicago — and it did frighten me. Their “warform” is an eightor nine-foot-high wolfman like out of The Howling, only a lot more muscular. They’re strong and very fast. They seem to be able to turn invisible at a moment’s notice. They use weapons as well as we do — the tape I saw opened with a barrage of gunfire followed by a frontal assault — and they seem to have Disciplines like we do as well. I’ve heard that a pack of werewolves could take down a Methuselah. Certainly a pack did rip apart Lodin, an elder and no slouch, in Chicago back in ’92.

If you fight one, you might be able to beat him, if you get the drop on him and have a gun. If you can get your hands on silver bullets — don’t laugh — you’ll be about even. If no silver bullets, try silver anything. Forks, knives, sharpened spoons, baseball bats or crucifixes. Anything.

They really hate the stuff, and it seems to burn them.

A lot of other Kindred think that us Gangrel have a special relationship with the Lupines. Most of us do not, but the Ventrue and Tremere don’t know that. You can use this to your advantage in a couple of ways. First off, if you have a few travel routes on which you know you don’t get much werewolf hassle, you can make a profit in money or favors by selling that information off. This applies just as well if you know a couple of routes that are exceptionally dangerous; warnings to your fellow Cainites can score points with people who are good to know. Of course, if you’re leaving town or otherwise have your ass covered, and you want to take a shot at offing an enemy, you can always sell him a safe path through what you know to be Lupine Highway One. Just make sure he doesn’t survive, and that no one knows it was you that told him to go through there (“Yeah, I just heard about John. Terrible thing, too — you know, I warned him that the werewolves watch US 19, but he wouldn’t listen….”).

A final disclaimer: What I said above is all true, but it’s not the whole story. Lupines don’t think with a single unified mind. It is possible, albeit unlikely, that two individuals could overcome racial difficulties and become friends. I’m never going to try such a thing, but you may find yourself in a bind sometime. Good luck, you betcha.

Disciplines Animalism The Animalism Discipline is, naturally, one of the Gangrel’s strongest links to the Beast Within. At the earliest levels of ability, the Gangrel interact with literal representations of the Beast — animals and insects.

Advancing in power, the vampire affects the abstract Beast (although any Gangrel who heard you refer to the Beast Within as “abstract” might well tie your esophagus in knots as an object lesson), the primal nature common to animals, humans and vampires.

The most practical use of Animalism is feeding. The thrill of the hunt may be addictive and the blood of humans more tasty, but the ability to call four-legged supper to you using Beckoning is invaluable to a hurt or otherwise indisposed vampire. Animalism grants both the ability to attract animal companions and ghouls and to call those same animals for sustenance. This concept may cause some cognitive dissonance to coddled humans who buy nicely wrapped packages of meat in a well-lit supermarket, but to farmers, hunters and vampires the world over it’s completely natural. Animals can be warm and snuggly, but when the food runs out it’s you or them. The red hunger eventually breaks even the most fastidious human habits. These same basic abilities can be used offensively, as well. Imagine, if you will, the pest control problem suffered by the Eastern European Tremere, having earned the ire of the Gangrel, Nosferatu and Tzimisce — all users of Animalism.

Chapter Two: Inside the Gangrel The Gangrel are very fond of Subsume the Spirit, and sometimes even call upon it as entertainment, for the simple joy of seeing, smelling and tasting with an animal’s senses. The delight and terror of safely seeing the sunrise again can be freeing — or it can hurl even the most practical Gangrel into the throes of depression. The Gangrel usually don’t mind the side effects of frequent use of this power — the tendency to act like an animal. They make allowances for such behavior among themselves, as many of their number have similar derangements, and they learn to modify their conduct for outsiders — by possessing appropriate animals, if necessary. A Gangrel about to do a bit of investigation, for example, might possess a magpie to acquire its curious habits, while another Gangrel going to visit the prince might possess a wolf to ensure that his animal quirks include proper deference to authority.

Quell the Herd (Animalism Level Six) This power functions along the same lines as Quell the Beast — the Gangrel asserts her will over mortal animals (or humans), subduing their Beasts with the terrifying power of her own. Passionate, powerful emotions, or even simple attempts to assert individuality or will are squelched, rendering those affected apathetic and lethargic for the duration. Multiple targets may be affected; the only requirement is that the individuals must be able to see or hear the Gangrel. It may be necessary in some extreme situations to get the targets’ attention, but that is not likely to be difficult for a monster of this power.

If the crowd, herd or pack is too large for the vampire to subdue them all, the individuals with the lowest Willpower scores are necessarily affected first. Failure on any roll in the sequence means that the vampire must re-accumulate successes, but those individuals already subdued remain so. A botch on any roll in the sequence means that the previously subdued creatures seethe violently into frenzy — they immediately attack the Gangrel who tried to knuckle them under, or anything that stands in the way.

When a mortal’s beast is cowed, he can no longer use or regain Willpower. He ceases all mental and physical struggles, not even defending himself if assaulted (the Storyteller may allow a Willpower roll if the mortal’s life is threatened). To recover from this power, the animal or human rolls Willpower (difficulty 6) once per day until he accumulates enough successes to equal the Storytellers may choose to allow the following modifications to Animalism as written in Vampire: The Masquerade. Or, they may not — players are hereby advised to ask nicely if they see an effect they like. Note that all of these powers build upon the extant levels of Animalism — Storytellers who do not wish those Kindred wielding the Discipline to have more potency should disallow these options.

The Upright Animal Some Gangrel antitribu and independents following Paths of Enlightenment have claimed the ability to use Animalism on humans. For example, some Gangrel insist that they have called the homeless to a secluded haven, or spoken intelligibly to a human while wearing an animal form. Kindred have long expressed their contempt for the kine (literally, cattle), so this success may not be surprising. Storytellers will want to think carefully about allowing this option to be used in their chronicles; it helps to starkly illumine the vampire’s place in the grand scheme, but it is also a capability that may be abused. Also, referring to the less fortunate as animals isn’t particularly enlightened, though it may serve the story. If this option is allowed, the difficulty of such tasks should increase sharply.

Quell the Beast (Animalism Level Three) The Beast Within of supernatural creatures is far more resilient and stubborn than the Beast of a normal mortal. Vampires, Lupines, fae, the strange undead of the East and other unusual creatures will never be cowed by the use of this power, but the violent extremes of their behavior may be limited. Storytellers may allow Gangrel using this ability to attempt to pull any supernatural entity out of a frenzylike state using the same system as to subdue a mortal.

Subsume the Spirit (Animalism Level Four) Multiple successes with this power allow the use of various mental and spiritual Disciplines while in the host animal’s body. At the Storyteller’s discretion, the player may instead use these successes to directly reduce the number of Willpower points that must be spent to completely overcome the power’s aftereffects. Particularly generous Storytellers may allow the player to allocate the extra successes on the fly, and to use the successes that remain when the power is terminated toward reducing the Willpower expenditure.

Drawing Out the Beast (Animalism Level Five) The Gangrel generally understand the Beast Within. At the Storyteller’s discretion, losing the Beast when the subject of this power leaves the Gangrel’s line of sight or hearing is only a temporary inconvenience, as there is probably no place the Beast would rather be. This may not always hold true — other Gangrel, members of clans with Animalism or (gulp) Lupines may provide comfortable homes for the Beast. A wise Gangrel does not use this power on anyone she suspects might be as feral as she.

Stampede (Animalism Level Seven) A deep, innate knowledge of animal instinct allows the Gangrel to trigger a very specific fear in his victims — a unthinking panic that pushes hundreds of creatures into headlong flight. This ability only works on large groups of people; too few, and the aggregate fear will not be enough to override sensible plans of action. Also, the crowd or herd must be already agitated by some mundane occurrence, such as the smell of a large predator, Clanbook: Gangrel a lost football game by the home team or a shortage of this year’s fad toy during prime shopping season. (The Gangrel may cause the “mundane” situation — by being the large predator, influencing the outcome of the soccer match, or waylaying the toys — but this is not necessary or even wise.) Once this power takes hold, its victims will flee until they escape the vampire’s influence or until they are rendered unable to run.

System: This power must be activated within sight of a crowd of roughly 50 agitated mortals (the Storyteller may allow this power to be used on smaller groups of really pissed-off mortals). The player rolls Stamina + Animal Ken (difficulty 7). The resulting waves of terror roll 50 yards in all directions from the Gangrel for each success achieved. Any unsettled mortal within this radius will immediately flee toward the nearest escape or exit unless the Gangrel chooses to direct the Stampede by force of will. The vampire may set a direction or path for the fleeing multitudes, but may not change or alter it once the flight has begun. Members of the Stampede will ignore many potential sources of danger, such as running into the road or through a firing range, but will not take obviously suicidal actions like leaping off tall cliffs or skyscrapers. In some cases, however, the crazed mob will not see potential danger in time — or be forced into it anyway by the pressure of the crowd behind them.

Mortals who were not initially affected may be caught up physically or emotionally in the tide, as the Gangrel’s projected Beast wreaks havoc for a scene unless he chooses to end the madness earlier. Upon leaving the affected area, mortals may recover their senses and stop their mad rush.

If the area is bottlenecked, however, such as a long hallway or valley, the mortals may opt to continue fleeing rather than be trampled. It is worth noting that this power can go awry, even without a rolled botch — the power of hundreds of Beasts, even those of mortals, can be too much for the vampire to control. Animals pushed too hard may frenzy, and people have a disturbing tendency to riot.

MET System: Make a Static Social Challenge against a number of Traits equal to the highest Willpower of anyone in the target crowd. The Stampede affects everyone within 50 yards of you; each additional Social Trait you spend extends the range another 50 yards. Individuals whose Willpower is equal to or less than half your Social Trait total succumb automatically. Individuals whose Willpower is at least half your Social Traits may spend a point of Willpower to make a Static Social Challenge against your Social Trait total; if they succeed, they resist the urge to Stampede. Characters whose Willpower equals or exceeds your Social Trait total may make the same test without spending a point of Willpower.

Crimson Fury (Animalism Level Eight) This power is the subject of much rumor and conjecture, as it has very little visible effect. Upon reaching this level of mastery, the Gangrel may choose to allow his Beast to roam freely through his veins. His blood causes frenzy in mortals and vampires who taste it. Should a diablerist successfully consume the Gangrel’s soul, she may well meet a grisly end as the Gangrel’s Beast eats her away from the inside.

System: This power is activated once, when the Gangrel learns it. It cannot be turned off. The smallest taste of the vampire’s vitae causes agitation in the taster, who must make a Self-Control roll (difficulty 7) or frenzy immediately. This applies to newly created childer, ghouls, attackers who bite and any vampires who would drink from the Gangrel. This is the equivalent of a warning shot for would-be diablerists. Should the attacker resist the urge to frenzy, she may continue to drink as normal, but the supernatural agitation she experiences should be a clear sign that something is unusual about this vitae.

Chapter Two: Inside the Gangrel Should the diablerist be successful, she immediately suffers a +2 difficulty on all frenzy rolls for a duration determined by the Storyteller. She must also make an opposed Willpower roll against her victim’s Beast (which has the same Willpower rating that the now-deceased vampire had). The loser of this contest forfeits one permanent Willpower point. This contest takes place every month for the first year past the diablerie and once a year thereafter.

As the diablerist loses Willpower, she becomes more feral and impulsive (this should be roleplayed, and the Storyteller should feel free to require frequent Self-Control rolls from the diablerist’s player). If the diablerist loses her last Willpower point, she becomes a crazed, bestial monster (and a Storyteller character). If the invading Beast loses its last Willpower point, it becomes quiescent, ceding victory to the diablerist. The evidence of diablerie in the perpetrator’s aura persists until the Beast is subdued.

Humanity or Path rating loss may result from the actions the “possessed” diablerist takes, but they are not lost as a direct result of this power.

Gangrel legends suggest that some incredibly powerful “victims” of diablerie have eaten their way through their attackers, consuming the diablerist’s soul in turn, and then taken over the new body. This is not the normal result of this power, but the rumors do circulate.… MET System: Anyone feeding on you must make a Self-Control Test against four Traits to avoid entering frenzy. Anyone attempting to diablerize you must spend one Willpower point each turn for the duration of the attempt. If someone does successfully diablerize you, the diablerist suffers a permanent one-Trait penalty on all future frenzy checks. (A vampire who reaches Self-Control 1 falls into immediate Wassail then, instead of doing so upon reaching Self-Control 0.) The diablerist must also make a series of Willpower Tests against her own Beast, which gains (for this purpose) the Willpower total of the vampire who used Crimson Frenzy. The loser of each challenge loses a point of permanent Willpower, until the diablerist or her Beast loses control altogether. The diablerist must make one of these Willpower Tests each week for the first year after diablerie, once per month during the second year, and once per year thereafter.

The vampire inters herself in the ground of her chosen domain, spreading her physical and spiritual self through the area. Unlike a vampire using Earth Meld, the Gangrel cannot be simply dug out of the ground. The animals and even insects within the area serve as the Gangrel’s eyes and ears, providing her with an intimate knowledge of the nighttime goings-on of her domain.

Clanbook: Gangrel System: This power costs six blood points to activate and it lasts as long as the Gangrel wishes to remain beneath her domain. The area itself should be relatively well-defined geographically, although it can be quite large: a mountain or valley, an isolated wood, a plateau. The vampire sees and hears everything within the enclosed area through the animals and insects that inhabit it. Additionally, the Gangrel may use mental Disciplines that do not require physical or eye contact to initiate. While the power is active, it is impossible to attack the Gangrel directly. Significant damage to her domain, however — fires, strip mining, explosives, chemical contaminants — will also damage the vampire, and are likely to drive her from the ground.

The area under the Gangrel’s influence reflects the vampire’s nature. Even the most cheerful wood during daylight becomes a place of terror for mere mortals when the sun sets.

Fortitude Fortitude needs little discussion, but that is not to say that the Gangrel take their preternatural hardiness for granted. Any vampire who has ever escaped a forest fire, caught an unexpected glimpse of the desert sun over the rise of a dune or narrowly avoided destruction at the claws of a Lupine knows how vital this simple Discipline is. To add a little spice to the issue, note that Fortitude’s protection against fire and the sun counters the apocryphal curse of the angels. Some might suggest that the use of Fortitude in this manner is sacrilegious or blasphemous, but the Gangrel aren’t the type to go belly-up in the sunlight just to appease some legendary holy guy with a sword.

Gangrel elders have developed some unusual extensions of the basic Fortitude ability to protect and fortify. These powers protect the senses, the mind and the spirit instead of the physical body.

System: Spending two blood points activates this power for a scene. Mundane sources of overwhelming sensory input, such as searchlights, muzzle flash or pepper spray have no effect, even if sensory-enhancing Chapter Two: Inside the Gangrel powers like Heightened Senses are in use. The effects of supernatural sensory attacks or unusual circumstances (like being at ground zero for a massive explosion) may be soaked with the vampire’s Fortitude dice, with each success reducing the effect or duration of the sensory damage, or negating it all together. In addition, the Gangrel’s wound penalties are reduced by two; he feels no pain whatsoever until he reaches the Crippled level, when he runs into only a three-dice penalty. At the end of the scene, wound penalties for all accumulated damage are applied as normal.

The phosphorescent glow streaming from the vampire’s orifices and wounds is nearly impossible to hide, and inflicts a two-dice penalty on social interactions with mortals (other than intimidation).

MET System: Spend two Blood Traits. You become immune for one hour to normally overwhelming sensory input — searchlights, gunfire, pepper spray and the like — even if you’re using Heightened Senses and other powers that increase you vulnerability to sensory overload.

You take two fewer Traits’ penalties from wounds than usual while Sensory Shield remains in effect; any damage you suffer during the hour takes full effect when Sensory Shield wears off. You may make a Static Test of your levels of Fortitude against the Trait penalty imposed by particularly severe environmental problems, like being at ground zero of a massive explosion. If you succeed, you can reduce the penalty by one Trait, plus one per Physical Trait you spend.

Your wounds and orifices glow while Sensory Shield remains in effect; you suffer a two-Trait penalty in all Social Challenges against mortals during this time.

Resilient Mind (Fortitude Level Seven) At this level of accomplishment, the Gangrel extends her preternatural resistance to the very depths of her personality. Upon acquiring this power, the vampire may suddenly shed centuries of paranoia, tics, quirks and other perturbations that have accumulated in the cobwebby recesses of her brain. Additionally, it becomes more difficult to use mental Disciplines against the vampire. Unfortunately, this mental stability comes at a cost to the Gangrel; upon learning this power; the vampire must acquire physical animal flaws exclusively.

The vampire permanently gains three extra dice to resist the effects of any mind-altering Discipline or magic. This bonus does not apply to Presence or other Disciplines that affect the emotions.