You wake up to the sound of traffic. You hear a multitude of cars passing you by at high speeds, and the pounding of relentless wheels against tarmac. You hear rattling of tarp against a metal frame, and you are bouncing along on the rhythm of the road. Your eyes flutter open, but no breath escapes your lips. It is still somewhat disquieting to you, as is the fact that the darkness that surrounds you does little to hamper your vision. After a moment you realize that you are in the back of a large semi-trailer. You are lying on a small cot, one of several bunk beds that are arranged in the space. As you get up, similar shifting movements around you indicate that you are not alone.
Now, the hum of other cars starts to fade. You start hearing the crunching of gravel, and the bouncing increases. The others are by now fully awake. You see about five in total, all roughly your age and looking at each other with faces of confusion. The brakes quietly screech and the whole truck grinds slowly to a halt. A driver gets out, and heavy footfalls approach the trailer doors. With a rattling of metal they are thrown open and moonlight floods in.
“Alright, all of you out”, a heavy voice says. Silhouetted in the moonlight stands an imposing figure. He gestures with his thumb. “Do I need to repeat myself? I said: all of you OUT!”
Hurriedly you all exit the trailer, which you can see is parked at the edge of a wood. At a small distance is a service station on the highway, illuminated by brightly lit signs. The figure briskly steps past you and into the woods. As you all follow he leads you to a burned out campfire a few yards away from the truck. A ring of large logs provide rough seating, and the figure motions you toward them. He himself starts lighting an old gas lantern, and as he places it in the center of the ring you finally get a look at him. He is a large man of African-American descent, tall but wiry, clad in loose dark sweatpants and a stained white tank top that exposes his sinewy arms. He sports a worn red baseball cap and has a trimmed dark beard. He smiles to you all, and you see the thing you were expecting: white fangs poking out between the dark lips.
“So, welcome!”, he says. “As you might’ve noticed, y’all aren’t in your own comfortable havens anymore.” His voice has a slight southern edge to it. “This is because you are all freshly turned, and someone here has to teach you our ways. Normally your Sires would take care of your education, but since there are so many of you they decided to group y’all up together and hand that responsibility to me. You might call this our little bootcamp. This next week will be spent- “
“Excuse me!?” A shrill voice coming from one of the others interrupts. You see a girl whose dark hair falls in long, attractive tresses. “You mean that we’ll spend a week in these damp, nasty woods? Eww, no way. I thought being a vampire was all about glamour, and… and- “
“Well you thought wrong, missy. First of all, you must know that respect is one of the most important things in our society, so you just shut your mouth and don’t interrupt me again. As for my second point, you must learn we are not ‘vampires’. That’s a term used only by mortals and indicates ignorance and stupidity. What’s your name, missy?”
She sits up: “Cassandra Leblanc.”
“Well don’t be so arrogant about it. Whoever you might’ve been in a previous life is dead, and right now you’re nothing more than a fledgeling. Lemme guess, you’re either a Toreador or a Ventrue.”
She looks like she’s about to provide another snarky comment, but one look at the man is enough to change her mind and she says in a small voice: “Toreador.”
“Good thing your Sire at least taught you something. Now,” he says to everyone, “as I was saying before I was interrupted, this week y’all be spending with me. And no,” he pauses and looks at Cassandra, “we will not be spending it at a truck stop on a highway. But this must be a confusing time for you. You must have questions, and before we properly get started you deserve answers. Some of you have been this way for a few weeks now. Some of you only for some days.” He glances at you. “By now you must’ve realized what you are. You are a creature of the night, sustained only by the blood of other living things.”
You shudder. So it’s true then. That stranger really did suck your blood, and did turn you into… into a…
“Who of you can correct the term miss Cassandra used?”
A dark skinned boy, slender and athletic, slowly raises his hand. “Uhm, Kindred?”, he hesitantly asks. His handsome smile shows his own fangs.
“Correct. What’s your name?”
“Martin, sir”
“Well done, Martin. Your clan?”
“Ventrue, sir.”
“Ah, of course. I see you know how things work around here.” He turns to adress everyone again. “Yes, Martin is correct. Kindred is what we call ourselves. However, each of us is unique, and has their own set of skills and abilities. In time you will learn to control them. My name is Cyrus, and this week I’ll teach you all about being one of the Kindred. Now, who’s got a question?”
~~~
Hi everyone!
This is part one of a short story I have had in my head for some time now. It was originally meant as an introduction to the roleplaying game Vampire: the Masquerade, and meant to be used in a one-shot game. However, when I was thinking about what to post this week I just started writing and the story just flowed from there. There is more to be written, and Cyrus and his little troupe of fledgling Kindred will be back next week!
Love,
~ Sanne
(POV: You’re Ava, a fledgling vampire of the Tremere clan.)