Those who doubt that the Embrace is a curse need look no further than the Nosferatu. Twisted by the mark of Caine, members of Clan Nosferatu are warped by the Embrace into hideous monsters. As such, they skulk and keep to the shadows, and they often rouse the ire and mockery of other Kindred for their nightmarish appearances. Still others are so terrified or revolted by the Nosferatu that these warped Kindred have little social interaction at all.

To their credit, the Nosferatu come to possess many of the whispered secrets of their reluctant fellows. The Sewer Rats enjoy a grudging respect as the information-brokers of the Kindred, given their supernatural acumen at stealth and the fact that many Kindred would rather ignore them than acknowledge them. Savvy Nosferatu exploit this for all it’s worth, turning the hypocrisy of other vampires to their own profit.

On the whole, the Nosferatu condition is lonely and alienating. How they react to the Curse of Caine varies with their outlook and mental stamina, but it’s hard to be an object of utter revulsion and not let it shape one’s disposition toward one’s “Kindred” in some way. Some of the Sewer Rats are cruel, as blighted on the inside as they are on the outside, while others are tragic, wretched creatures who have been cursed with eternal outsider status through no choice of their own. A few of the Sewer Rats even position themselves as prophets or avatars of the Damned, physically embodying the haunting riddle, “A Beast I am, lest a Beast I become.”

Forgotten History

Go away. No seriously, just fuck off. Have you just come to see how ugly I am, to be amazed at the horrible curse of my Clan? No? In that case, you are here for secrets. Don’t make that face. I know what the rest of you are like, and none of you really wants to be friends. You think I’m being unkind? Invite me to your next party if you are so unprejudiced. No, I didn’t think so. Well pretty boy, if you want secrets you’ll have to pay, and your own secrets will cost you so much more.

That’s it, shuffle away to your fashionable parties and your elegant salons. You don’t want the real truth; it’s ugly, just like me. I’ll tell my stories to the ratties. They know how to keep secrets.

You want to know about history? Huh. Didn’t figure you for the type. Okay, let’s talk about history. Most people think this all began with Caine, but despite this being “common knowledge,” nobody really knows. It seems that the less we see of Caine, the more people believe he is out there somewhere.

There’s no evidence of course, for any of it. No one reliable has ever seen our progenitor; no archaeologist has ever found the ruins of the First or even the Second City. You still naïve enough to believe it? Knock yourself out. It is a convenient conceit, I’ll give it that, and it gives us all a history to debate and feel special about. The truth is that our history is lost, but at least the stories are entertaining.

So when we talk about history, we’re really talking about faerie stories. I’ve got no problem with that; me and the ratties love a good tale. But let’s see them for what they are. Take from them what you will, even believe them if you like. I’ll leave that up to you.

Zillah and Nosferatu

I’ve heard it said that the original Nosferatu was a hunter. He was made by Zillah, one of Caine’s children who sought allies against her brothers. It seems the Second Generation were just as much rivals as the Third Generation and sought to build a powerbase with their children. This really shouldn’t come as any surprise. It should be clear to even a modern vampire that we’ve been fighting with each other for centuries.

Nosferatu (and we’ll come back to his “name” in a bit) was a loner, who stayed away from the city to stalk through the forests. He had a reputation as the best hunter in the land, able to spend days in the wilderness, returning with enough game to feed most of his village. As he eschewed city life, Zillah concluded Nosferatu would not be poisoned by its politics nor fall under the influence of her brothers. She sought him out and literally made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Initially, Nosferatu was quite happy with his newfound power. Already a superb hunter, his vampiric abilities made him unstoppable. He could wrestle with the strongest lion, move about the forest almost invisibly, and even command the animals to come to him. With Gangrel, he made the wilderness his home, and they often ran together as kindred (lowercase “k” there) spirits.

Unfortunately, we all know Caine’s immortality does not come without cost. Where Nosferatu had once been a part of nature, at one with the land and the cycle of life and death, now he was an exile. The land no longer spoke to him; he could no longer feel the turn of the seasons and the flow of life. While he could easily track and slaughter any animal, he no longer felt like a true hunter. He was simply a hungry dead thing taking what he wanted from a land he was no longer a part of. Zillah’s platitudes that he would grow used to his new state only made him angrier. It seemed even his sire had no answers, nor even an understanding of how he was condemned.

It was not long before he began to plot revenge. As with many of the Third Generation, he created a brood of his own. He chose hunters, but not those like himself. He selected his childer from those already apart from the land. He took murderers and killers, those who glorified in hunting human prey. He trained them well, and with their new powers and lust for blood, they quickly became very effective.

Nosferatu claimed he was creating a private army for Zillah and she was very pleased. Eventually he asked her to leave the city and visit him to inspect his new followers. Once they had her alone, Nosferatu and his brood fell upon Zillah and attempted to slay her. Zillah slaughtered most of Nosferatu’s followers and managed to escape. Nosferatu realized he and his band were in deep trouble and made a run for it.

When Caine heard about the affair, he took great exception to conflict between his children and grandchildren. He sought out Nosferatu and challenged him to explain himself. Nosferatu told him everything. Feeling his grandchilde’s pain, Caine decided not to destroy him, and instead cursed him. He twisted Nosferatu’s body until it resembled the monster he had become, and did the same to all his followers.

At that, Caine considered the matter closed, but Nosferatu did not. He left the city with his followers, never to return. He vowed to have revenge one day and visit destruction on all Kindred. He would cleanse them from the earth, and he charged his Nictuku to never rest until the Kindred were purged.

The Mother

It’s a pretty tale, but there are a few inconsistencies. Nosferatu’s goal has certainly become harder as time has passed. He must be pretty upset there are more of us than ever in the modern age. Maybe his Nictuku really aren’t that good after all? I’ll take the fifth on that one. The big problem here is that if Nosferatu’s children are the Nictuku, where did all the rest of us come from? Well, that’s another faerie story.

After Caine twisted him, Nosferatu was understandably upset. Several sources, including the Book of Nod, say he was something of a looker. But even if he wasn’t, it’s pretty hard to get used to a face like this in the early days. He was full of rage and hate, just looking to settle his hurt on someone else. It so happened he came across a woman washing clothes in a stream. She was young and beautiful, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Anger and jealousy rose up in him as he watched her and, finding her alone, he fell upon her and Embraced her. He laughed as he watched her body twist and deform, and left her to her fate.

However, this woman was more than just a laundress. She served in the city and had learned to pass information between the various factions. She was an accomplished spy and, having an understanding of the politics of the Kindred, she knew what she had become, even if her new visage tormented her. She went to Zillah, who comforted her and gave her a place among the Kindred. She became the ally Zillah had originally wanted, and they became very close. She hid herself away and used her abilities to listen and report on the other factions for her mistress. She and her childer gained respect and a reputation as secret keepers, and thereby claimed a place in vampire society.

It is this woman, known simply as “the Mother” or even somewhat controversially in some records as “Lilith,” to whom we owe our lineage. While she was only of the Fourth Generation, we consider her our founder and progenitor. She is the creator of all we are as a Clan, if not the origin of our blood. The Mother’s success at building the Clan Nosferatu is said to be one of the many reasons Nosferatu and his Nictuku hate us above all else. Not least of which is the way she sided with Zillah. She succeeded where Nosferatu had failed, and prospered where he had fallen. There are those who say they have seen the Mother, but such stories are as apocryphal as sightings of Caine. Still, it is nice to think that not every ancient being who watches over us is out to destroy us.

However, the Mother may not be the only Nosferatu we trace our origins to. Nosferatu is often also referred to as Absimiliard, but it is sometimes unclear if they are the same person, especially as there are several conflicting stories about both. Perhaps Absimiliard is the leader of the Nictuku, and Nosferatu is his beautiful brother who loved Arikel — I’ll get to that rubbish in a minute — yet both suffered the same curse. If both were actually of the Third Generation, it might explain the lineage of the rare few Nosferatu who claim to be Fourth Generation. Somewhere out there, we may have an Antediluvian who is actually on our side. However, I suspect it is more likely that such elders have reached their Generation by diablerie and are lying to cover up their crimes.

Arikel and Nosferatu

There is another tale that tells us Nosferatu was once beautiful, so much so in fact that no woman could resist him. As you might expect, he set his sights on the most beautiful woman he knew, Arikel, the first of the Toreador. The tales suggest that theirs was an epic love. Two unearthly beings drawn together as one, ensorcelled by the power of each other’s wonder.

Unfortunately it was not to last. Nosferatu was cursed with ugliness. Some say it was because he betrayed Caine, others say he was a twisted soul whose outside gradually came to resemble his inside. When the Nosferatu tell this tale (and few do), Arikel is repulsed by his ugliness and cannot bear to look upon him anymore. She refuses to stand by him, proving her love was only skin-deep. When the Toreador tell the tale, they often suggest Arikel tried her best to stay with Nosferatu, but he was so ashamed at what he had become he pushed her away. Whatever the truth, the long and short of it was that Nosferatu and Arikel were an item, but his corruption tore them apart.

If you believe that garbage, you must be a Toreador. It’s the only place rubbish like that could have started. We were once the most beautiful and now the most condemned. Oh woe! If only we could once more reclaim our loveliness, everything would be perfect! Until that time, we must skulk in shame in the dark. Oh, what cursed creatures we are! Boo bloody fucking hoo.

Sure, I get it. It would be nice to be pretty, but what most people who tell this tale forget is that we really don’t care. Only a Toreador would believe an entire Clan would be unable to just get over it in time. The loss of a pretty face might seem the worst thing in the world to a Toreador, but to us it’s little more than a pain in the ass. All this tale does is keep us down, telling us we should be ashamed of what we are. Well, screw that.

The Deal

So there are a few tales about how we came to be, but the more interesting ones are about how we became what we are. From the earliest Kindred legends, the vampires lived in cities, and until the Romans came around there were no real sewers we could lurk in. So how did we come to scurry in the dark? I like to trace that back to the old Irish legends.

It is said that the Irish were not native to the Emerald Isle, but that they came from the mainland looking for a new home. They followed in the footsteps of an ancient people called the Tuatha Dé Danann who had taken the land from a race of terrible giants called the Formori. The Tuatha were in no mood to share their territory and refused to allow the Celts to land. They even summoned a great storm to try to destroy them as they moored offshore. However, the Celts persisted, and a great battle was fought that saw the deaths of many kings. While the Tuatha brought to bear many supernatural powers, they were eventually defeated.

However, it was a hard won victory, and by no means decisive. Both sides agreed to divide the land between them and abide by the wisdom of the Celtic poet Amergin. Unfortunately, he cheated the Tuatha. While he divided the land equally, he gave everything above the ground to the Celts and everything below the ground to the Tuatha. They retreated deep under the earth and became the faerie folk, a race of strange, often misshapen, and alien creatures with magical power.

The story is a legend of course, but perhaps there is a grain of truth. Perhaps it records a battle between the forces of a vampire army and a human one, and a truce that allowed them to live together. Like the fey of folklore, we are powerful creatures that come in a variety of misshapen forms. However, we have heard tales of the real fey, so perhaps it is best for us not to claim their legends for ourselves. A Malkavian once told me they are a jealous people.

For all these intriguing faerie stories, there is a school of thought that what we are is simple science. Our appearance might be nothing to do with curses and treachery, but instead the result of years of evolution. We are perfectly suited to be the monsters we are, after all. Our leathery skin protects us from the damp environment, our large ears let us hear the echoes down the tunnels, and our big eyes let us see better in the darkness. Maybe we are monsters because we have chosen to become monsters, our lives in darkness making us creatures of the darkness.

But perhaps it is the other way around. Maybe the other Clans have evolved. They have become human so they might merge with their prey. As time passes, they get more attractive to their targets, able to lure them closer and closer. If that is so, we are the primal creatures of legend, the monsters we are all descended from. Perhaps there are no sightings of Caine, because no one is looking for a monster like us?

The Empire of the Nosferatu

Every Clan seems to have its golden age: the Rome of the Ventrue, the Carthage of the Brujah, ad nauseam. Sure, vampires don’t control humans nearly as well as we think we do, but it’s true that certain Clans in certain places at certain times were in a good position to push the pieces around. The Ventrue started calling it an “empire,” and then everyone had to have one.

We are no different, but you are unlikely to have heard of the great empires of the Nosferatu. In ancient days, our control spread over a larger area than the whole of Europe. We accepted tribute and sacrifice from thousands of humans who treated us as small gods, who must be appeased so as not to bring disaster. How have you not heard of this empire? The answer is simple: because history only pays attention to the first world, and we once ruled over much of the deepest parts of Africa. We made our domain the places of forest so dark the sun barely penetrated the canopy. We left Egypt and the northern deserts to the Setites and the rest, and each of us carved a domain among the tribes of the old places.

Among the villages of our domains, we became part of the people’s superstitions. We played the hand we had been dealt, and instead of trying to be human, we remained monsters. We did not rule openly. Instead, we commanded tribute and fear from the shadows as “forest demons.” While we were appeased, we protected the villages in our charge. We formed an almost symbiotic relationship with humanity, protecting and nurturing them as much as we fed on them. But we left each other to our own devices, staying in close contact but essentially accepting no society but our own.

Urban Expansion

Our golden age could not last though. As the ages passed, Europe began to take notice of Africa and moved to exploit it. There was little we could do to resist. The Europeans were organized, numerous, and dedicated to taking the resources of our lands and even our people. Our lands were taken one village and one Kindred at a time, and were gone before we really knew what was happening. Our people were stolen as slaves, the villages emptied of our tribute. We were not ready to fight on such an industrial scale, and were forced to capitulate and return to the cities.

But what cities! Each was a magnificent cauldron of humanity and pestilence. The ages of industry had come upon us. Humanity packed itself tightly in these places for our convenience and wallowed in filth together. Initially, the African Nosferatu looked down at their skulking European cousins. We had been kings and they were sewer dwellers. But we began to respect them once we understood what they had made together. They were kings and queens of vast undercities made of sewers, underground trains, and catacombs buried under the new cities. There was a whole world under the earth, one that had been quietly constructed where no one was especially looking.

We exchanged stories about the wars among the Kindred and the formation of two great Sects. It mattered little to any of us. Let the others play their games as long as they leave us alone. Let them call themselves Camarilla or Sabbat; they both treat the Nosferatu the same way. We gradually forgot our broken empires in Africa and dedicated ourselves to a new empire, deep below. We have always been urban creatures, even before the cities, so we carved a place for ourselves out of the earth and buried ourselves among the trash and secrets of those who lived above.

Modern Monsters

Everyone thinks they know the Nosferatu, those skulks who lurk in the shadows and eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. However, most people confuse “knowing” with “ignoring.” The other Clans dismiss the Nosferatu because they don’t seem to fit in, but tolerate us because we manage to keep ourselves to ourselves. We rarely rise to challenge the others, remaining neutral and selling secrets to all sides. There are few Nosferatu Princes or Archbishops. Those who do take command are often thought to be puppets or a convenient placeholder, the candidate no one wants but no one really objects to.

The Nosferatu are proof that not every vampire is obsessed with power and ambition. We are happy to remain in the background because we know what is out there. Hiding seems the best option when you know what lies in the shadows, and we are well aware that the nail that stands out gets hammered. So let the others take center stage, bask in the glory and the limelight. Better to forego transitory accolades and survive than be famous and dead.

Being ignored does have its advantages, and the Nosferatu have capitalized on them. Like the servants of old, we realized we had become practically invisible among our “betters.” As the other Kindred didn’t see us as a threat or even peers, they were not so guarded about what they said in our presence. In this way, rumor and gossip became the Nosferatu’s trade. Secrets are a very reliable commodity, especially in vampire society. Often untraceable and potentially very valuable, they cost nothing to maintain or copy. It is sometimes even more profitable to offer to keep a secret than it is to offer to tell one. Many Kindred have told their secrets to the Nosferatu and paid them to keep quiet — we’ll probably find out anyway, so getting to us first and paying us off is the best plan.

We are continually ostracized and persecuted, but hypocritically relied upon for our resources and neutrality. We care little what the others think, though. Being outcast, we prefer our own company and trust only each other. Everyone else is a potential mark.

On Being Ugly

No vampire Clan wears their curse more clearly than we do, but how much of a curse it really is depends a lot on the Nosferatu in question. Some Nosferatu are beautiful people Embraced out of spite, and it is these unfortunates who have the most trouble dealing with their new appearance. However, the Nosferatu don’t usually look for their new childer from among the fashionable set. Most are outsiders from low class backgrounds, and a good few weren’t cover model material before they became vampires. If appearance didn’t matter to them before the Embrace, why should it matter any afterwards?

Still, the change ain’t a walk in the park. It’s not only painful, but something of a shock. Given the modern image of a vampire we get from shitty TV shows and teen novels, it’s rarely what a new Kindred was expecting. It may seem unfair that everyone else is pretty. However, every Clan suffers a curse of the blood in some way. Is it really any better to be paralyzed by beauty, restricted to a particular kind of blood, or driven completely insane?

What makes the Nosferatu appearance a lot easier to bear is that we tend not to associate with other Kindred very often. We don’t get invited to the nice parties or asked to hang out in the salons of the Elysium. When you spend all your time in the company of monsters, they gradually become the norm. After a while, it is the humans and other vampires who begin to look strange.

In many cases, the appearance of the Nosferatu is actually a badge of pride. We are monsters who look like monsters, our ugliness stripping away any pretense. Everything is laid bare when dealing with the Nosferatu, making us the keepers of the real truth, uncluttered by any sugar coating. You want an answer, the Nosferatu will give it to you, but you’d better be ready to get it straight. In this way, the ugliness of the Clan is not really considered a weakness. Not by me, anyway.

The Nictuku

There is only one problem with knowing more secrets than anyone else knows: you know what is out there in the darkness. As if life wasn’t hard enough, most of us believe there is a group of ancient and powerful elders looking to hunt down and destroy every last one of us, led by none other than our Antediluvian progenitor. It might sound like a bedtime story to frighten the neonates, but most of the Nosferatu elders will claim the rumors are true as well.

Exactly who and what the Nictuku are and what their plans are depends on which Nosferatu you talk to. Some believe they are literal monsters, their humanity long gone. Others know them to be careful and silent, waiting in the deep shadows to pick off the Nosferatu one at a time. All agree they are both dangerous and unpredictable, experienced hunters who know how to kill without leaving any trace.

Having said that, there are those who think the Nictuku are clearly a myth. The legends sound like a bedtime story, because they really are just bedtime stories. If these creatures are so powerful and so clever, how come the Nosferatu are not long dead already? Sure, lone Nosferatu often disappear mysteriously, but with so many enemies is that really any wonder? While the Nosferatu like to think they know everything that is going on, the other Kindred are hardly amateurs. The Ventrue, Tremere, or Lasombra might have quietly removed plenty of us because they “knew too much.”

Still, the rumors persist. What is known is that when Nosferatu lose their humanity, they have a tendency to go deeper into the earth or sewers to move away from the light and the life of the city. It is certainly true that there are elder Nosferatu who have been driven mad by their Beast and wait in the shadows to slaughter anything that crosses their path. Are these the Nictuku? It is the one secret even we don’t really know, or even want to know. Our childer are taught one thing about the Nictuku, though: whatever you believe, if you meet something dark and deep in the shadows, you run.

The ShreckNet

Just because we live in the sewers, it doesn’t mean we haven’t embraced technology. A decade or so ago, one of the New York Nosferatu created a Deep Web system for the Clan to share information. The idea caught on, and soon all of us were sharing what we heard online. Algorithms and bots constantly scan the data looking to create links between the information so the Clan can build an overall picture of who is doing what.

Pretty much any Nosferatu in good standing with the Clan has access to the SchreckNet. Those that aren’t in good standing just don’t get the new passwords whenever there is a periodic change. In a short time, the network has become more than just a database: it has become a social network as well. Some of the younger Nos have even started calling it Filthbook and Garbage+.

We sometimes allow other Clans to use the system. We don’t like doing it, but sometimes you have to play nice. When we do let others in, it’s only for a limited time, and they rarely realize how little of the system they are getting access to. If any of the others knew quite how big the network was, they would do their best to shut it down. However, it proved very useful for everyone during the battle of New York, and since then we heard the other Clans are looking to build their own networks.

Nosferatu Factions

When it comes to group activities, the Nosferatu are a study in opposites. On one hand, we are all highly individual and often loners. No two of us are especially alike, and our appearance often makes us avoid the company of others. However, on the other hand, we crave the company of our own kind. To be with other Nosferatu is a reminder that we are not alone, that our appearance is not unique, and that others suffer as we do.

So Nosferatu gatherings are rather awkward affairs. Everyone wants to be there, but few of us really want to take part. It’s not like we’re known for our social skills or witty banter. The same goes for the factions. A few Nosferatu that recognize similar outlooks and traits form into groups, but these groups are little more than an extended contacts network. Few ever have meetings or any form of agenda. However, they do find the occasional company of such peers supportive, as it helps us feel less alone and outcast. Some also find that giving themselves a label gives them a sense of belonging beyond being just Nosferatu.

Bestials

It you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Bestials are those Nosferatu that have become sick of trying to live up to human norms. Instead, they embrace the primitive parts of their nature. They reason that animals are far less complicated, and certainly lack the hypocrisy inherent in many humans. As the human world has rejected them, Bestials choose a different world and remove themselves from even Kindred society.

Joining this faction for a time is common for many new Nosferatu as a way to cope with their new state. But some Nosferatu make it a full-on lifestyle choice. They often become unrecognizable, even to other Nosferatu. They might take on bestial traits in the same way as the Gangrel, but far more advanced. Instead of pointed ears or catlike eyes, they might gain reptilian skin or even a tail. I don’t know how it happens, but a few of us point to the Bestials are more evidence that maybe we’re not that far from the Gangrel.

Cleopatras

The most brutalized of the Nosferatu are the Cleopatras. As humans they were beautiful, and in many cases shallow and cruel because of it. They were Embraced out of spite as a punishment or a lesson. As such, they are often outcasts among the Clan, as if knowing beauty has somehow tainted them, so they group together for mutual protection. Many eventually become part of the Clan, as what sets them apart is a lack of knowledge about our traditions and society. However, some nurse the anger they feel, especially when they find out that most vampires do not share this curse. Some say they are the ones who find their way to the Nictuku and join their ranks.

I asked about the name once. It turns out it doesn’t come from the Egyptian queen, but for the “heroine” of Todd Browning’s film Freaks. That Cleopatra was an acrobat whose cruelty provoked the “freaks” of the traveling circus she worked in to remake her into one of them. No one is sure if the faction actually had a name before the film’s release, and some historians have suggested that it is the modern era that has created the cult of beauty. Perhaps in older times it wasn’t really such a big deal.

The act of creating such a creature is highly controversial to most Nosferatu. While on one hand they applaud taking one of the pretty people down a peg, on the other it reinforces the myth that to be Nosferatu is a curse in itself. Cleopatras were not really meant to be Nosferatu, and rarely understand the gift they have been given. However, while many end their existence by their own hand, those who do survive often prosper and find a way to move past their initial horror. In a few cases it even makes them better people, forcing them to see past appearance and do their best to empathize and help those who have also suffered.

Fagins

Family is important to most people, even the Nosferatu. For some the closeness of the Clan is not enough, and they choose to create a new family of their own. What family they gather will depend on the Nosferatu in question. Gangs of street urchins are just as likely as a collection of killers and murderers. For the Fagin, it is about belonging rather than what the group actually is, so the group is really a reflection of the Nosferatu’s personality.

To cement the bond of family, the Nosferatu will usually use the blood bond. This makes their little group more of a blood cult than a society. Some Fagins get obsessed with growing their cult, or the power goes to their heads and they become a monstrous god in their own eyes. Such extremes usually occur in the Sabbat, but plenty of Camarilla Fagins have got carried away in the past.

Leatherfaces

A step further than the Bestials are the Leatherfaces, named after the iconic character from Texas Chainsaw Massacre. (Yeah, we get some of our stuff from movies. It’s not like we get many chances to go out to the cabaret for our evening entertainment, do we?) Anyhow, before the film the faction had many colorful names, such as Butchers and Rippers. These Kindred have chosen to embrace not just their bestial nature, but also their monstrous side. Most have given up entirely on humanity and allowed themselves to become the monster they appear to be. Quite often, they are the result of the Embrace of some badly broken people, but some are driven over the edge. However, in the case of the Nosferatu antitribu, this behavior is positively encouraged.

Leatherfaces believe themselves to be the monsters in the dark. It isn’t enough to kill; their victims must be terrified before they die. They want their victims to know who they are, and know that true horror has come out of the night to murder them. As such, they make a point of using brutal and savage weapons, and adopt the tropes of horror films such as dark basements, lonely cabins, and trails of blood. Despite being capable of killing their victims quickly with their vampiric powers, most like to hunt them for as long as possible to prolong the terror.

Loremasters

For some Nosferatu, secrets are not enough. They seek to learn more about their condition, often so they might better understand it. With the Nosferatu gift to sift fact from fiction and see the truth behind the lies, they make excellent scholars. Many expand their studies outside vampiric lore and latch on to the history and society of other supernatural creatures.

Like many academics, Loremasters can be very jealous of their research. Some even go so far as to seed rumors and lies for others to find so they alone might hold the truth. For the truly dedicated Loremaster, that is simply an interesting challenge. Nothing holds the attention of these academics more than a good mystery and supernatural lore is overflowing with those.

Martyrs

Becoming Nosferatu is far more of a gear change for a new vampire than for any other Clan, or so I imagine. It is bad enough to come to accept you are a blood-drinking creature of the night with only the most tenuous control over your base urges, but couple that with seeing your own body twisted into a horrific form. The Embrace is hard for the Nosferatu and often even physically painful as well.

To help them deal with all these changes, many Nosferatu make a point of holding on to something human. It might be their family, a sense of justice, or even people watching. But for some, this develops into something of a complex. They latch onto morality and try to calm their own inner demons by becoming an avenger for those who fail to live up to the Nosferatu’s moral standards. Their focus on humanity leads them to believe their monstrous change is some form of punishment, and so they are commonly referred to as Martyrs.

The problem is that while they are keen students of morality and humanity, they are still monsters at heart. While many watch from a distance, those who interact with humanity often suffer tragic results. Many kill those they are trying to protect, or visit terrible justice for the smallest of infractions. It ain’t pretty to watch, and this is me saying that.

Skins

Not every Nosferatu enjoys living in the sewers and the company of their Clan-mates. The Skins use their powers to disguise themselves as humans and infiltrate mortal society. Many have quite detailed and developed aliases among the kine. They are highly skilled actors, working undercover to build a whole new life (or even lives) outside the dark places of the Nosferatu.

The Skins are very useful for the Clan itself, often in command of resources few Nosferatu control. They are also experts on current affairs and on what is going on in the world above. Unfortunately, many are unstable. The most common reason to become a Skin is as a rejection or an outright denial of their new nature. Eventually they cannot hide who they are, especially from themselves, and that is when it all begins to fall apart.

Warrens

As the rest of the Kindred leave the Nosferatu to their own devices and happily grant them dominion over the sewers of the city, the Nosferatu have free reign to make the places their own. A few agents in the sanitation department keep things quiet, and a little nudge in the city infrastructure planning meetings gets some remodeling done. Generally, as long as they function, no one cares what is happening in the sewers.

The Nosferatu make their homes down here among the filth. However, they can always find dry and even quite pleasant places to hold meetings and build sanctuaries and havens. Influence in the city planning office sees to it these places are remodeled to suit their needs. But the Nosferatu are not shy about getting their hands dirty and rebuilding some of the tunnels themselves. These places the Nosferatu have claimed and remade are referred to as “Warrens,” and any other Kindred would be fools to try and visit them. Warrens are often labyrinthine and typically have sections full of shit to dissuade those outside the Clan. You want to get in with the Nosferatu? You’d better be prepared to get your hands dirty, and pretty much the rest of you, too.

While each Warren is as individual as the Nosferatu who created it, they always contain a few spawning pools. These are places where the Clan has corrupted the local water with their blood. It ensures the rats, lice, and other creatures that drink or live in this water get a dose of Nosferatu blood. This allows us far greater control over such animals and vermin, and helps us create more effective animal ghouls and swarms as spies. While Nosferatu are just as capable of creating human ghouls, we usually prefer animals and insects. Our blood often corrupts human ghouls in either body or mind, limiting their effectiveness as agents in the human world. So rats and cockroaches, coupled with Animalism, often make far better agents.

Nosferatu Warrens have been known to sprawl deep into the earth. In old European towns where the city has been built over, they have whole buildings and streets refitted for our use under the sewers. Many use the opportunity to remodel as a chance to share their art. In some, the walls are covered with intricate carvings, while in others the tunnels themselves are cut in beautiful shapes and forms. Some Warrens go so deep they open into underground rivers and caves full of crystals. There is a staggering beauty to be found here, but one we guard jealously.

What few Clans know is that Warrens are not exclusively underground, and neither are the Nosferatu. Some cities have very little underground infrastructure due to unstable soil or concerns over earthquakes. It is also important to note that the Clan survived for many millennia without sewer systems to hide in. Given the convenience of sewers, however, those cities without them are rare, and often contain few modern Nosferatu.

Where we can’t dig into the earth, the Nosferatu create a series of safe houses. These might be caves, basements, or just ordinary homes. They are then kept secret by alternating the use of each location, so none of them gets used too often. The members of the Clan commit to memory the elaborate systems developed for how they are used and for what. So, an old house downtown might be the main Clan meeting place one week, empty the next, and used as a spawning pool for a month afterwards. In a sense, the Nosferatu create a series of virtual tunnels that connect each of these (often physically unconnected) places, which shift and change to protect the network. Modern technology has made this easier, and the SchreckNet can be used to give those of us new to a city a clue on where to start to meet our own kind.

The other main problem of not having any tunnels is how to avoid the sun. Unlike the Gangrel, we generally lack the ability to hide in the ground, so we need some sort of sanctuary. What does give us an advantage is that we don’t care where that sanctuary might be. Nosferatu have dug into the loose piles of rubbish in landfill sites or let themselves sink to the bottom of deep lakes. Some of these places might even be made part of our network.

The Antitribu

While the Camarilla Nosferatu spend their time trying to avoid becoming the horrors they resemble, our counterparts in the Sabbat revel in their monstrosity. To the antitribu, their bodies are a mark of pride, a clear indication they are no longer human, and that human rules no longer apply. In a way, the physical distortion of the Clan makes it a lot easier for Nosferatu to cast off their humanity and acclimatize to being part of the Sabbat. In fact, many employ their packmates among the Tzimisce to make them even more disfigured.

Interestingly, Sabbat Nosferatu are not as violent and bloodthirsty as many of their sect-mates. They certainly have their fair share of Leatherfaces and Fagins, but they rarely engage in the wholesale slaughter young Sabbat are prone to. The antitribu simply feel that they have little to prove, so when they do take life en masse, they are doing so for a very particular reason.

While the Camarilla and Sabbat Nosferatu are on opposite sides, they do maintain a few open lines of communication. Antitribu even have access to the SchreckNet, as both sides recognize the use of the other in learning more secrets. They also both understand the use of the other side in spreading disinformation, and so treat what intelligence they get with a pinch of salt. Having said that, they are both terrified of the Nictuku. This is especially true of the antitribu, given one of the Sabbat’s stated goals is to make war on their founders. So it is unsurprising that most of the information that crosses between both sides of the Clan pertains to our collective ancient enemies.