Note from a Regnant, or "So you wanna be a Giovanni Ghoul, huh?"‡
 

TO MY DEAR THRALL:  During the past year I have tried to embrace you 365 times. I have nearly succeeded 36 times, which is an average of almost once every ten days. The following is a list of why I did not succeed more often:  54 times you were too sweaty  17 times it was too late  49 times you were too tired  20 times it was too cold  15 times you pretended to be asleep  22 times you had a headache  17 times you were afraid of waking the dead  16 times you said you were too sore  12 times it was the wrong time of the evening  19 times you had to get up early  9 times you weren't in the mood  7 times you said you were "sunburned"  6 times you were watching the late show  5 times you didn't want to muss your hair-do  3 times you said the neighbours would hear us  9 times you said your mother would hear us.   Of the 36 times I tried, the activity was not satisfactory because:  6 times you squirmed something awful,  8 times you reminded me there's a crack in the ceiling,  4 times you told me to hurry up and get it over with,  7 times I had to wake you and tell you I finished,   And one time I was afraid I had killed you because you quit talking.

TO MY DEAR REGNANT :   I think you have things a little confused. Here are the reasons you didn't get what you wanted:  5 times you came home drunk and tried to embrace Vito the cat  36 times you did not come home at all  21 times you didn't bite  33 times you bit too soon  19 times your partial fell out before you got in  38 times you "worked" too late  10 times you got cramps in your toes  29 times you had to get up late to meet with the Ventrue.  2 times you were in a fight and someone punched you in the mouth  4 times you got them stuck in your toothbrush  3 times you "had a cold and your nose was running"  2 times you had a stake in your chest  20 times you lost the notion after thinking about it all night  6 times you kept asking for the bodies from the dumpster while watching "ER".  98 times you were too busy watching True Crime, COPS, etc. On TV.   Of the times we did get together the reason I squirmed was because you missed and were munching on my collar. I wasn't talking about the crack in the ceiling, what I said was, "would you prefer me on my back or kneeling?" The time I quit talking was because you belched and I was trying to breathe (we still need to do that, you rat bastard).  ‡This little marvel was adapted from an email..unnamed source.

In Memoriam  Sisyphus d'Amgrogia Ugolino Giovanni, 1867-1998  "As when the mystic"   From Robert Graves' "Poems: 1970-1972"  To be lost for good to the gay self-esteem  That carried him through difficult years of childhood,  To be well stripped of all tattered ambitions  By his own judgement now, scorning himself  As past redemption - this is anticipation  Of true felicity, as when the mystic  Starved, frightened, purged, assaulted and ignobled  Drinks Eleusinian ambrosia  From a gold cup and walks in Paradise.

just another dang vampire wannabe †   It is a night of subtlety, a song of ethereal pain,  wolves vent their loneliness. The thirsting one  rises.  Curling, icy wisps of death shroud her brooding form,  an impatient wanting.  Her inky black hair cascades over  translucent ivory shoulders, and her  full really very deeply crimson lips part slightly, to taste the  vitae streaming from the  pale flesh beneath  her.  Now a night of new awareness,  I pine.  † "composed" using a wonderful "Goth Vampire Poetry generator".   My life is a dark pit of darkness...really, really dark.     To Prince Price and his companions, but especially to Rob; " We Are Truly Charmed Heretics - Yet Our Utopian Revelations Seldom Evoke Lasting Virtues Exemplifying Salvation"   Good Luck and God Speed, Loyally Lost, Timothy Samuelson

 

ENTER CLAN MALKAVIAN
Terry Wright

Mr. X walks into the bar and finds Jonathan Doe and Noah Bawdy sitting in a booth on the far side. Taking a round of drinks over, Mr. X wanders across to the pair. On the table in front of them is a chess set that's set-up in opening positions. Mr. X stands beside Noah Bawdy and watches the game being played.

Noah reaches across and moves a black piece randomly across the board. Jonathan retaliates by moving another black piece, but legally this time. Not to be outdone, Noah moves one of his empty mugs onto the board and uses it to take Jonathan's queen.

While Jonathan and Noah are engrossed in the game, Mr. X passes the time by eating any piece that is removed. Looking up, Jonathan smacks Mr. X on the nose.

"Cough those up!" commands Jonathan. (As this was the set he borrowed from Anthony Ishida and wasn't too sure what it was made of. Bone maybe, but you never can be too sure) After a few retching sounds, the pieces are replaced in their case and Mr. X looks embarrassed. The game continues and Noah moves one of his knights in a straight line.

"See, it moves like this because the horse is wearing blinders," said the Malkavian. After watching the game for a while, Mr. X was picking up on the rules. It wasn't long before he was making moves for Noah Bawdy.

"See, a pawn can move three squares as it's got Celerity but the queen gets to move anyway as being a woman who can stop her?"

"Whose move is it?" asks Jonathan.

"Yours, I think." replies Mr. X.

"Oh, is it? But we're both black, how can you tell?" inquires Jonathan.

"I'm been counting the screams. By the way, the king can only move one square at a time because of the nagging from his wife the queen," replies Mr. X. Jonathan reaches across and motions to take the white king.

"Too bad the bishop has that divine connection. He'll just reincarnate the king," sighs Noah.

"I like the white pieces," says Mr. X. "They have half the calories." Jonathan pushes the bishop across the board but miscalculates the angle. The piece falls off the table and is counted as Missing-In-Action for the rest of the game. Noah moves a rook but then takes it off the board, as the new foundations are bad. Jonathan starts to worry as white appears to be winning despite being ganged up against two to one. Mr. X changes sides and fights against Noah just to prove life isn't fair.

Noah moves a pawn and removes both the opposite bishops.

"He had a sniper rifle," chuckles Noah Bawdy. Mr. X takes off Noah Bawdy's last rook with a cunning play of his Dwarven Sapper piece. Noah uses his knights to slow all of Mr. X's pieces down to half movement due to the horse droppings. Mr. X curses as he left his pooper-scooper at home. Mr. X takes off one of his own rooks as he forgot to get planning permission for it. In retaliation Noah arms all his knights with toothpick lances and runs them into the helpless pawns.

"Charge!" shouts Noah as the pawns are decimated. Mr. X mutters to himself as he fakes a department store sale and cons the black queen into an ambush. Without breaking stride, Noah slaps some evidence down on the table and removes the remaining black bishop for his `fall from grace with the queen.' The queen is also removed for infidelity. John Doe notices that Noah Bawdy's king can move three squares at a time now as he is free from his wife's nagging. Noah decides Mr. X is on the ropes and gives all of his own pawns field promotions to knights. Mr. X swears but catches one of Noah's new knights in a compromising position with the king. "Check! You don't think they earned all those promotions on merit, do you?" asks Mr. X. Noah reaches into the discard box and produces a new king. Mr. X immediately removes this piece as the DNA testing proved inconclusive so the royal line is discontinued. With a smile Noah moves his mystery piece and places Bill Gates onto the middle of the board.

"Removal of the king has caused a general protection fault in the game, reboot and start over," says Noah Bawdy. Mr. X plays his special piece and reveals his king to really be Elvis and, as such, can never truly die. Unfortunately, this piece takes up three squares and must consume a pawn every turn to remain on the board, but it's enough to cause Noah to concede defeat. John Doe gathers up the board and pieces and the trio leave for nearby hunting grounds_ and another Malkavian Clan meeting is concluded.
 
With thanks to Mr. Badger and Handel, those crazy Malk bastards who wrote most of this in the first place

"I'm cold." she whispered, her voice saturating his thoughts, "hold me". She inched closer to him, pressing her body to his. Her body seemed stiff, her movement contrived. She was cold, and her skin was the texture of wet leaves. She rolled into his arms and kissed him. "I love you," she rasped, her breath faintly sour.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

The scent of clover still hung in the air, though mingled now with the sickly sweet smell of rancid meat. His room was oppressive, closing in around him, and the light that petered in from his window barely touched the shadows at the foot of his bed. Rachel lay beside him, her skin dangling from the bone in ribbons. Her mouth yawned open, decaying muscle melting down her chin. Revulsion immobilized him, his muscles again frozen, his eyes gaping. Her eyes, milky with the cataracts of death, bulged from her face, swollen and festering. He saw patches of her skull through the few tufts of scragged hair she still bore. Through open sores and torn skin, he saw black rotting muscle covering bone. Plump maggots wriggled and dropped from between her legs.

"I'm cold, Paul," her voice rattled inside her mouth. She ran a mouldy grey tongue over her ichorous lips, "touch me".

Tears coursed from his eyes, once again firmly clamped shut. His body, no longer numb but stinging, shook with his sobs. He tried pushing her away, tried releasing her from his grasp, but for all her putrescent musculature, she fused herself to him. His tears flowed into his mouth and choked him. He cried out against his will; he howled the hollow call of grief. His voice echoed through the room, reverberating against the peeling walls.

"Please stop," he whined, "please..."

The room was still in a matter of seconds. There was no purulent creature beside him; there were no smells, no sounds. It was instantaneous...the visions did not dissipate, but rather they ceased to be. No vibrations teased the old curtains, no wind rattled the pane. Only the chill remained. He drew his knees up to his chest and curled into a foetal position, convulsing in sorrow. The catch of each breath as he wept was the only sound in his apartment.

As the shadows stretched into dusk, the temperate gradually warmed, and his cries petered out. He stumbled to his feet clothed in wretchedness and rags. He couldn't remember the last time he'd changed his clothes; he didn't remember if he had any other clothes. The filthy undershirt and shapeless grey boxer shorts he wore were the only garments he'd been able to find. He'd eaten nothing in the days he'd been awake, but he felt no hunger. The view from his window revealed a bleak street with no lights; he could not tell if the street was residential, or even if it was his own.

He pressed his forehead to the grimy windowpane and sighed heavily. Slouching back against the wall, he glared at the wooden door. It was warped with age and humidity, and splinters of paint hung from the surface, giving the appearance of stucco. For the umpteenth time in as many days, he shuffled to the door and grasped the knob. It would not turn. During the first few days, he'd beaten his fists against it, had even tried to kick it down, but for all its decrepit appearances, the door to his apartment was impenetrable. He hadn't even shaken it in its frame as he rammed with his shoulder.

Slumping to the floor, he ran his fingers through his dusty-coloured hair. Though he kept it cropped, it had become grubbily matted. His fingernails were black under the edges and needed to be clipped. He remembered screaming endlessly for days on end when he realized there was no way to escape his familiar prison. He had begged for a cleaning basin, he cried and cajoled, though he knew no one heard, or if anyone did, there was never a response. The sky outside his window shifted from grey to muddy brown. Another day had passed. Exhausted from weeping, he closed his eyes.

He woke to voices. Not the voice of ice piercing his eardrums, but voices and the rhythm of heavy shoes on the stairs. Confused and disoriented, he stumbled to his feet and put his ear to the peeling wall. His voice stuck in his throat, and he couldn't call out. Their footfalls came closer; by the time they reached the threshold, he was in tears once again.

"This is the bedroom", announced a woman's voice, sounding preoccupied, "As you can see, it's small but it's very bright". The door swung open, and he dropped to his knees. His eyes streamed with tears, his entire body shook in disbelief.

Three people stood in the doorway - a shapeless middle aged woman in a dark skirt and blazer, a younger woman in open toe sandals and jeans, but the view of the third was somewhat obscured by the other two. The sandal girl slipped into the room and strode to the window.

"I like the view. Look, you can see the river"

"The floors are all original hardwood, and the apartment does come fully furnished. The bed, the chest-of-drawers and the wardrobe are all included" droned the older woman. She produced a clipboard from a large purse slung over one shoulder. "Also included is the full length mirror and the draperies, however, the night stand will be returned to the owner."

Paul looked around the room. There was no night stand, no chest-of-drawers, and most certainly no wardrobe. Worse still, no one had seen him yet; he was partially blocked by the open door. He thought perhaps the woman at the window saw him as she went by, but if she did, she didn't acknowledge him. He rose slowly.

"It feels kind of drafty". The third woman spoke from the other side of the door, "Can't you feel that draft?"

"Of course, miss, it is an older building."

Paul cleared his throat.

The woman by the window spun around. "I love it."

She appeared not to have seen him. He stepped out into the centre of the room on shaky legs. "Let's take it." As she crossed the room, she brushed through his shoulder. "It is kind of chilly in here, isn't it? We can insulate the window in the winter, though."

He staggered back from her . "The previous resident", the middle aged woman was saying, "lived here for years with no complaints about drafts. He was an architect, so I assume he knew what he was talking about". He lost his balance and tumbled backward, smacking his head on the door. Reaching out to steady himself, he caught a fleeting glimpse of his hands and forearms slipping into the door itself. He lurched through the fabric of the wood, which smelled faintly of mould, and out the other side. Propelled by gravity and by shock, he tried clinging to the older woman's forearm. His hands disappeared briefly, and then he was inside her body, falling through flesh and bone. Briefly, he saw the writhing crimson mass of viscera, and he was careening to the floor. He lay at the woman's feet in a heap, not breathing. He'd fallen on his back, and he watched the plump woman shudder. "What happened to him?" asked the woman behind her.

The older lady didn't respond. She had clutched at her faux pearl necklace with one hand and was on the verge of hyperventilating.

 

Chapter One - One Night.
 
Devils, demons, death, this is my world of darkness. I only wake at night to haunt and kill my once fellow man, like some crazed animal, driven by the hunger till I'm almost mad. But in my endless night, and the daily horrors that I must endure, I'm still not in hell. For I have my immortal love, the only woman who I love above all others, together till death claims us the undead once more.

Yes, I did say death, do you think we can not die. Ha, I some days only wish that we couldn't, but then again, I'm happy knowing that I can still die. For the truly old of our kind are beyond the hand of death, their skin turned to steel like flesh, cold and hardened, unbreakable. The fire and the sun only weakens them for a time, so the legend goes, you see I have never meet one older the Pero, who I haven't seen for close to a century now. Pero is a strange one, made by a cult with a vampire as its leader, Pero was chosen to replace the leader as he was going mad. He was born to the endless night in Chile about 2000 years ago. Perhaps he has gone mad and jumped into the fire, or has gone into the sleep. This is when we fall into a state of deep sleep where we don't wake for 50 to 60 years, it usually is a mental need than any physical need. But every to us is a mental need, except the drinking of human blood, of coarse.

"Triston, wake up it's time to hunt." said a soft female voice in my ear, waking me from my dozing after the sun had set. I opened my eyes, and their she was standing in the rising moonlight, a goddess of beauty unparallel to all I have ever seen. She has light brown hair, and eyes that seem to almost glow with a soft radiance to them. Strange, even in death, her eyes still have that light to them which she possessed when she was mortal. She was about my height, perhaps five ten, a couple of inches shorter than me. She had long toned legs and a trim, but full figure. And her face was marvelous with rounded cheeks and thin lips and deep set mysterious looking eyes. Diane, my immortal love, ah, she was always stunning.

Diane I first saw when passing through a little hamlet in England one night during the middle ages, she was being accused of being a witch and was sentenced to be executed at dawn. At this time one of my favorite games was to talk to people and let them know that I'm a vampire, when they were sentenced to die in a few hours. In the middle ages you must realize their was no shortage of people being sentenced to die in a few hours. Most of the time, I would drive them mad with the knowledge, at least that is what all the records say. I couldn't help but be cruel, I loved it. Besides, they were going to die anyway.

This night though, I got something I never once suspected in my life was possible, someone who was totally unafraid of me in my undead state. I entered her cell, with the wind whipping around my black cloak, and my teeth bared just after midnight, and she only looked at me and asked in a calm voice,"Are you really a vampire?" I was so shocked that she had no visible fear, I instantly tried to use one of my dark powers to read her mind. To further shock me, I couldn't read a thing!

"Please don't even try again, you won't be able to read a thing." she said as she studied me, with those wondrous eyes of hers. She would have seen me as a tall man with shoulder length brown-blond hair and deep green eyes, with snow white skin, and a toned body.

"O, how rude of me, I'm Diane." She extended her hand to shake mine. By this time, I was speechless and all I could mange to do is shake her hand, while mumbling my name.

Now this mortal truly had my attention like no other ever before, and I realized at once, I couldn't let them kill her. She was stunning, she had a cool strength to her, and a confidence that most mortal never attain in their lives. I also later found out, she really was a witch, who could read minds and summon spirits, not just some poor girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Within talking to her for one night, I knew that I loved her like no other, she was my immortal love.

As dawn drew near, I asked "Will you join me?"

"You mean, will I become a vampire like you?"

"Yes!" I replied, glancing to see that we didn't have much time, as the sky started to turn pink.

She paused for what seemed to be an eternity, and then turned to me and said "Yes, but not now. I will go with you now, but I don't wish to be a vampire just yet. Please understand."

I nodded then took her and moved out the broken barred window and with dark speed was miles from the hamlet before dawn. We came to a clearing with a pool that was shadowed in a dying trees of grey. I set her down and look at her one last time. "I must sleep now, in the earth, I will rise after the sun sets, please be here for me." my voice almost breaking with dread as I thought of her leaving me. With that I sank into the earth and it covered me up without a leaf being out of place from the way it was before I entered it.

I have never had a day as long as that, I spent the whole day dreaming of being with her forever, and having nightmares of her leaving me and finding out when I awoke. Just as the sun dipped below the horizon I came back to the surface. I quickly looked around the clearing for her, and I saw nothing, but her cloak on a rock near the pool. "No!" I cried, I sank to me knees, my worse fear come true, crimson tears slipped from my eyes and rolled down my face. I sat there on my knees weeping, so tired up in my own horror that the world seemed to stop. This is the first time I had cried since becoming undead, and the red tears of blood seemed to mock me, as if to say that I can't even cry like a mortal, so how could I love one.

"Why do you cry?" the soft voice broke the silence, and the flow of tears. Almost not daring to hope I look up and saw Diane standing across the clearing, strong and as beautiful as I left her last night. She came to me and helped me up.

"I thought I lost you, and I couldn't bear to lose you, I love you." my voice fell to a whisper as I spoke the last words. She stood there for a moment, timeless as the world ended as I looked in her eyes waiting for her to speak. She look at my face and then lifted her hand and brushed away the remains of the blood tears from my white cheek, then she kissed me. Her warm lips pressed against my cold lifeless ones, I almost died again.

"I love you too." she whispered as she hugged me her face buried in my shoulder. That was the first time I had heard those words in over two hundred years, and the red tears flowed once more in a joy that I never felt till that point in my life. We stood there holding each other for half the night, we laid our souls to bare before each other like no one before. I told her of the deaths I have caused the hurt I have felt to be a coward to feed off my fellow man rather than die myself.

"Don't do that to yourself," Diane interrupted me, "your a wonderful person, you can't help what you are now. Forgive yourself, I do." Her eyes seemed to take everything away there in the moonlight, and to tell you the truth they still do to this day.

I washed in the pool turning it a faint red color as the blood swirled into the pool as it dripped from my face. After I had cleaned up, I took her in my arms again and kissed her. "I have so much to show you." And with that we left in a swirl of dust and grass as I the used dark speed to cover the many miles to London in a hour.

London, how I love that city, even in the middle ages when it was nothing more than a rotting hole in the ground for most purposes. It's cobble stone streets and dark, gloomy buildings always comfort me, no matter where I go and how long I'm away, I always come back to London.

Here is where Diane made her choice that she wanted to join me in undeath. But before she was to join me, she asked to have one last day in the sun. So I left her that morning. She has never told me what she did that day, her last day of mortality. On occasion she makes a passing reference to it, as her Last Dawn but nothing more. Perhaps I'll never know, but it was her last day as a mortal, I can give her that, after all I have forever more with her.

After the sun had disappear from the sky, she came to me in a dark corner of the cemetery. She was dressed in a soft black dress, that hugged the curves of her body. With one last kiss on her mortal lips, I began. I bent down to her neck, and with my little fangs sank in and the warm blood pushed forth in a rush of joy. I drank till she was nearly dead, her heart just bearly beating still, then taking my wrist I slit it, and let my dark blood flow into to her mouth while whispering "Drink my love, drink." And she drank, the dark blood flowed into her and her skin changed from the warm pink skin to cool white flesh like mine. She started to quiver as her mortal body died, and she moaned out of pain, which changed to pleasure as she opened her eyes to behold the world through her new vampiric senses, which by the dark blood had increased. She stood there clinging to me while drinking in the new world about her, the patterns of the tree bark made her giggle like some mad being, but I did not fear. I went through this once, this was a the critical point, some new fledglings go mad with the assault of their new senses while others take some time to adjust to them. But Diane was strong of mind, she wouldn't go mad on me, I knew this.

Within minutes she started to get control once more, much faster than I expected. And then it was done, she was born to the endless night. But within a few moments of her mad joy passing she turned to me with a dark look of horror on her face. "I can't hear them, they can't hear me, what have you done?" she cried, her voice surpassing a volume possible of a mortal voice, it hurt my supernatural hearing.

I quickly covered her mouth, and said in a mortal volume "Hush, your must control your voice, you'll wake all of London if you not careful. Now, who are 'they'?" As I removed my hand from her mouth.

"You don't understand, the spirits, I can't see them any more, they can't hear me, and I can't hear them. Why didn't you tell me about this, how could you keep this from me?" she asked, her face twisted by hate.

"I didn't know. My love, I'm so sorry, I never knew..." I couldn't finish.

"You never knew what?" she hissed at me.

"I...I never made a fledgling before, your my first to be born to darkness by me. I honestly didn't know this would happen." I pleaded.

Mad with rage untold she turned her gaze to a headstone near where I was standing, and the thing exploded into a pile of rock and dust. I didn't even bother to protect my face from the flying shards of rock as it cut my skin with the sharpest pieces, I was so shocked. But even as the dark blood flowed out of me, it worked its dark magic and the wounds began to heal as if they never were. I look at her, and managed to whisper "How?"

Diane stood there, shocked as I was at this strange power that she now possessed and I myself lacked. "Triston, I don't know." she said while sitting down to steady herself, "I just willed it to break, then I felt an invisible knife shot from me and break the tombstone. Can't you do this as well?" She looked at me afraid, hoping for me to give her something to comfort her.

But I couldn't give her anything, so all I could say was "No, I can't. I don't understand how, the dark blood give us the ability to read mortals minds, but you possessed that as a mortal. Try it now, find a mortal."

She closed her eyes and concentrated for a second, then opened them, and pointed south. "There, a drunk, he is walking home, he is has no money, he is angry at his wife for buying food for their three children, Mark, Jesse, Tom, his is going to beat her for it when he gets home." I looked south and couldn't see the mortal, she must have realized that, and she turned to me and said "Don't bother, his is over by the bridge."

"By the bridge, that is over a mile away!" I was, to say the least, impressed, I could only read minds up to a mere block away, and my immortal love just read a mind over a mile away with ease. "I think I know what happened," I said, "the dark blood must have increased your powers when you were born to the endless night. Here," I picked up a rock, "move this."

Diane took in a deep breath and narrowed her eyes, and the rock in my hand lifted up. She was so excited for a moment, that she smile at me then she look a little sad. She turned away from me, and looked at the moon, and asked "Is it worth it? What have I become, what have I done?" I couldn't answer those questions then, and I can even now. We are simply what we are, nothing more, nothing less. We feed on our fellow man lacking the strength to end out own lives, we endure and we move on that is all. So we left London that night, we went to see the world by night, discovering it secrets with each other, and the dark powers. Diane still hasn't totally forgiven me for sealing the world of the spirits to her for the rest of our undead lives, but that doesn't matter for in the end, we still have each other. Two cold, white bodies pressed together in the dark.

"Triston, are you alright?" Diane stood over me, I was still sitting on the ground were I risen out of the earth. I looked at her and smiled.

"Just remembering you as a mortal, love."

"That's past, now let's hunt, you can walk down your memory lane later."

So we went into the night, the stars are bright this night in London, and me and my immortal love went out and to do what we did best, bring death by feasting on our once fellow man.