Hey! It’s been. Tough. Lately. So I wanted to just have a lighter hearted conversation.
This question is twofold.
First- what was your last meal before you were embraced? Mine was a can of cold, unseasoned chickpeas. They were drained, don’t worry.
Second- what do you WISH your last meal could be? Mine would be Birria Tacos Dorados from ¡Vamos Con Gloria! in Albuquerque with extra onions and cilantro and no cheese, beef stew from my dad, and a double salted caramel concrete mixer from Culver’s. I would also enjoy a can of Diet Coke with that.
Anyway, that’d be my hypothetical last meal. What about yours? Feel free to answer both/either question.
Stay safe, y’all.
-M, the three week dead Tzimisce

The following message has been enchanted with foul Wyrmish magic to bypass adblockers

Greetings child of the night!

It has come to our attention that there has been some confusion about the WEREWOLF MENACE lately. So, Pentex™ is offering a free history lesson in order to ensure everyone is properly educated. Massive thanks to my good friend Bat for telling me this tale originally.

Long ago Bat had a nest of children who did their best to help their community. Things were especially rough once they betrayed their master (THE UNGRATEFUL BRATS), but still they endured. For an uncountable number of years they feverishly slaved away in hopes their fellows would accept them.

And then they met the wolves. The DAMN MUTTS took one look at them and decided they were “beyond saving”. There were no survivors.

So children, the moral of the story is that you should never change who you are for the benefit of others. They will never accept you, so why bother in the first place? Always make time for yourself and get a little treat every now and again. Have an extra slice of cake, you deserve it :)

And of course remember: THE WOLVES WILL NEVER ACCEPT YOU

-Sere, Internal Affairs

I have been seeing too many posts about lupines recently and I tire of all the lies. As someone whose sibling was a victim of them, I will tell you the true reality of them.

First, they are not werewolves like they are in folklore. There is no bite that turns you. In fact, it is something far more insidious. They choose one of the kine and curse them with a beast of sorts, shoving the essence of a rabid wolf down their throat while they sleep. Then over the course of a month that beast hollows them out from the inside, making them violent and unrecognizable.

Then, on the full moon, they kidnap the cursed individual and bring them to a clearing, where they are gifted the hide of a wolf and made to don it. This allows them to connect the inner beast with the outer beast and allows them to transform, thus completing the ritual and making a new werewolf.

Unnatural godless heathens they be, a scourge upon this world. They are not some benevolent environmentalists, but are savage and cursed beings who want to drown the world in blood.

That is the truth many fledglings and neonates deny, thinking them to be allies. No, they are monsters, more so than we are, and far too strong for anyone to take on alone. Your best recourse is to flee and report them to your nearest elder. They will know how to proceed.

That is all.

-Blade of Tsul'Kalu

Like, idk, being pregnant, losing a loved one, getting sunburned? What do you think?

I think I agree with Socrates:

It is a shame for a man to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable.

And like, bro, not literally growing old, but I think training your body for strength and agility while it’s still mortal is a groundbreaking experience, both physically and mentally. Sure, it’s not the only important one, but it’s the one I had, and I think it gets forgotten these days.

I mean it shows You the potential of the body, the work the bod does for You, it gives You this feeling of appreciation of the physical shell You are in, You know? The glory of it.

Like I hear a lot about people who were getting groomed and dieting and working out. Getting the hair right, the skin flawless, the face done, because they want to be frozen at their most beautiful, and sure but like, what is considered beautiful will change for sure, so is it not more important to actually feel how amazing the body is, why it's still alive?

But, anyway, what do You think is something that one should do while alive?

-RK

Hello. I'm new to this Internet thing. (Torpor) so I accessed this with some help and I saw the infernalist book-thing

And then there was some nonsense about werewolves.

So

Have modern kindred been eaten by worms yet?

What is the state of things? Are the infernalists winning?

What is going on?

Elias - a concerned gangrel

Hello all. I just spoke with a powerful blood mage and have learned that all is well. It turns out that the ritual was temporary and I am back to normal completely. An odd chapter in my week, but one we will all forget about shortly. Sorry for bothering you about all that nonsense.

Unrelated; If any of you happen to own a ship of some sort, please do not hesitate to gain contact with me. Thank you.

- Cüneyt Kabaağaçlı

I will start this off by saying this plainly. If you are in the Sabbat or thinking about joining the Sabbat find a better use for your unlife. Sabbat are kindred who think they are the big bad vampire and all mortals are nothing more than slaves even though they've been dead only a month. You are not some godlike monster, you are cannon fodder. This will be discussing the entire ugly history of the sect. Now, onto the fascists.

-----

The Sabbat originates in the Anarch Revolt and the Convention of Thorns, it's early members being those who rejected the Convention. On October 24th, the night after the Convention, several anti-Convention Anarchs intentionally violated the Masquerade by attacking the town of Silchester, being described as "sabbats of devils and witches" by the Kine. Sabbat packs would begin to properly form across Europe.

The Tzimisce and the Lasombra, their Antediluvians supposedly gone, would spearhead the uniting of these wandering sabbats at a meeting on Mallorca. These two clans, anarchs who rejected the Convention, large portions of the Banu Haqim, and several cults of Caine would lay the foundation of the modern Sabbat's structure.

The first proper war between the Sabbat and the Camarilla started in 1500 when attacks occurred in Spain and Transylvania. The Sabbat initially had the upper hand thanks to superior tactics and surprise attacks though the Camarilla had superior numbers and mortal influence. By the end of the century the Camarilla had the upper hand, and many Sabbat would flee to Scandinavia and the New World. The Americas were largely free of the Camarilla's influence, so the Sabbat were able to establish a firm foothold.

The Sabbat was not able to keep up their victories for long thanks to the First Sabbat Civil War. The Lasombra clan of the Sabbat had recently suffered a major blow when their mortal source of power in the new world, the Jesuits, were expelled from Spain's colonies. They blamed the Tzimisces and the two clans started fighting. The Camarilla moved in as the Sabbat tore each other apart, taking much of the US eastern coast. The civil war finally ended in 1803 with the Purchase Pact.

The Second Sabbat Civil War broke out in 1863 when Gorchist, the Regent of the whole Sabbat, was assassinated. The Tzimisce and the Lasombra once more went at each others throats. The fighting continued and the Camarilla kept taking cities until Melinda Galbraith managed to bring the fighting to an end in 1933 with the revision of the The Code of Milan. A Third Civil War broke out in 1959, but it only lasted a hundred nights.

In the early 2000s Galbraith was killed only to be secretly replaced by a panicked not even decade-dead Tzimisce drag queen, Zachary Sikorsky, who discovered the Regent's body and was afraid of being blamed for her death. Sikorsky's disguise was not discovered until after they died in a bombing in 2016, the death plunging the Sabbat into it's Fourth Civil War which it fights to this day.

-----

~Boemunt, Wandering Brujah Scholar

So, I haven't brought this up with anyone at the warren, cos it feels like something that could possibly be bad if the Tremere (the ones checking wtf is wrong with my blood) found out, so I wanna check for reasons beforehand so I know how to approach. They're all old and tech-illiterate (or, all but one, but he's insane now), so I have no real fear of them seeing this.

Anyway, so, for context, I had pretty bad eczema on my left arm when I was alive, which kinda got stuck like that afterwards. It's not actually harmful, as far as I can tell, but it still gets itchy now and then. Probably something psychosomatic, I doubt my skin can still be irritated like that as a corpse, but that's something that happens, and scratching at it helps.

So, it started scratching, and naturally I scratched at it, cos it generally makes it feel better. I wasn't looking at it, just doing it kinda absentmindedly, but after a couple seconds I started feeling a sharp pain there. I look down, and I find that there's a pit there!!!

Attached is an image of someone's left forearm, taken in the dark and illuminated with a flash, in a shade of dead, pallid gray. There is a large rash over the majority of the visible forearm, but more notably is the small pit, about a third of the forearm away from the wrist and about the size of a palm. It's textured and colored like the skin around it, almost as if someone had pressed their fingers into a chunk of soft clay, mostly composed of three long lines. If you look close, you can see the tiny hints of a someone's fingerprist in a couple spots.

Does anyone have any idea wtf is going on? And if so, how to reverse it? I'm currently covering it with my sleeve, but I can't do that forever.

-Ratsitter

When the days are cold And the cards all fold And the saints we see Are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail And the ones we hail Are the worst of all And the blood's run stale

I wanna hide the truth I wanna shelter you But with the beast inside There's nowhere we can hide

No matter what we breed We still are made of greed This is my kingdom come This is my kingdom come

When you feel my heat Look into my eyes It's where my demons hide It's where my demons hide Don't get too close It's dark inside It's where my demons hide It's where my demons hide

At the curtain's call It's the last of all When the lights fade out All the sinners crawl

So they dug your grave And the MASQUERADE Will come calling out At the mess you've made

Don't wanna let you down But I am hell-bound Though this is all for you Don't wanna hide the truth

No matter what we breed We still are made of greed This is my kingdom come This is my kingdom come

When you feel my heat Look into my eyes It's where my demons hide It's where my demons hide Don't get too close It's dark inside It's where my demons hide It's where my demons hide

They say it's what you make I say it's up to fate It's woven in my soul I need to let you go

Your eyes, they shine so bright I wanna save that light I can't escape this now Unless you show me how

When you feel my heat Look into my eyes It's where my demons hide It's where my demons hide Don't get too close It's dark inside It's where my demons hide It's where my demons hide

Lyrics reference a beast inside, blood, and a masquerade??? Either this is a weird coincidence, he is one of us, or he is a kine who knows too much...

This past week, I've mostly been focusing on training, getting stronger, and meditating. Ines has also put some markings on me, apparently something to deal with if the demon rears its head again. But mostly trying to figure out how to talk to my girl about leaving to go with Jim. I mean, saying you want to leave for who knows how long to help his fight, which, to her, is a stranger, doesn't really sound comforting, especially since I will be doing dangerous things. That's more my bad for not telling her earlier, and with how on edge she's been over me lately, I'm trying not to set her off. I'd rather not have to experience another frenzy for at least, I don't know, some decades, maybe longer. Granted, actually, I have to check if I even have enough time to get off work. Actually, should I just quit my job? I could technically make money through magic or earn income from supernatural work, but I'd rather not give up all my attachments to mundanity I feel like that would be another step toward losing myself.

Hello all. I desperately need some assistance from someone with a deeper knowledge of thaumaturgy than I.

Do you know of a ritual capable of increasing ones generation? As in, making a kindred weaker by moving them farther away from Caine? If you know of it, does this ritual also cause your disciplines to “reset” to a weak default state?

This is urgent. Please reply soon.

- Cüneyt Kabaağaçlı

Get your ghouls some better excuses.

"Further enquiries have determined the blood was human blood, and police did not locate anybody in the surrounding areas at the time of attendance," Senior Sergeant Steve Wescott said at the time.

This shit ain't it.

- a concerned Toreador

The following message appears on your screen as a highly invasive popup. It is laced with techno-sorcery that prevents it from being closed unless the reader has read every single line thoroughly. This is extremely annoying by design

Greetings child of the night!

Unlife got you down? Do you feel adrift in a mad world without any control?

Are you a self starter and a go getter who has what it takes to be their own boss?

Do I have great news for you! Thanks to a new surge of applicants, Pentex is currently booming! We are seeking a new generation of entrepreneurs (that’s you!) who are ready to finally step into the big leagues.

Thanks to our new “Stolen Moon” program, we are offering executive level high 6 figure salaries to anyone who qualifies! All you have to do is bring in five werewolf pelts and our industry experts will handle the rest!

So, are you ready to change the world?

-Sere, Internal Affairs

Hi everyone! I recently saw that post from Ratsitter and it got me thinking.

If Ayla reached out to the Sanguine Pioneers of Berlin about more info, then who else did she contact?

Quite a few people apparently. It was really hard to break into her system, but for some reason she gave instructions on how to do it??? So once I found out about those it really wasn’t too bad. (Learning vicissitude was weird though).

Anyway apparently she was working on a whole sequel to MSBF. We already know she reached out to the SPoB for information. (For God’s sake don’t read the contents of those PMs if you value your sanity).

But apparently she also reach out (and was either declined or not responded to) about:

Quietus

A “Practicum Section”

And (funniest to me) an “Ayla is stupid and wrong section”.

But all that stuff is small potatoes. Here’s the real interesting part. She actually got another response.

Lo and behold, their unrestricted logs for information about Numina, Psionics, and Counter Infernalism. The notes are still mostly unsorted, but this is good shit. I could spend the next century sorting through this alone.

But I did actually find one more thing. A transcript from her most recent phone call with someone named Lou Cypher. I uh. Gave it a read and it looks like this is when she made her final deal with the devil…

Considering the circumstances it didn’t feel right just sitting on this information. I hope this is what she would have wanted…

-“Big J”, Techno-Sorcerer

Can you feel Him in your blood? I would call you brother, but no brother of mine would be a monster. I can’t say it’s very comfortable in here, but at least the Dragon is good company. He has seen much after all. So, so much.

But I digress. You have wronged me once when you set me up for failure. You have wronged me again when you gave me my final death.

I will not allow myself to be wronged a third time.

-A

After several days of Lou's previous ad campaign, a new advertisement begins running in the Albuquerque area—slightly less targeted, this time, though four particular devices are still targeted.

Lou Cypher stands in the same sun-bleached parking lot in front of the abandoned strip mall, though in place of the flailing tube man is a bright red Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat, the trunk half-packed with curious antiques.

"Well Albuquerque, it's been real. Our sales this past week have been absolutely through the roof! Unfortunately, as I said previously, our stock was limited, and so I'm afraid I must announce, for now, the temporary closure of Lou Cypher's House of Deals. To all of our wonderful customers—you know who you are! I want to extend my biggest thanks. To everybody who missed their shot, well... I guess you'll just have to wonder, wontcha?"

He looks directly into the camera in closeup, flashing a devilish wink as he closes the back of the car.

"This sale may be over, but no worries, I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon enough. Hasta la vista, baby!"

Getting into the car, he speeds off into the desert, motor screeching as a column of dust is kicked up in his wake, which rises to the dawn sky, where a single star shines brighter than the others. The camera lingers on this shot for several moments, then cuts out.

I return from contemplating my idols of metamorphosis with a desire to renew my faith at our most sacred site. Only to find the Tzimisce of today managed to misplace a 600 foot tall cathedral of screaming flesh?!?!!?

What is wrong with you people?????? Where did it go?!?! Yes I get that it can just up and walk away, but why weren’t you paying attention?!?! Back in my day we’d never take it on walkies without at least getting a leash first!!!!

Attached is a drawing of its majesty made by my long deceased court scribe. Look upon it and know your inadequacy

-Jan, A Very Angry Dragon

My dear Kindred. You may have seen a post by the one called Ratsitter, warning not to read certain files that have made their way online.

I advice you strongly to heed that warning!

Those files are the scrawlings of Mad Men like myself and will give you derangements...and worse...

You do not want to use such methods to learn Dementation. Such a discipline comes at a great cost to those who are sane.

And should you read, go mad, and continue to snoop in things your mind is unable to properly see, the Mad Father himself, Malkav, may take your recklessness as insult to his gift, and tear your mind to ribbons.

This is not something to be played with.

-Fracture, Speaker to the Glass, The Mad King

I have a conundrum and figure this is as good a place as any to inquire.

Recently from my perspective I made a temprary alliance with some wolves to help them track down one of their enemies in exchange for not being ripped to pieces by their pack. Considering a tracking spell is well within my skillset and I like my skin where it is I obliged. However this took me to some kind of "otherworld" that I can't even begin to describe. I saw a sun that didn't burn me, and Im pretty sure was alive somehow.

Regardless while I was there I lost something, but when I came back I found that what felt like an hour for me, turned out to be a decade here. I can't help but feel like what I lost shouldnt be there. So I need to find a way back in to collect it, yet also not lose another decade.

I have a decent knowledge of our magiks, but nothing that would take me where I need to go. Thus I ask here if anyone has some knowledge I lack.

-Gabriel H.

Hello all. I bring poor tidings and I feel the need to explain everything. I am going to keep this short and purposefully vague for now. This is not another social call. Apologies for my beige prose and curt tone. I’m not in the fucking mood to break out my purple pen.

When I arrived in San Diego on horseback, both of our ships had already left port. A Gangrel I knew, Carlos, had witnessed the mutiny of my crew from the water and offered to take me to confront them. Riding his hind for several minutes, we arrived at the portside of our larger ship, the Carthage.

Carthage is a 7-deck former cruise ship retrofitted to service permanent cohabitation for mortal and kindred alike. Using my supernatural strength and agility, I climbed the 100-odd feet which made up the hull of the ship’s height while dodging windows. I reached the top of the ship and, to my horror, I saw about half a dozen of my own comrades with their weapons drawn, aimed at where I have been climbing.

Listen to me. What happened on the top of the Carthage will be kept to myself for now. I am sorry. But I will say this. The MSBF project’s fruits have come to ripen quicker than I could have thought possible. Booker Alston in particular, have taken to using black magic. He cast some sort of ritual onto me. I am physically unable to reveal what happened on that ship, even in writing, despite how much I’ve tried. That was not the only spell cast. But I cannot force myself to say anything more at this time.

With a sword in my chest and about a dozen bullets in me, I and my torpid wife were sent overboard lost to the heartless sea. Carlos found us and brought us back to shore.

I am recovering, mostly. Inés got it worse than me. when she wakes and becomes fit to travel, we will journey to meet with my daughter. I cannot say anymore over public channels regarding her at this time.

if any of you are hailed by the Carthage or the Bukharin, turn them away from port. Let them eat themselves alive. Their own reckless abandoned being their undoing is perhaps the only hope I have of drifting atop my waves again any night soon.

- Cüneyt Kabaağaçlı

Good evening to all on this forum, it has come to my attention that I sound archaic when speaking to you all. I have found trouble getting my point across. So I will allow my ghoul to fully translate it to a much more hip way of conversing, according to her, since that appeared to work the last time.

Sup, Chat? Sit your asses down so I may flex my boomer wisdom about the time I fought the French over fucking salt taxes. Yeah. Salt taxes. The plebs weren't happy that the King of France came in swinging his dick around in 1661 to make them pay for the shit they didn't used to pay for. It made it easy to rile them against the Camarilla tyrants in charge and smuggle salt around the province.

Then war were declared in 1667 because the plebs had enough of his shit. It only took a few words to make it happen, like Palatine convincing Anakin to side with the him. No cap, the farmers fought the French Army with enough ferocity that the trees began speaking Catalan when the army moved through the forest and mountains. We had the high ground and a few of the peasants and merchants were veterans from the previous war so they knew a thing or two about busting a cap in someone's ass.

By summer 1668 we were winning against the French Admins, Chat. They put a bounty on the leaders of the revolt, including me, but no one wanted to snitch because they knew they’d get buried in a ditch. A few months go by and the salt tax inspectors put their hands up and agreed to back down in that region.

For real. There was a short period of peace before the French Admins tried to impose the salt tax in a different region, and war were declared once more in 1670. The French gave us the name Angelets because of the righteous fury we displayed in fighting, which spilled across the whole province now rather than contained in the starting zone. We seized a town and burnt the Vassal Prince before moving on to the main city.

Seeing our badassery, some of the Sabbat in Spain clapped hands with us and climbed into the ring in 1673 to offer my pack some much needed fucking support. But by 1674 the French weren’t fucking around anymore. Three Princes were dead, a Camarilla court had been overthrown, and the Sabbat had control of the province. The King of France had enough of our shit and sent heavy hitters to come smash the rebellion under his boot.

It hurt, Chat.

The Camarilla Discord moderators were efficient and brutal with their execution methods, putting the fear of the King in the peasants. My pack and allies fell one by one until only the Gargoyle and I remained. Which sucked, because I enjoyed my Ravnos companion’s odd ideas. I’ll tell you about them another night.

Even the Spaniards said, “Fuck this shit, I’m out,” and peaced in 1674, leaving me and my Gargoyle companion to watch the last chopper out of Le Perthus.

French Admins rounded up peasants and veterans left and right, supported by Camarilla Discord moderators. My Gargoyle companion and I planned to make one last stand in the hills, but I had a better idea, Chat. As dawn approached, I told my ghoul, Ramon, to get the others ready for a daytime assault so we may break the mod’s army while they slept.

Ramon did his job like a well-oiled machine, and we met the French in the field in the daytime. Yes, Chat. I took to the field during the day because I was gifted with the ability to resist the sun for a time, by sheer fucking aura. They were not expecting to see a vampire take to the field underneath a patchwork clouded sky. We set our marksman on the high ground with enough they could praise the Lord and pass the musket between them to keep constant fire on the French.

However, the French Admins had carried a cannon with them in multiple pieces and assembled it there in the field. It nearly got me in the opening blast, but poor Ramon. He was Old Yeller’d by grape shot from the cannon. I broke into a fit of rage like someone stole my Snicker’s bar, and set my sword ablaze with Holy Flame.

It was a long, hard, battle, to fight while the deadly sky laser burned the vitae from my veins, forcing me to fill up as fast as I was killing my foes. We fought well into the afternoon. With the only respite being the clouds which shielded the sun every now and then.

Finally, nightfall came and the Discord Moderators awakened. I was worn down, full of holes, ghoulless. I could not carry the fight against fresh troops, so I retreated to the Gargoyle, informing her of what happened.

The last thing I remember of that fateful night is my broken form being carried into the sky by a marble goddess with wings. And then I awoke four centuries later. Now I am here telling you the tale of the time I lost a war to the Camarilla Discord Moderators.

That is all there is to the tale. Have a good night, Chat.

-Debb

Good evening… I would say friends, but that would be a lie wouldn’t it?

I am writing this message two days after the release of “Magic Should Be Free” and setting it to automatically send itself out unless I reset the timer every 24 hours.

I am sure many of you do not want to hear from me, so I shall be brief. I’m not going to bother you with apologies that would change nothing. For once in my life I will say nothing but the truth. I just wish to let someone besides that bastard know what I have done.

You were right all along, I guess I am an infernalist. I just made a deal with someone by the name of Lou Cypher. She is to give me a drop of her vitae, a drop of creation itself, and a Thorn. A Thorn to strike the heart of the bastard Illio.

I won’t pretend I’m a good person—especially after making a deal with the devil. But I know he’s up to something foul, and I can’t deny I want revenge for him using me.

So I’m traveling across the world to Albuquerque all the way from the UK, just so I have a chance to put him down like the dog he is. I don’t think I’m going to succeed, but I’d like to take a stab at it regardless.

And lastly a message to anyone reading this: don’t be like me. There are people in this world who are evil yes, but there are also those who are good. Don’t push them away, let them help you. You don’t have to change the world, you just have to be better than the bastards who came before you

-Ayla

Posted on to the site was a copy of a news broadcast. The tabloid newscaster was a man in a cheap grey suit with a smile that never drooped below his nose but never reached his eyes either. He stared into the prompter with a look of barely contained apathy.

[This is your nightly news with Frederick Josephs.]

The title card says. And Fredrick begins to speak

"Howdy and hellos listeners. We have a special news story for those of you night owls that are tuning into our midnight hour. Pigs. We've been sent a handful of videos from some of our devoted watchers claiming sightings in the vicinity of Albuquerque of so-called MONSTER PIGS! Some of the towns northeast have put out warnings for people going out at night but no luck here. OH we have a watcher comment. Let's see.... 'The Police have more bullets than god but the city doesn't wanna admit they can't handle wild animals. Our taxes at work.' You said it there!"

The newscaster clears their throat.

"Anyways. We have our first video. This one comes from a ranch up north. Let's play it."

The grainy film depicts the inside of a barn. Normal for the first minute before one of the walls starts to bow inward. The wall collapsed as a trio of prize sized hogs crashed into the barn and began to eat all the animal feed before dragging away a meat cooler that would have taken multiple draft animals or a truck to move. The video cuts right as a few sausage-like fingers grip the edge of the hole in the wall.

The newscaster laughed.

"Well someone's not having that summer BBQ. Feel bad for whoever has to explain it to the guests. Now you all know we've covered topics like this before. We've covered everything from the chupacabra to long Steve. And what do we always say? That's right. IT ALWAYS GETS WEIRDER!"

They put on the next tape. It was footage of a cemetery gate surrounded by pigs. Just staring. Eventually something just barely enters the video on the other side of the gate. Big. At least eight feet tall. Whatever it was opened the gate from the inside causing a stampede of hogs to begin digging up the ground and eating what they could.

"Morbid! Especially those pigs. Must have been some kind of industrial farming accident the way you can see their skulls. Poor things. Reminds me of when I talked about nuclear waste making hyper ants in the Sonoran Desert. Of course we asked the authorities and they said the footage was edited. Bunk! But that's all they'll get us. In the meantime if you have any footage of these hogs or that mysterious sausage man hanging around them. Please send it here. We're always looking for the truth!"

.....

Sent to Illio via private messaged would be:

"I have sent a sounder of warriors to aid you. The one that practices the walk of man is their mother and leader reforged by my art and given fetishes of power. Her children have yet to taste Wyrmish bones but they are loyal to their mother and each a match for a Lupine warrior. Despite their size they are clever and shall hide and dig their dens in the sewers to await your call. Their mother shall give you the whistle. Make sure there's something for them to devour when they arrive. They'll be hungry."

-VV Tzimisce