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What do I think of the Toreador?
      (There is a thoughtful pause, followed by the gargling in the mouth of at least a Blood Point’s worth of vitæ and the sudden, violent vomiting thereof onto the nearest wall, accompanied by facial contortions and the grossest, most disgusting retching noises imaginable.)


Definitely a PR coup for us. Take the most rigid, uncreative, predictable bunch of dweebs in all vampiredom. Spread a few 1 i – er, creative generalizations about ‘em. The Tremere are coming! Watch your ass around the Tremere! The Tremere are the strike force of the Antediluvians! The Tremere killed Kennedy! (leans closer) Listen, man, the Tremere are about as dangerous as my grandmother. Just don’t let ‘em get a hold of any of your blood, you got nothing to worry about. Well, almost nothing...

Huh? What do I mean, almost? Well, that little bit o’ data’ll cost ya...


The biggest idiots of all. They really don’t get it, do they? They want to put their asses on the firing line! Here I am, guys! I’m the leader! Come get me first! Let ‘em, man. They’ll be the first to go, and it don’t mean squat to me.

Other than that, I say hey, if they wanna do all the managerial shit work, more power to ‘em. And it’s kinda funny to go up to ‘em in a conclave and watch ‘em try to be all polite and chummy to you, even though the sight of you makes ‘em want to retch. Then start acting more and more disgusting and foul, and watch ‘em really squirm. Wow, Mr. Prince, sir, thanks so much for saving us from the Sabbat. Gosh, I just want to shake your hand. Oh, sorry about the mucus – and that chunk, that’s just month-old rat cartilage. I’m sure you have a couple of Dominated dry-cleaners to take that right off.


Poor bloody bastards. They get screwed over even more than we do. Still, every now and then you need someone to screw over so’s you can go about more important business. When that happens, well...sorry, man, but them’s the breaks.


Oh dear, oh dear, the big bad-Assamites! They try to be great and terrible killers, but we ain’t impressed. Can’t kill whatcha can’t find, and we taught ‘em everything they know about sneakin’.


Who? Oh yeah, those guys. (long backward look over shoulder, followed by a shudder) No comment.


Kinda one of those Gangrel situations, where ya get along ‘cause there’s no reason not to. We don't got nothin’ worth stealing and they don’t really care about information. Fair enough. Anyway, they screw over the Toreador as much as anyone, and that's more than good enough for me.


Set is a Nictuku, one's Nosteratu’s childer. These guys are twisted, just on the inside. One’a these days it’s gonna be them or us. Till then I stay the hell away from 'em, Bastards.


Here’s a little – whaddaya call it, analogy? – about the Camarilla. Say you’re learnin’ to scuba dive. The instructor people always tell you never to go under without a buddy, or more than one. Why is that, you suppose? You’re thinking maybe it’s ‘cause if a shark shows up, you and your pals can team up and hit the fishie in the nose and it’ll go away?

Wrong. It’s ‘cause when (not if, when – always remember that) Jaws Jr. shows up, the more people you got down there with you, the less chance it is that sharkie’ll go after you first. And while he’s munching your buddy, you get the hell outta the water. Now if he’s got, oh, say, six other guys to eat first, your chances of reachin’ the shore’re that much improved.
        You see now why we’re in the Camarilla?


They got good ideas, but the way they go about implementin' 'em’s just so freakin’ stupid it makes the whole point moot. I mean, ya just kinda wanta go over to ‘em and slap ‘em upside the head and try to get ‘em to think a second, ya know? Trying to find the Anted’luvians by killing and maiming humans is kinda like swinging at one’a those pinata things – the Sabbat got a big stick, but it don’t do much good ‘cause they’re all blindfolded.


They hate us and want to kill us. They want to preserve the countryside; we want to build more cities so we got more hidey-holes. Cats and dogs – pardon the pun. Take ‘em out if ya can; run to ground if ya can’t.


See, we know something the others don’t. Just like there are lots of Kindred clans, there are lots of Lupine clans – they got names like Red Walkers and Running Bears and Pine-Cone Butt-Wipers and what have you. But there’s one clan that’s really kinda discombobulatin’, ‘cause they’re competin’ for our little ecosystem. And they’re crazier than Malkavians and make the Brujah look like toy poodles. They’re called the Black Spiral Dancers and they’re trying

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