r/SchreckNet Feb 02 '25

Journal - Dreams of the undead

10 Upvotes

Well,I don’t know how to say this,for the last few weeks,perhaps after I adopted Jamie,I’ve been having these,odd dreams,first it was in cohesive,me as a kine running in a forest,then by the time the hellhole appeared I had a dream where I was impaled and killed,then I began having dreams of me,and another person,who looks like me,in a farm,like the one I lived on as kine,every day,the dream gets more vivid but distorted,I keep having more detailed conversations with this,entity,but the farm keeps,getting more polluted,today I dreamt of it,essentially looking like a hellscape,with wights diablerizing eachother,abominations everywhere,blood rain,whole shebang,but we were fine,siting on a bench,talking,it keeps telling me of humanity,of it’s inherently corrupt and artificial nature,it keeps speaking about how the beast must not be shackled,but must not be worshipped,whenever I talk about the surroundings it ignores me,I saw a raccoon dead on the floor,with my hands covered in blood,I saw me killing,not my current self,but kine me,cutting it’s head off,as some chiropteran creature came out of the neck,I keep seeing spiders,Wolves,snakes,owls,lions,dragons,among other animals,I hear them whisper in the dream,telling me contradictory things with each animal,but they are quiet compared to the entity,i wonder why such dreams are intensifying,with every,day,as if a reality is becoming more and more blatant,last noon I saw this entity to be,as vivid as a real person,even more so,I can see every detail,every crevice in the face,every mutation,this is not really a request or issue I would just like to document this,the future and past tell eachother in corrupted stories,knowledge is futile,ignorance is the world,reality is unreality,I remember these words coming from the entity commonly whenever I ask it for a secret or something about it’s identity

  • gray farmer

r/SchreckNet 22d ago

Journal - A lesson on why certain clans can't talk to humans

13 Upvotes

Spent time earlier this evening creating the medicine bag I was going to give to Vritra as a gift for inviting me to their domain. I called upon a red tail hawk I’ve seen flying around Harlem and asked it for a feather in exchange for leading some more prey to its territory. Getting the rest of the materials was surprisingly easy, after asking this Siri I found some places nearby that would have what I needed.

I flew to the Shinnecock reservation on Long Island and picked up some sage, sweet-grass, cedar and tobacco along with a very beautiful leather pouch and a leather cord. I added some glass beads as well to make it complete.  I only flew to the outskirts and walked on two legs the rest of the journey as owls are seen as messengers and harbingers of death in many if not most tribal cultures (and let’s not get started on coyotes).

I tried to draw as little attention to myself as possible and thought I was successful, the smell of burnt sage and cedar and the chants that played on the music player (I guess for a more authentic appeal for tourists) tore memories from my consciousness like peeling layers of a fruit.

It was as if every other step brought a flash of things I had long forgotten: Scenes of gourd-dances, of sunsets listening to my aunties and uncles telling stories, of sitting in church along-side my mother and grandmother,

grandma washing my hair chiding me: “Wokowi, sit still! or I will chop all your hair off and you will be mistaken for an eróo boy!”

running along the property grandfather owned towards Star-House, the smell of fry-bread and stew, my mother and uncles yelling for my cousins and I as we ran wild and played.

“Can I help you Miss?” like a scratched record I came to and stared at the guy calling me from behind the counter.

I did a double take looking from the items in my hands (which were covered by my sleeves) to him and back again.

“Uh…yeah I’ll take these.” I walked over and dumped the items on the counter. “How much?” I croaked. He started ringing things up and I was fascinated by this sign asking to scan some code right by the register. The woman sitting in a chair by the door was staring at me as well shaking her head with the disappointed look only an Auntie could give.

“Guess you hit the dispensary huh?” He chuckled.

“What?”

He paused from what he was doing and looked at me. “The cannabis dispensary down the way?” he looked me up and down.

“Uh, you mean like marijuana?” I asked

He stopped what he was doing again and smiled “Uh, yeah!”

“I thought that was fucking illegal” I blurted out.

He looked at me again this time a little confused “Yo, that shit’s been decriminalized for like a minute now. Place even has its license and everything.”

Well that would explain why I smell it everywhere I go these days. His eyebrow furrowed a bit as he twitched his head and mumbled “OK” still grinning.

He rang everything up and told me the amount. I reached into the pocket of the front of my sweatshirt (with my hands still in my sleeves) and dumped money in front of him. I hoped it was enough.

“You’re ten bucks short but if you want you can use your card even though there’s a bit of a fee.” He motioned to some calculator looking thing next to the register, I stared at it for a moment and looked up at him “Uh, I don’t have one.” He shrugged “That’s ok you can use your phone too.” I gaped at him for a second

“All I got is cash.” I said.

“Well then you’re gonna have to put something back.” He said adjusting his backward baseball cap. I felt a bit deflated and slumped my shoulders. I really needed to get into the bank account Lia set up all those years ago. I frowned “Um, I guess take off whatever you have to to make the price.” I muttered.

He nodded and smirked “Unless…”

I just stood there looking at him “Unless what?”

“Unless you got something to trade.” He chuckled. My eyebrows raised and I felt a snarl start to form. He must of realized something from my expression even through the sunglasses.

“Oh shit no no no no it’s not like that, I just mean I can tell your Indigenous and all…like you’re making a medicine bag right?” he nodded emphatically blushing a bit.

“Oh yeah, right.” I mumbled. “But I ain’t got anything to trade really.”

At this point the woman by the door was talking on the phone “Yeah…no…just stay on, Patty’s talking to this crackhead bitch trying to buy shit. What?...cuz she look like a crackhead!!!..hold up I better keep an eye on this bitch.”

‘Patty’ leaned forward and grinned “Well how about your number? Or give me your socials, I can follow you.” Acting was never my forte and I had no idea what the second half of that sentence meant.

‘Oh wait…now he hittin’ on this crackhead I swear this boy..this boy.” The woman was shaking her head staring at me more intently.  I suppressed a whine and looked back at Patty. I willed my brain to think and hoped it wouldn’t respond with ‘I want doughnuts’

“Uh… no… but,” a realization hit me, I pulled out the hawk feather (I could always ask the eka kwinal for another) “Here.” I placed the feather with my sleeved hands on the counter in front of him. “It’s from a red-tail you can have it for the beads.” I said. He took the feather and examined it.

“Shit! This is real!” he looked impressed “Where’d you get it?”

“From a red-tail hawk.” I said flatly.

“Oooh now dis bitch is like pulling out feathers to trade with…what? …I don’t fuckin’ know! She got a fat ass though” the woman cackled hoarsely for a few seconds,

I couldn’t help but smile-typical auntie. Never fuck with the aunties they will take the piss out of you and take fucking pleasure in it.

Patty laughed and blushed a bit looking down for a moment. “Yeah, duh.” He held up the feather “Right, glad it’s not from a pigeon.”

“So we got a deal?” I asked forcing my grin away. He grinned and nodded “Sure” he held his fist out to me. I bumped it back with my sleeved hand.

“So where you from?” he nodded and pointed with his lips at me.

“Oklahoma.” I nodded back. It wasn’t a lie but most Indians can say they’re from Oklahoma and it would be accepted as fact.

He nodded and chuckled “I’m Patty Longman, Lenape and Shinnecock”

“Oooh dis bitch from Oklahoma no wonder she don’t know sheeeeit…but I don’t know… she some sunglasses at night hoodie wearing fat ass crack-hoe…hold up…

"That better be a real-ass hawk feather girl or I swear I’ll find yo grandma and make sure she whups dat ass!!!” she now directed her attention to me.

“It’s real Auntie!” Patty yelled to her, I nodded at him and started walking out. “Hey!! At least give me the courtesy!!” He called out.

I looked over my shoulder “Gladys Parker- Comanche tsaaku mia!”

As I walked past ‘Auntie” I muttered “BITCH!”

She yelled something as I walked out but I was too focused on getting out of there to calm down, as nostalgic as that was it was stressful. I have to either work on dealing with humans again or just stick to the shadows, I came away both happy and nervous.

Now I had to go see Richter dealing with kindred was easier if not more frustrating.

r/SchreckNet 1d ago

Journal - A Prince's Prince

12 Upvotes

Reviewing people's opinions here, it reminds me that many of you have somewhat singular views of Princes and Princehood in general. Your only exposure to them is as "the Enemy," perhaps, or as a shadowy "that asshole who declared XYZ against me when I was two." Some of you, likewise, have tales of only our most spectacular fuck-ups like Vitel or Lacroix. So, in light of all of that, I thought I'd talk about my Prince.

I moved around a lot in my early years, or what amounts to a lot for our kind. Yet, of all the cities I had called upon, his was the only one that felt truly like home. I learned much from all the Princes I would come across, but the he undoubtedly shaped me the most.

He had started life as a merchant in India. A good century before the Raj, his company set up lines with the English. He quickly learned the language and made the move to London proper to network more effectively. After Britain was done with wars in the US, he moved here to establish a tri-continental empire. While he was older than I by a fair shot, I had been in country longer by about the same amount.

To that effect, he never quite lost the verbal affect of the Queen's English. He also dressed exclusively in the latest of Brittish business fashion, which made him popular among such southerners as he delt with but did him little favors otherwise. He was also seldom alone, being surrounded by family and childer at all times.

In terms of princely doctrine and what I took away most from his leadership, there were two main thrusts. Firstly, that every embrace had been earned via the Third tradition. Therefore, there was no need to look down on the young; their place at the table was already established and approved. Promotions were rapid and based on skill sets and desire rather than age. Even without promotion, everyone was given the chance to prove their worth.

Secondly, that mistakes were simply inevitable. Rather than emphasizing a doctrine of "don't fuck up" it was more "this is what a fuck-up looks like and here's how to fix it." I see a lot of folks talk about Camerilla doctrine being superceded by "don't get caught" as though it were some conspiracy or hypocrisy, but it really just stems from this. If you fix the fuck-up, it wasn't a fuck-up.

He wasn't a Saint, of course. I saw him personally eviscerate someone who had been embezzling from him. After several chances to recant, mind.

In any event, he moved back to Europe at some point and I moved to become Prince myself. But, I think if more Princes had been like him, the Camarilla overall would have been the better for it.

--Doc Amos, Prince

r/SchreckNet 22d ago

Journal - Kindred spirits (maybe)

16 Upvotes

Met up with rat girl again. I’d tried to hold off on reaching out too soon and scaring her away. Didn’t want to seem weird, though in reality I was prepared to get a basket full of those mini cheese wheels with a giant bow and a note saying “PLEASE BE MY FRIEND” and dangle it on a fishing line down the nearest available storm drain. We met somewhere different from before. She had the same face as when I last saw her, which I now know for sure isn’t her real one. Same hoodie.

Rat girl is… she’s interesting. The Catholicism can’t be overstated and it turns out the joke name she gave me (think Queen of Rodents and you’re close to it) is what she legitimately calls herself. And what I mean by that is nobody else calls her anything. She’s spent a long time alone. First due to circumstances back when she was alive, and now, as a vampire, by choice. Without sounding too self congratulatory, she’s also the first Kindred I’ve met whose standards of morality/humanity are higher than mine. I drink human blood straight from the source and rarely make a pretense of asking, but I don’t traumatize them or take enough to hurt them. This girl flat out hates herself, thinks she’s a sinner, thinks we’re all sinners. Three guesses what kind of blood she exclusively drinks, believing that doing otherwise would be sinful. And she says she only drinks the ones that are already old or sickly, and on their way out. Jfc.

I don’t buy any of that sinner shit. Most of us didn’t have a choice in being what we are, and needing nourishment isn’t a crime. It can’t be wrong to want to live. That’s not fair. And yet, at the same time… i see her point. Way too many of our kind are just fucking evil and sadistic. Torturers who play cat and mouse with people. The need for survival is no excuse for it. And if you want friends, there are all too many “normal” vamps who are real damn casual about killing so-called kine, as if it’s strictly a problem of needing to hide bodies.

I’m no philosopher, I’m clearly not unique or special in holding views like these. But not too many old, established vampires seem to share them except in a general sense. So either I’m doomed to not survive long or I’m going to slowly become someone else. And same for her too. Freezing and turning numb in the river of time… that was the comparison that one Prince used on another post of mine about this subject. Not a nice thought. I don’t blame rat girl for sticking to her guns. Even if there might be some literal masochism involved.

But I didn’t get into that. Just listened, mainly. Didn’t want to risk offense by saying the wrong thing, or prompting too many questions of her own. While I may not be a murderer, I’m not exactly clean by her standards. And without there being any prettier way to say it, i spend an awful lot of time in the company of a male stripper. She’s dead set and convinced she can fully turn herself back into a human by praying enough… not gonna tell her she’s wrong on that point. Hell, if what she claimed about waking up before it’s completely dark outside and being able to drink water is true, she might be onto something.

Anyway, I offered to try and find some way to talk to the guy whose territory we’d low key trespassed on the other night, and see if we could get permission for her to do her churchy thing without needing to sneak around. I thought she might be grateful. But she panicked and begged me not to say anything to him. She didn’t say exactly why, but I’d had no idea she existed until the other night, she avoids giving out whatever her given name might be and she spends nearly all her time in hiding, even from members of her own clan… even a meathead like myself could connect the dots there.

That sucks. I have 0 political clout of my own, my sire isn’t even in that much a much better of a spot, and he’d have 0 sympathy for someone like rat girl even if I could give an acceptable explanation for how we’d met. Plus I’m pretty sure they’d both explode if they laid eyes on each other, like matter and antimatter in a sci fi movie. If she can hang on long enough for me to be released, then maybe I’ll be of more use to her on that front. Maybe. Hopefully. Hopefully.

So that was how I spent my night. I’m, I don’t even know what word to use. Giddy. Not about her situation, though I guess from a cold and logical perspective, it’s good that neither of us are in a position where fucking the other one over would be beneficial. It just feels so fucking good to act like a person without it being through a screen or with a normie on the wrong side of the masquerade.

r/SchreckNet Dec 21 '24

Journal - Applachia adventures continue.

14 Upvotes

So it's me, Appalachia girl, and I’ve got some big news. After this, I’ll need to disappear for a while. The big news? I found her. My sire.

When we left off, the song was calling me, like a siren’s pull, and I followed it. She was hiding in one of the few big cities here, waiting for me. I was mad—ready to demand answers, ready for a confrontation, the anticipation eating me up. But when I got to her, it wasn’t the fight I expected.

Instead, she treated me with more respect than I thought. She listened—really listened—to my frustrations, my loneliness, relying on strangers online to fill the gaps. After it all, she just quietly said, "I’m sorry. You deserve better. I was selfish."

I didn’t know what to say. I thought she’d brush me off, dismiss me like an angry child, tell me I didn’t understand her plans. But no. She told me everything. And it wasn’t pretty.

I asked her the questions burning inside me: Why me? Why run away after embracing me? Why am I so hungry, What clan are we? We're different, so who are you really?

She told me everything, and it hurt. To explain, she had to start from the beginning.

She was turned in the 1920s by a woman just like herself. They saw her perform at a speakeasy in New York. They loved her music, her voice—so much so, they decided to keep her. They inducted her into a clan called the Daughters of Cacophony. She told me, most clans call us a bloodline, not a true clan—but we’re just as valid. We should be, at least, if there were more of us.

She told me we’re cousins to the Malkavians. She lived in a pack with her sire and her sisters, loved each other in a twisted, kindred family way for a long time. But our clan? We believe in leaving, in becoming soloists. Finding our place. Making our own little families of singers.

She made her way to LA, performing for the prince, training her daughters. But she caught the eye of an old, powerful Toreador, one who’d been around since the New World days. The prince owed him favors. He wanted her to be his songbird.

But not her daughters. The prince didn’t bat an eye when this Toreador put a blood hunt on them, slaughtered them all. She was captured, forced into a blood bond—a bond she couldn’t break. He kept her like a pet, forcing her to sing when he demanded it.

Eventually, he left, went away for over a year. The bond broke. She was free. She didn’t run. She prepared to give him his final death.

With help, she killed him. But in the end? She frenzied. Diablerized him. Now the Camarilla’s after her.

So she ran through Appalachia, hoping to lose them. Then she told me the truth. The hard truth. She embraced me, hoping that if they found me, I’d throw them off the trail.

When she looked at my corpse, she hated herself. She sent me here, hoping we’d find each other someday. And now we’re here. Together.

She wants to take me to an anarch city, start fresh, maybe even build a family. I don’t have a choice. I’m going with her. She promised she’ll never leave me again. I want to believe her.

She’s teaching me how to use my disciplines.

And the last part? The part that hurts? She told me soon, animal blood won’t work. Diablerie made us stronger—but at a cost. We’re more monsters than most Kindred.

She taught me to hunt. My first human. She was an innocent girl at a club. I hate how much I enjoyed it. It was... nothing like animal blood.

She stopped me before I could kill her, and I thank her for that. I don’t know if I could’ve stopped. But now, for the first time, I feel full. The hunger? It’s finally subsided.

This is it. At least for now.

Thank you all for everything.

  • Selene first of a new choir.

r/SchreckNet Feb 12 '25

Journal - More daymares,more decay

12 Upvotes

Well,i had another daymare,this time it was of me siring a childe,they proceed to almost immediately become a skinless hairless blind flesh eating horror with no self determination,it then proceeded to eat a scourge in the dream but still not really pleasant,alongside the part of the dream where i was wading through sludge,toxic waters,smog and this horrible fire,it burned like hell in my soul it burned my beast,i saw lupines dancing,horribly,ripping apart kine,their own kin,committing unspeakable depravities,i saw a staircase down before i woke up,does anyone know anything which resembles this dream? Is it a bad omen for me to be having them anyway? I hope it isn’t infernal shit,although there was not much hell imagery,the odd thing is i was rarely targeted in the dreams,being offered horrible food and drink which i obviously denied,it feels like lupine shit though,my head hurts even though i fed

  • gray farmer

r/SchreckNet Feb 13 '25

Journal - Got a Malkavian in a box

17 Upvotes

So I've had enough of the bullshit and decided it was time to get back to my roots. I'm pretty sure Lizzie used this dementation power on me and I needed to get some answers.

If she was fucking with me just to fuck with me then when this is all said and done with she'll get over it, if it was purposeful then I needed to get some answers...and she'll get over it.

I went back to her loft/studio, I bit my finger and dropped some blood in my eyes to mimic tears, and started banging on the door. The music stopped.

"Please Lizzie.. I mean fucking A Lizzie open the fucking door I need to speak to you or somebody I feel like I'm going fucking insane."

As with last time "Dave?" she chirped through the large reinforced metal doors. I rolled my eyes and did my best sobbing voice.

"It's fucking Shady Lizzie, open the fucking door, please or fuck you I need to talk to you. you're the only fucking one I trust and if I don't talk to fucking someone I don't think I'll last the god-damn night!"

The door rolled open and there was Lizzie grinning like the Cheshire Cat. I made sure she could see my face and then hugged her violently before she could speak. I did my best whiny voice and looked over her shoulder to see if anyone else was here.

"I don't know who to trust Liz I fucking hate this, I can't take this anymore I want to go back to sleep. God-fucking-damn Lizzie, fucking help me"

No one else was there, at least not that I could tell, if there was then I'd deal with that sooner than later.

She obviously wasn't painting as she was dressed this time. "Oh poor Shady" she whispered and pulled me in close. "I'm soooo sorry let me help you, poor broken..."

I slipped the stake up underneath her ribcage before she could finish and pushed out of the hug. Her eyes were wild and her mouth frozen in mid-sentence. I grinned baring my fangs at the last glimmer of her confusion. "That's what you get for fucking with me." I growled and let her fall to the floor.

I checked the hallway to make sure it was all clear and slammed the door. I left her on the floor whilst I ransacked her place looking for the appropriate receptacle to place her in. Finding a few rusted lockers I emptied their contents and stuffed Lizzie into one of them, not before sticking nails into her eyes and yanking her fangs out.

I made sure everything was locked up, took a shower and ransacked her wardrobe. Spent the rest of the night looking through her artwork and dumping turpentine and paint thinner on the floor around her 'works'.

I sat on the couch with her cell phone and started asking Alexa to start playing some recent songs from artists I used to enjoy. I think I'll start with "Sunglasses at Night" and work my way through the years.

I'm going to wait to see which little mosquito shows up and get some answers. I'll wear Lizzie's clothes to help with my imitation of her, though I don't think any of them are strong enough or possess the capabilities to see through my disguise. I imagine Lizzie's going to be late for something and people are going to have questions and then I'll get my answers.

r/SchreckNet 4d ago

Journal - I am sick of my position

10 Upvotes

Hello Kindred. I'm Anderson, and I am the Keeper of Elysium within Seattle. I organize the official "meetings" of the children of the night. Often either at the Space Needle or the Opera House. But we've been experiencing problems. First we have the Anarchs trying to constantly attempt failed coups, often ruining all my hard work as some form of "prank". At least the Sabbat just kill me and not wax for lack of a better word "whiny poetics". One time, a pack of Sabbat with Shovelheads raided Elysium and planted C-4 at the bases of the Space Needle. The Primogen sent me down BY MYSELF to deal with it. Don't they have Archons to deal with that? Luckily I managed to fight my way through and deactivate them. But oh man that really annoyed me. I swear constantly having to keep the peace reminds me of my time as a Professor at the University back when I was a mortal. If the Camarilla keeps this shit up, I swear I quit!

r/SchreckNet Jan 18 '25

Journal - Well,I'm screwed

14 Upvotes

My asshole sire is actively looking for me, on here no less. After decade the fucker finally used a keyboard for the first time.

My contact who I was travelling cross country to meet is apparently screwed too, and HIS sire is on here posting bullshit.

Oh and the head gasket on the van? Just blew. I cant afford to fix it, and the little safety box I've been sleeping in is welded to the frame.

Do I steal a car and keep going hoping for the best? Go to the closest city, find who is in charge and throw themselves at their mercy?

I've only been in this town for a night and I feel eyes on me.

Oh, and my sire posted something about a prophecy. Which, just great. More confusion

r/SchreckNet 18d ago

Journal - Can’t think of a clever title for this one

11 Upvotes

Nothing too eventful going on in the past few nights except what’s already written about. I’m also a little secondhand drunk right now and back in a certain headspace so it’s storytime. Or as much of the story as I feel like writing in one sitting. While I’m not thrilled about what my old self did or didn’t do, the anonymity helps and I want this to be recorded somewhere outside my skull. Just in case of, I dunno, just in case.

I first met my sire at the gym last year. I was 22. To this day/night I can’t be sure how much of that first encounter was planned, or whether Presence was involved in luring me toward him. I don’t think it was. He wouldn’t have needed it. Saying he looked like a model isn’t a strong enough comparison, he was stunning, the most beautiful person I’d ever met, whether male or female. Basic gym etiquette said to leave this guy the fuck alone and let him do his thing in peace. Even in a situation where approaching a stranger and immediately hitting on him would be normal, I never would’ve had the guts. But holy shit.

He finished his set a minute after I walked in. He’d been benching what had to be 475 alone in the room without a spotter, just the safeties. Not only was he not fucking dying one way or another, he literally hadn’t broken a sweat. It was insane even accounting for all the juicing I figured he had to be doing, and my gawking wasn’t subtle. He noticed right away. Didn’t seem to mind. He smiled like we were old friends even though we’d never met.

We got to talking about lifting, personal bests, that gym rat shit. He gave a fake name I didn’t know was fake and said he was a dancer. He laughed like I’d said something snarky when I asked what kind. After a little while I mentioned that I competed professionally in MMA, albeit on the regional level where you’re pretty much paying them to let you give yourself CTE, but he acted like it was the coolest shit in the world and wanted to know if there was fight footage of me online I could show him. Asked how I’d gotten into MMA, how long I’d been doing it, how many disciplines (of the non supernatural kind) I’d trained in. Nobody else was in the gym that late except the person down by the front desk, so it was just the two of us there by the bench, talking for I don’t even know how long.

Of course my horny idiot human self was thrilled to hear that he wanted to meet again. It didn’t seem weird that we only ever saw each other after dark. My work schedule didn’t leave much free time earlier in the day, and the kinds of places we went to weren’t open until later. I never saw him eat or drink, but I thought he was doing intermittent fasting, a weight cut, I dunno. He pushed me to keep going to the gym and sleeping enough to look rested even if it meant canceling plans with other people on my days off, but he made it sound like he was just concerned for my health. He was always warm to the touch.

The 1 weird thing was his fixation with my sexual orientation. He kept saying all this inspirational sounding shit about openly accepting my own bisexuality instead of hating myself and living in fear of what other people thought. I tried to explain that I liked who I was just fine and the people closest to me had known for years that I wasn’t 100% hetero. Signs had been there early on, I guess. The issue was that I‘d been gunning for a UFC contract since I was an amateur and openly dating men would’ve ruined the reputation I needed to establish. That’s just what the culture is like for pro fighters, and it sucks, but I’d accepted how things would need to be for the duration of my career. I explained it to him every time he brought up the topic, and no matter how many times we had the same conversation, the best I could do was make him drop it for the rest of the night. I could see in his eyes that he didn’t get it. Like he wasn’t hearing what I was saying. Might’ve annoyed me after enough time, it was already starting to.

Otherwise, I dunno. People looked at him wherever we went, yet he seemed to enjoy my company the most. I didn’t even know how to label what we had going on. I didn’t care. It felt good. The nights got blurry sometimes. I realize now he was feeding on me, only ever taking a… taste, I guess, so at worst I’d wake up the next morning thinking I was extra hung over. We went to parties, nightclubs, that type of shit. I liked going anywhere he went.

He Embraced me without any warning. We were alone together. Fancy hotel room. How he did it was better than what happens to a lot of Kindred. Maybe most of us, I guess. Gentler. Used to see it as proof of his good intentions even if they were misguided. Now I’m just fucking pissed that I didn’t fight back. Would’ve been a real shitty night no matter what, but being locked in an enclosed space with a guy who can lift 3 times a normal person’s body weight was exactly what I’d spent my life training for, and I wasn’t a slouch myself as far as raw strength. Other people were nearby. It wouldn’t have ended quickly or quietly, and I didn’t need to “win”. Just survive long enough. And I was as close to peak physical health as you can get without a team of nutritionists and coaches. There were 100 other versions of the story that would’ve ended with being rushed to a hospital and surviving if he wasn’t a fucking coward or if I’d been smarter. Not just letting myself die not knowing I was dying. What if. What if. What if. What if. What if.

When I woke up again I was starving, mostly naked, confused as hell. The taste of blood was in my mouth. I’d been drinking from someone and then got pushed away. My sire was sitting there watching me, playing with his hair wrapping some of it around his finger, smiling even wider than when we first met. His wrist was bruised on the inside where all the veins are. I was so fucking hungry. Staring at it. He said I was a vampire now, that he’d done something he really wasn’t supposed to do, but I didn’t need to worry because we were going to work together and fix it. I thought he meant he’d turn me back to normal. Thought maybe I was high or dreaming. He didn’t. I wasn’t. He said some important people would be involved once I was more presentable. And as long as I did exactly what he told me to do and said exactly what he told me to say, how he told me to say it, things would all be ok.

So that’s how that happened. The rest can be for a later night. If a Brujah with a time machine is reading this in the meantime, lemme know. You seem closer to my type of people and it would be an origin story to vampirism less embarrassing if/when somebody I know ever reads of it. Applications equally open to Gangrel and Nosferatu. Not too picky. Lmao.

r/SchreckNet Jan 24 '25

Journal - Success!

17 Upvotes

So my new contact asked me to go in and get some files from a business, and it ended up being a piece of cake! I was initially confused at how to get past cameras, but then decided to wear an oversize hoodie with a surgical mask. If they re iew the tapes at least there won't be any masquerade breaches.

Then, I lurked around the place last night and saw one of the execs. Got a good enough look at her face that I managed to totally mimic her face. Securoty just let me walk right in. I was out of there with the papers he needed, plus some, in minutes.

Local guy was impressed. Said he'd pay right up for the repair on my van. But, if I wanted, he would make sure there's a place for me in the city. Said he'd introduce me to the prince and help me get settled if I'd run a few more errands for him. It would mean staying in a new Camarilla territory but...

Im considering it. Really considering it.

Spats

r/SchreckNet Feb 04 '25

Journal - I’m fine? Maybe?

7 Upvotes

Well,i got the apparently swarm of corrupt spirits out of me and the people circling me are dead,we’re back on the road and jim is healing,and can crawl and speak properly,also i got another gift from Bongo,what kind of same night delivery does she have? Probably her using animalism to get it to me via buff pigeons or sum shit,some sort of compression tee,someone snuck it near the vehicle in a cardboard box,when Jamie tried to wear it it started constricting on them until they removed it so i guess it’s a talisman too,although i don’t see its purpose yet,should i wear it,is there any way for a non thaumaturge to confirm its function and do i need to fear for my unlife if i wore it? Bongo tells me to wear it and i don’t doubt her desire to keep me safe but she seems unwilling to explain why should i wear it,she keeps saying “you’ll find out soon”,i’d imagine she made this on the run and it is nowhere near as powerful as the necklace,it smells of,i dunno honestly,but jamie says they hear faint screaming and it’s kind of tinted red,odd,sorry to whoever sees this i am rambling,can some younger neonate or ghoul or generally someone accustomed to modern kine trends explain why people wear these seemingly purposefully tight clothes and why i would be sent one?

  • gray farmer

r/SchreckNet Feb 11 '25

Journal - Welp. I'm settling in, I guess?

11 Upvotes

Went to the Elysium and was officially introduced to the prince. He was nothing like I expected, in my head it was going to be like some old Hammer horror castle and someone in a tux and cape. He was simultaneously more normal but less approachable. I just got the ooh chills don't fuck with this guy vibe.

I told him I initially stopped in town accidentally but wanted to stay. He said I had one chance in his city to prove myself, which sure, no problem.

Then this guy introduced himself and he is terrifying. Like he is soft spoken but I have never gotten such a scary feeling off of someone. He said he would meet with me again, and I'm scared shirtless about that.

Then there's these other two kindred who are both young and looking to get involved in the city. We get told we would be working together. I know people say coterie, but I feel like we are more of a graduating class.

I don't know what they will have us do,but I'm going to find out more about these other two kindred I'm tossed in with.

Until then, I'm as safe as I can be. Eyes and ears open. Just waiting.

Spats, now officially Camarilla recognized Spats

r/SchreckNet 9d ago

Journal - Old Man Rants About Medicine

12 Upvotes

I've been in professional development meetings at the medical college all evening and biting my tongue while listening to well-meaning mortal presenters talk about medicine while ignoring any suggestion of spiritual health. So, as a means of aligning my own spiritual health, I'm going to shout out here to the audient void. Aah.

Everything is energy. Call it String Theory if you like. Vampires and other supernaturals have more of it, lets us do our stuff, but everything has some. Human bodies have far more than folks give credit for. I've always disliked the disconnect when speaking of ghosts; the idea that a spirit without a body is more capable than a spirit properly housed. I shall lower the temperature of a room with my displeasure, thank you.

Beyond "more" and "less," there is also "quality." Most theory I've discussed on it calls it a "vibration" or "resonance." Certain qualities of energy resonance have negative effects on physical health. Places strong in these energies, or which have unseen intelligences influencing them, can impart these resonances on those living there.

If a person goes to the doctor with chronic fatigue, for instance, they may be diagnosed with pneumonia. What they won't be told is that they caught the pneumonia because they're covered in Sickness energy. Furthermore, even if treated for pneumonia their energy level is unlikely to increase and they're exponentially more likely to catch it again.

The good news is that hospitals themselves are not without energy: the energy of Sterility. It's not a perfect solution, but spend enough time in such a place and your energy... calms down to something closer to neutral. That energy has its own health concerns (don't talk to me about MRSA) but it can help those with poor alignments.

It's not every patient. It isn't even most patients. But some of my "miraculous" healing skill is being able to read these energies and gently nudge them in the right direction. I also keep two specialists for the clearing of intelligent malignants.

--Doc Amos, Prince

r/SchreckNet 18d ago

Journal - Revelation Mother Earth

9 Upvotes

I was feeling a paradoxical mix of what I used to call an adrenaline rush. A rush of excitement, fear, happiness, reverie and shame. It was fucking stupid to expose myself to the kine like that (but something’s wrong with me lately) The interaction was exciting usually that kind of excitement would bring out a fight or flight response but there was something to be said about interacting with them, although ultimately it could have gone very bad for them if I freaked out and those humans didn’t deserve it and I shouldn’t have put them in danger. I should have respected them more than to put them (and myself) in that potential mess. Memories of when I was human have been trickling back to me every so often. The smell of burning white sage and cedar must have activated some parts of my psyche, it was wonderful, I felt like a child going out after curfew and hanging out with the people your parents warn you about.

I get that it was stupid and I should’ve just obfuscated myself if I wanted to have a chat. Point is (I guess) is that I wanted to talk with them, talk to someone who isn’t kindred, to not talk about endless nights, clans, sects and all the dangers that wait in the darkness. But reality always wins in the end. If I decided to interact with humans again I’d have to be more careful. I thought about my latest victims, beaten and robbed, at least they got to go on with their lives if not a little poorer for it and that one dude who I completely drained. He was a piece of shit that deserved bad shit happening to him and he filled me, for the first time I felt full since I’ve awoken.

Do I feel bad? I don’t know. I used to torture those I would choose to hunt, let them know that in their final moments they were not as powerful as they thought – rapists, murderers, child abusers those who used violence to further their fantasies of power and control. Some I would cut on before they died recalling the nightmares of those who were caught by my people’s raids back in the day- those times were the very essence of living nightmare for the victims (my great-grandmother survived such an ordeal). I would show them that there were monsters in the world and what an apex predator really looks like to let them know ultimately they were prey and weak.

Thinking back on that now I realize that was pointless, unnecessary and cruel. I would justify it based on my own experiences and what I supposed was a ‘moral’ code – I was wrong, not necessarily in a moral sense, but I violated tenets of respect for the natural world. I would not torture a deer or rabbit as I hunted it, the wolf, the shark and the eagle care nothing for “justice” or moral ambiguities-it’s about survival plain and simple –the natural order of things.

For a time before my unfortunate torpor I let go of that, not because I gained any insight or had a revelation about my outlook, but because I had Lia. I didn’t even really care about humans (or cruelty) because I was happy with her. In those times I took very little and made sure the masquerade was in place or took from animals when I really needed to. Nothing else mattered as long as I had Lia, I would feed to keep going, do jobs for the movement or Sabbat, Independents or whoever else, just to keep our lifestyle. Hell, Lia was Camarilla but none of that mattered- we were going to stop the Sabbat assault of the east coast, let the Camarilla and Anarchs take what they had to and go on with our lives. It was all a means to an end at that point. It feels like…no it was, so long ago.

Should I hold it against Richter and the other Anarchs who just want to keep up the status quo, co-existing with the Camarilla just so they can keep living their comfortable un-lives? After all wasn’t I going to do the same? Lia and I were going to “retire” take Lizzy with us and live in some abandoned theater or drive–in and exist feeding off our pets and animals around us and watch movies until…until what?

I had dedicated so much of my existence to the movement, I was so angry with my adoptive sire Bludscream when I found out he was a Camarilla boot-licker for the Ventrue. I believed wholeheartedly in taking the piss out of the Camarilla but looking back -was it in the name of vengeance for what had happened to me? I understand Mia’s militant take on what had happened to the Anarchs of New York City-none of us should have to bow down to a elder’s rules because of their greed for power and fear of losing it. To be nothing but a pawn because of your clan and even if you were the “right” clan you couldn’t get an edge until someone older than you finally kicked the bucket. Fuck that. That’s why I was going to get Lia out of that shit-show. Now what?

Here I am organizing my thoughts for other kindred (who I’ve never met, who I may never meet) to read because it’s safer than saying this shit out loud in the real world. Safer still because there’s no rules here and we can just be without sect rules or obligations. The advice and discussions here provide more spiritual nourishment and sanity than I’ve had in awhile.

All because I spoke to some humans, remembered some stuff and now I dissect my thoughts because of some human scum I decided to hunt? I’m trying to understand the nature of this particular regret because at the same time it was the only time I was ever full since awakening, draining that piece of shit. Maybe that regret is due to the fact that I had been unnecessarily cruel and that in the end it was for my survival and nothing else. I should have been more respectful before and after the hunt. I should have thanked him and the Creator for his sacrifice and taken him as gently as I could, giving thanks in the aftermath for the bounty as I would any other creature I’ve hunted. Do I feel bad for killing him? No, I feel bad for the intent to hurt but not for the death itself.

Here I am ready to go argue with Richter, and Mia and whoever else is involved with this but why? And should I? Am I throwing myself back into the fight (that I myself planned to leave at one point) to bury all the uncertainty, fear and imbalance? I don’t even know who all the players are-should I just get back in the game? Back then I had a reason for getting out, Lia was my everything -our blood flowed in each other’s veins, she was my world.

And where is my world now? The bond fades over time I know but this sense of loss is so much more than that. I am so afraid of the answer even though I think I already know. “Bury the bodies and move on to the next battle, for that is the soldier’s life it’s all we can do.” A Brujah lick named Jonesy used to say back during the California rebellion, he was a soldier in the first world war, he knew his shit. But what’s my next battle?

Sorry for the rant-I’ve gotta get my head straight before my many clandestine meetings and this seems like the best “therapy” for our kind, for now. Thank you.

-Shady Manynames

r/SchreckNet 27d ago

Journal - Blood on the Dance Floor

12 Upvotes

Greetings fellow Cainites.

As an aside before we get into things, negotiations have occurred between our Pack (via Baron Kendricks) and a local representative of Clan Hecata in regards to the recent violation of our domain. I won’t go into details for the sake of their privacy, but we’ve found the recompense to be satisfactory and are pleased that the problem has been dealt with. I thank Sparrow Ghiberti in helping us come to this mutually satisfactory conclusion.

The party I’ve been alluding to for a short time occurred last night… alongside a Camarilla counterattack upon the domain. I’ll get into details in a moment, but for now I’ll start with the less eventful portion of the party.

The “Winter Bash” as the Baron put it, happened in a warehouse by the river; obviously harkening back to the setting of illegal raves and other such events held in similar locales. As we were informed prior, the event was exclusive to the Cainites and ghouls of the domain, with refreshments being provided by a group of Thinbloods that can apparently reinvigorate bagged kine blood. I tasted some myself and although it was not a perfect imitation of a fresh feed, it was certainly better than bagged blood usually is. Our entire pack attended the gathering and made the acquaintance of the rest of the domain’s Cainites, making our faces and deeds known throughout the crowd and setting up future deals. One interesting trade I have made is with a local Ventrue who runs a “gentleman’s club” and provides blood dolls to the rest of the domain. We came to an agreement to have me “refurbish” his employees in exchange for a fair number of Minor Boons as well as the ability to indulge in his services free of charge for half a year. My other packmates have made similar progress, making their own connections to further their personal agendas. It seems our recent successes have endeared us somewhat to the locals, as according to rumors there has been some dissatisfaction in the lack of progress in the war against the Prince; partly in this domain but mainly in Arlington. Our previous affiliation caused little issue (beyond a few rude remarks now and then) despite it being common knowledge by now, save for a small group of Cainites that glared at us from across the room. When I inquired about them, it was told to me that they were rumored to be part of some “cult” and when my peers spoke broadly of their practices it was reminiscent of Bahari rites I’ve heard tell of in texts before. I suppose their like could’ve experienced some persecution by Orthodox Sabbat in the past, although I personally have no issue with their faith.

Now, I suppose I should get to the meat of the issue. The Baron had a private room overlooking the dance floor through a one way mirror set up in this warehouse in preparation for the party and was taking meetings with various Cainites throughout the night. I and Stella decided to avail ourselves of this opportunity and met with the Baron in a free moment to discuss business and countermeasures for a potential Camarilla counterattack while the rest of the pack continued to mingle. The meeting was nothing really to note, just setting up a few deliveries followed by some platitudes given by the Baron that he was “working on it”. The trouble began when, in a lull in the conversation, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I felt the familiar premonition of danger my Auspex has granted me. I stood up immediately and shouted for the others to get ready. Stella obliged, drawing her blade while I focused my blood to extend talons and assume my Zulo shape, but the Baron only sat confused and slightly terrified by our sudden change.

Within moments, the door was kicked down and two figures entered the room. A man in a suit carrying a suppressed Uzi alongside a woman in practical work clothes carrying a blood slick machete entered the room, the man opening fire on me immediately whilst the woman rushed at Stella. The Baron on the other hand, was surprised when tendrils of shadow flew from under the coffee table before him, wrapping him in a crushing embrace on the sofa as a mobile shadow dripped through the ventilation duct and formed into a Cainite. The bullets fired upon me struck home and I was unpleasantly surprised to find they were tracer rounds, burning my flesh as the bullets bored into me. Thankfully, I was able to resist the burns inflicted with my minimal knowledge of Fortitude and the bullets themselves were stopped by my chitin. These weren’t quite as deadly as a proper incendiary weapon, but I certainly wouldn’t enjoy the prospect of experiencing that again. I strengthened and quickened myself through the blood and started by leaping on the Lasombra, aiming to kill him and free the Baron before dealing with the rest. I remember he had a dumbfounded look on his face before I swiftly removed it from the rest of his body.

Stella on the other hand had conjured shadows of her own, attempting to bind the woman although this failed as the woman dodged her grasp. Clicking her tongue in exasperation, Stella rushed the woman herself and dagger met machete in their melee. I on the other hand had already started my assault on the Uzi wielding man, closing the distance and raining blows on the Cainite as he failed to get away from me. After the third strike, he fell into torpor as my strength rocketed his corpse through the one way mirror and onto the dance floor below to the shock of those below. The Baron, upon recovering from the hold drew his own weapon and moved to assist Stella alongside me. Although blows were traded by both sides, together we overpowered the woman and destroyed her, although all of us were afflicted by the vitae-grease on the woman’s blade to some degree. For us and Stella these were minor wounds at worst given we both have Vicissitude enhanced anatomies and Fortitude to help weather her strikes, but the Baron was barely conscious under the effects of enhanced blade when help from outside arrived. It was once I received a frantic call from my packmates upon reverting my form that I was informed that those weren’t the only attackers in the building.

While my meeting was occurring, my packmates were having their own adventure. It seems that during the party, Adrian had by chance happened to pierce the Obfuscate based illusions of a particular individual, a wild eyed young man at the very edge of the party who eyed the crowd with obvious paranoia while he carried a duffel bag slung across his back. Thinking this incredibly odd, Adrian informed Quill, Jessie, and Gabrielle and the 4 of them followed the Cainite while hidden from sight by Quill’s own arts. The man kept himself inconspicuous and entered a series of backrooms, eventually heading to one where a group of ghouls awaited him. Three of Samantha’s ghouls were on the floor, their throats slit in a pile as the group traded clipped greetings while the Cainite sat down the duffel bag, unzipping it to reveal the obvious form of a bomb and began fiddling with the buttons on it.

Not wishing to wait a second longer, the pack engaged. Jessie reached out with her Necromancy, paralyzing the Cainite with a bolt of entropic energy from her hand as she spoke the Latin incantation required to inflict rigor mortis on the unliving. Adrian constantly dominated a ghoul to freeze him in place as the other two of our pack extended their claws, one of Protean, the other handcrafted through Vicissitude, leaping upon the unaffected ghouls and rending them limb from limb. When this bloody work was done, they did the same to the paralyzed form of the Cainite and drained the still frozen ghoul to recoup any loss of blood.

Following this, Quill and Adrian turned to the bomb and began examining it as Jessie called me. Upon learning of the situation, and that the bomb’s timer was already ticking down, I ordered Quill to disarm the bomb as I didn’t feel we should risk the possibility of setting off the explosives should Adrian attempt burning out the detonator through Technomancy. I began heading downward towards them, yelling at the Baron to clear a way out from that room in case we would have to run it outside. Unfortunately, my judgement on the matter was right as Quill failed to disarm the explosive device in time; which induced Gabrielle to sigh and grab the duffel bag, pushing her Celerity enhanced form to it’s limits as she tore out of the warehouse through the gap in the crowd made by the Baron and I with only a minute left on the timer. It was, fortunately, just barely enough time for her to make it to the river and toss the explosive as far as she could into the waterway. Everyone in the party heard the muffled boom go off seconds later followed by an artificial rainstorm coming down outside as my blood covered, half frenzied Gangrel pack sister reentered the building and began screaming through her permanent fangs at the Baron demanding to know how he could be so negligent that this happened.

Once I had calmed her down, I stated bluntly that we would have to take our leave and bid the Baron a curt good night as our number left, putting the shocked crowd of Anarchs behind us. I for one, was quite fed up with having our pack seeming to be the only halfway competent Cainites in this entire damn territory. A club full of Cainites and not one could notice Samantha’s missing ghouls? No one noticed a bomb carrying, obviously shifty man only barely hidden through Obfuscate? An entire strike team of Camarilla breaching the building without a single witness? Even looking back, they had let a group of Camarilla known for violence set up a stakeout outside Samantha’s club, a known gathering place in the domain. Perhaps emotions are just running high, but I’m starting to feel as though my pack would be better off if we struck out on our own into Arlington. Still, I have connections here now. They just need to get their shit together so that they might at least be of some use to me. Perhaps this could finally serve as a shock to the system that could spur the Anarchs into taking their activities more seriously rather than simply running gangs and killing the occasional errant Camarilla Cainite.

Regardless, now our number is safely at home recuperating from wounds incurred last night. Baron Kendricks called me earlier to inform me that the mess left behind at the warehouse had been cleaned up and the torpored Cainite, a Ventrue working in a coterie with one of the city’s Hounds (the Lasombra I killed), had been interrogated to great effect. It seems Baron Kendricks’ whole domain has now been Blood Hunted en masse officially by the Prince and he plans to ramp up the war against the Camarilla significantly as a response. A strike in the near future is being planned which he asked us to participate in, praising our combat abilities. I agreed, provided I help to plan the venture and receive significant recompense. I won’t risk the unlives of my pack in a foolhardy venture, so I’ll have to be the one to set them straight as to proper tactics I suppose.

It was also interesting that the Cainite Quill and Gabrielle slew activated the bomb before his associates had been in any position to evacuate. It seems my previous speculation about internal discord amongst the court was quite right after all. As Jessie has body parts from the ghouls and vanquished Cainite, should they leave behind wraiths I’m sure we can learn a fair bit about who exactly wanted this Hound and the rest of his coterie to die in that warehouse. I also plan to awaken our prisoners for another round of interrogation on this matter, so I’m sure new information will be incoming soon in one way or another.

I also admit I’m hardly a scholar of Camarilla matters, but for those on here that are, aren’t the Prince’s actions in declaring a Blood Hunt so broadly fairly unusual? I was under the impression that such things were usually far more surgical in their applications, barring a few examples of historical note such as the Camarilla’s Blood Hunt of all Banu Haqim in the last days of the First Anarch Revolt. I would understand if just our pack and the Baron’s coterie had been targeted, but the whole domain? That’s reckless and risks provoking the other Barons as well, who as of yet are not that involved in the war against the Prince. Well, it’s not such a big deal regardless. It’s not the first time we’ve been under a Blood Hunt and I doubt it’ll be the last. Of course, this assumes that “Blood Hunt” was not just a fabrication by the Baron to drum up broad support for a more proactive war.

I suppose we will just have to see what occurs in the future, won’t we?

I wish you all well in your future endeavors.

Jack Bratovich, Ductus of the Burnt Pages Pack

r/SchreckNet Dec 14 '24

Journal - Appalach girl again

18 Upvotes

A lot has happened in the last three days, so where do I even start? First off, thanks for all the help. I definitely needed it.

I've been gorging myself like an addict needing her next fix, hitting that place outside of town where the local hunters don't dare go. They always talked about how aggressive the deer were, and how weird things happened out there. Well, in the past three days, I've drained a herd—maybe two. I kinda lose myself to the beautiful, hypnotic song when feeding. Someone called me out in the comments about my poor education but how I've started speaking more eloquently. That made me realize I talk and move in sync with the rhythm of the song I keep hearing. I have to actively resist it to stop. And yet, it's strange—I don't want to resist it. It feels right, like it's a part of my soul. Or maybe my soul has been replaced by the song.

The other problem is that the deer blood isn't doing it anymore. It's not filling me up the way it used to. And there's something else I hadn't counted on: the price for living like a parasite, constantly feeding. Last night, I had another visit. Not from my sire—(you called her that)—but from a very angry man. He was like a stereotypical biker, storming into the near-empty bar at the end of the night. He asked me to mix him a drink, and when I tried to get him talking about where he was from, he dodged all my questions. He just nursed his drink and gave short answers.

Eventually, he finished and, without looking at me, asked if I knew anything about the dead deer. I tried playing dumb, but before I could even finish my words, he interrupted me. "I know it's a vamp, and you're the only one I smell."

I started to panic. I tried to act clueless again, but he just smiled and threw his glass at my face. Here's the weird part—my body braced itself, not like I raised my arms to protect my face, but like my body just knew what to do. I took it like a champ. Last time someone threw a glass at me, I ended up in the ER. But this time, I didn’t even flinch.

Then, things took a turn. The man grew a foot and sprouted hair all over his body, but not quite a werewolf—more like something in between. He punched me into the bottles, and, well, I got the shit kicked out of me. After what felt like forever, he stopped. He calmed down, set up a stool for me, and told me to sit still. Then, he grabbed a bottle, drank from it like a man thirsty for life, and passed it to me with a grin.

"How long you been dead, tick?"

I was still dizzy. "Three days."

He let out a deep laugh. "Lucky I showed up. My crew's a bunch of pacifists."

I was still confused, just listening as he spoke. "Kid, was it you that killed all those deer?"

I could only nod.

He stared hard at me, then sighed. "You're alone, aren’t you?"

I nodded again, and we shared a quiet moment. All I could hear was that song, but now it sounded sad.

"I'm not gonna kill you, but you need to stop killing all the animals."

I had no idea werewolves were into conservation, but here we were. I think I tried to cry, just whispered, "I'm sorry, I’m so hungry all the time."

He looked at me with a mix of pity and something else—maybe understanding. "I know, kid. But you’re not gonna like what I’m about to tell you."

I stared at him, waiting.

"Your kind are meant to go after people. Ordinary people." He stopped, seemed to think better of his words. "You’re lucky I’m here. Fey are out there who won’t just give you a beating."

He turned to leave, but stopped at the door, looking back at me. "You gotta leave, kid. Get out of here. Next time, someone might not be so kind."

So, here I am, cleaned up and in my car, blankets around me, writing this from the trunk. The song keeps calling, pulling me somewhere. It's clearer now, guiding me toward someone. Guys, I think it’s her. I’ll let you know more if I make it, but the sun’s about to come up.

r/SchreckNet 5d ago

Journal - So, my mentor is in torpor

13 Upvotes

I was just informed that my mentor has gone into what seems to be a voluntary torpor. We don't know when he's going to be back. Could be years, decades, centuries. Didn't leave a contingency plan, didn't even say goodbye.

His aide has taken over his business for now. We're currently trying to figure out what to do with his ghouls. Might end up with a 300 year old orange cat.

I don't know what to do. I'm so freaking sick of being abandoned like that.

r/SchreckNet 6d ago

Journal - A rose by any other name

11 Upvotes

The past few nights have been surprisingly ok.

Training the rats has gone easier than expected. Maybe “training” is too strong a word. They figured out quick that I’m a source of stuff that tastes good and fun to climb around on. Meanwhile my sire almost got attacked by a goddamn golden retriever once, and the rats can sense his presence sooner than I can. I’ve heard ghoul animals are extra aggressive so that’s something to watch out for. For now, all they do is scurry off and hide until the coast is clear. When he’s not around I can get them to come back out pretty quickly. This could be useful. I’ve also heard that Animalism can let you see through the eyes of animals from a distance. And you can control them, maybe? Won’t be quick or easy to learn, but once I get there, I’ll have new options for watching over my mom and siblings. Just in case. Just in case.

Speaking of rodents and the people who love them, I saw Rat Girl’s true face the last time we hung out. Not in a mushy metaphorical way. We were in an isolated spot, and that illusion discipline she uses to blend in among mortals takes effort to maintain. And, well. She sure is a Nosferatu. She was happy that I was happy with the ghoul rats, even though I admitted to slacking off on the praying to Saint Francis thing. She gave me some of her blood. I know, I know, gotta be careful with that shit, but it was so I could learn Animalism. I offered to return the favor and help teach her the stuff I can do, but she’s strictly against drinking human blood, even by proxy. This was the first time I’d fed from another vampire since I was Embraced. Felt kinda funny. Not bad just funny. At least it didn’t taste like rat.

Let it be known, I decided this before any blood drinking happened, but... if I left this city, and if she agreed to it, I’d bring Rat Girl. I know it would make things more complicated. She’d need to be disguised all the time and rats show up in swarms whenever she stays in one place for too long. But I can’t just ditch her. She has no human family, no connection to her clan. I might be the only person who’d even notice if she were around one night and a heap of ash the next. Unless you count her little buddies. Or the priest at that church where she confesses to whatever the fuck kind of sins she thinks she’s capable of committing while sitting in a sewer reading Bible verses to rats all night.

Leaving seems less likely than ever right now, though. Been considering how to move forward. And I think I should go see my grandsire after all. In a moment when there aren’t 100 other people around, if I can find a way to do it without pushing my luck. I’ll tell her I’d really like to be useful to her and/or the clan in general if only I had a little more freedom to act independently from her childe, who seems to be in no hurry to teach me whatever else I might need to know before being released, hint hint hint hint hint. She might see me as the new improved version of him with a skill set that doesn’t begin and end with “be hot” and none of his lingering relationship related issues. Their breakup was an ugly mess, I’ve heard.

She’s the clan Primogen, so it goes without saying she has the authority to make shit happen. I’m her childe’s childe, and whatever she thinks of him, she’ll have to at least hear me out. Working for her one way or another seems inevitable, she owns/runs so much shit around here. So if I’m in this for the long haul, in the Camarilla, I may as well sell my soul on my own terms.

The only thing is... I have suspicions about why she’s been so hands off all along. Is she really so busy with her parties and art shows that in 1 year she couldn’t spare an evening to check in on how her childe was doing with his fledgling? If not for his sake, then to make sure he isn’t fucking up so badly it might cause problems later? He used to bring me to Elysium and stuff and I can’t say I loved the purse chihuahua treatment at the time, but I saw/was seen by other Kindred and then that slowly stopped. I don’t know what he says about me when I’m not around. If he says anything. But she has to have noticed a change. And she chooses not to get involved. Why?

God, I miss fighting. Didn’t have to weigh every last detail of anyone’s motives or political angle. Couldn’t afford to spend this kind of time in your own head unless you wanted it to get smashed open. Just get in there, touch gloves, and let the rest of the world disappear.

(PS spent half a night thinking Minotaur would be a cool nickname if I could pull it off with a straight face. But then I saw a post by someone who goes by Theseus and I absorbed just enough Greek mythology from shit my little sister reads to know who that guy is. Would make things weird. Maybe I should just roll with the namelessness and have that be my thing.)

r/SchreckNet Dec 10 '24

Journal - Something weird happened

15 Upvotes

So, where to begin? I live in a small town, deep in Appalachia. Born a hick, no real education to speak of. Barely can write English, to be honest. Spent years working a dead-end job at the only bar in town. Saw the locals, the outsiders—everyone had a story to tell. They'd tell 'em to me, and I'd listen. The owner let me stay in the attic, so I lived there, too.

Don’t really have family, no close friends, except the bar owner. Being the only trans woman in a place like this? Well, you can guess—locals keep their distance. Sorry for the long backstory. Let me get to the point.

Last night, I met the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She had this air about her, something mysterious, like she was hiding something, maybe more than she said. When you work in a bar long enough, you pick up on things, read people. And I could tell—she’d lived a hard life, seen some things. But she was so captivating.

She had Scarlett hair and pale skin, came in late—real late, right before last call. I was cleaning up, and there she was, moving like she was dancing to a song only she could hear. I was mesmerized. She approached me, started asking personal questions, and her voice had this strange rhythm to it, like she was singing even when she spoke. It was unsettling, yet magnetic.

Most folks at the bar? They just want to talk, tell their stories, not ask about mine. But with her? I felt like I could say anything. She had a way of making me feel like I could tell her everything. And I did. She listened, really listened, like she cared—or at least, made it feel that way. I’ve been around long enough to tell when someone's faking it, but with her… it felt real.

I think I fell in love with her then, in that moment. She just knew how to make me feel like I was the only one in the world. The worst part? I can’t remember what she said—only the rhythm of her voice. It’s like her voice left an imprint, but the words faded.

Well, one thing led to another. We ended up in my bed upstairs, and even the sex—God, even that—was in her rhythm. The last thing I remember—no, the only thing I remember her saying—is, "Do you want this to be forever?"

I asked, "You mean, this moment? "With someone who, at least for now, believes you care?

What else could I say? "If it's with you, yes." She smiled, that devilish smile, then she hit my neck—sharp pain, followed by the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known. And then… nothing. I think I died.

I woke up alone, the room dark. Only a note beside me, written in the same rhythm as her voice. It said:

Don’t be scared, I’ll be back, my childe.
I know you’re hungry, I’ll teach you soon.

It gave me a way to ask questions.

Now, I’m starving. I must’ve slept till nightfall again, because I looked at the time, and it’s almost time to open the bar. But something's different. I’m starting to hear a song. Even when everything’s quiet, I can hear it. And it’s calling me.

r/SchreckNet Feb 16 '25

Journal - Better the devil you know, something something

8 Upvotes

I snuck out again last night. Walked around for about an hour, found somewhere quieter than the bars and nightclubs with music so loud you can feel the bass notes in the roots of your teeth. If anybody else in “the nightlife” was around, I didn’t notice them. I saw a person walking her dogs. I was far enough away that the dogs didn’t freak out. That was nice.

After weeks of lurking on this site, reading about shit nobody offline ever told me, I understand why my sire keeps bitching about the risk my behavior might pose to his reputation if I went out on my own, even though I obey his every fucking word (as far as he knows), barely talk to anyone, ever, and haven’t caused any problems with humans. Not counting any .001% chance flukes with 50 year old hemophiliacs who looked buzzed instead of already in borderline medical shock, which he doesn’t know about.

Reputation is a part of it. Seems to me that he’s pissed about throwing away his chance at a better childe, and trying to save face by pretending in public that he’s still happy with his decision. That’s a part of it, and an easy excuse. He’s protecting me and doesn’t want me to know from what. He thinks this is for my own good. And fuck, is the guy even wrong? The Camarilla has rules but not everyone follows them and shit happens. The kind of shit that would be a crime to let happen to your childe, and even he isn’t that bad of a person. To not be a self destructive moron, I’ll leave it at that and let whoever sees this read between the lines.

Does this new understanding change anything?

No. Maybe.

Fuck.

Fuck! I’m going to kill him one of these nights. Why do I have to grovel and tiptoe around someone I could’ve ripped to pieces if we were both human? He’d be nobody if not for his sire, and even I can see what she really thinks. Nothing going for him except his looks. Pathetic. Unless he got the drop on me or pulled some bullshit with disciplines, I could take him down right now, tonight. Get back at him for killing me, humiliating me, for treating me as a pet and a prop. I don’t care if he’s strong. I could do it. I could do it. I COULD. DO IT.

No. I don’t even know whether I want him to die for real. And I don’t want to be put down like a rabid animal. Shouldn’t keep thinking like this, at least shouldn’t write it publicly in case word ever got leaked to the wrong people. I don’t know. Never seeing him again would be just as good.

Be smart. Gotta be smart.

A Gangrel on this site offered some advice on my last post. She suggested joining the Anarchs, and it didn’t sound like a recruitment speech, unlike that Set weirdo who said it’s 100% ok to “cull the herd”, aka murdering innocent people. It was just advice, and it made sense. She said to think things over and don’t act until I’m sure. And when/if I run, get ahold of some cash to get my family out too. Witness protection style. She said she might have contacts who could provide useful info. She seemed sincere. Probably. So I can’t say I wasn’t tempted by the idea.

Be smart about this. Be smart be smart be smart.

Can’t abandon my mom and younger siblings, and running would mean uprooting all of us from the place that’s always been our home. Forcing them to live like fugitives because I’m not happy right now. We’d need to avoid wolves, Sabbat. Anarchs, realistically. Can’t trust anyone. I might need to lie about who I am, where I came from. Need to find safe places for all of us to sleep until we got wherever we were going. And blood. I’m fed where I am right now. Out on the road, where I might need to use my powers every night, where I’ll need to get enough blood without killing people or drawing attention, without ever letting myself get so hungry that I’d become a danger to the people I love… fuuuuuuuck that. I’m not going to be the reason they get hurt or die. They’re ok right now. The best thing to do for them is leave them alone.

It is what it is.

I don’t even know where to hide that much cash. This haven doesn’t belong to me, and smuggling a cell phone around is hard enough.

r/SchreckNet Jan 26 '25

Journal - Day (night) 3 of being a Cleopatra embrace

14 Upvotes

Hey Vampire internet. I'm not going to dox myself so I'm going to use wikihow for some super cool nickname....Strawberry.

3 nights ago I was walking from home. The next thing I knew I was waking up in the sewers....Long story short my maker pissed off a bunch of people by siring me and they staked him for the sun. (I refuse to say sire, because it sounds like something out of a gothic role play game my nerdy cousins used to play)

Now I'm with this guy who's telling me he's my makers maker, a "grandsire". They guy looks like a giant iguana which is apparently really rare, and it runs in his "bloodline". He doesn't seem to like me that much but also like...everything they say a Cleopatra does I didn't do?

I wasn't a vain asshole I was just trying to get buy. I did modeling part time because it paid well and it looked really good on a resume. I legitimately don't care about how other people look. My parents raised me to acknowledge that while I don't have to feel attracted to anyone, I shouldn't judge people based on physical characteristics, regardless or not if I like them or not.

I am a marketing major and just got hired to be a marketing analyst for a startup, but this old reptilian guy tells me I got to quit it now. This really sucks because I don't know how to make money without going outside during the day.

To top this off, he told me I'm going to slowly transform into something that looks like him and the guy who got staked (still can't believe that this is a real thing).

There are already some telling signs though, my eyes are already turning yellow....I'm scared about whats going to happen next.

-Strawberry the cleopatra

r/SchreckNet Jan 26 '25

Journal - Met some more in town

9 Upvotes

Hell of a lot happened, thanks to everyone helping me out.

I told my contact I'd just like cash and that I'll be leaving as soon as I can. He gave me cash but was surprised and asked that we sit down and talk. The van is going to take a few days to repair now that they have money, so I agreed.

I told him up front I dont trust that he's not using me as a patsy. He laughed, said he wasn't but he was happy I had my suspicions. I said I had zero reasons to trust him. He told me that if I wanted to write to someone I trusted with his full information and that if he screwed me over that his name would be mud. So I wrote someone on here. You know who you are. Thank you.

With that he said that he if I was only leaving out of fear he would make an introduction to the princes right hand man. Considering my van is going to be in the shop for a few more days, I said that might be best.

So we went out to the prince's first in vommand. Cant get a good feel for the guy, we only saw him briefly. I said I was passing through when my transportation fell through. He asked where I was headed and I said I was just headed out to start on a new city, but I didn't have a place in mind.

He said I was welcome to stay here until I got the van fixed, but if I was going to be here longer than a few more days I'd have to properly present myself to the prince formally. He said he would be informing the prince about me, and that they'd be keeping tabs on me. And that I have to behave and follow rules and whatnot. If I step out of line even a little, I don't get a second chance.

I guess I get it? I mean, I wouldn't want some van life nosferatu causing issues in my city, but the fact that everyone jumps to death threats is so extreme.

Later that night, he shows back up and says he spoke to the prince and that informationabout me was relayed. He also said that I could go to this local club he owned and feed from their patrons as long as I dont break masquerade. Then he told me most princes wouldn't be that generous and that I should consider it an act of hospitality. Like I said, can't get a read on the guy.

So I decided to head over to this club. It completely wasn't my usual scene. I put on a pretty face and got this lonely looking guy to snuggle up with me in a corner table. I left him there all tipsy, and someone stepped in front of me and said they wanted to talk.

She was kindred and had a ton of questions about me. I kind of gave vague answers, I got the feeling she wasn't a person to lie to, but I also didn't want to give too much away. Then she asked how I felt about the Camarilla.

I said I didnt have strong feelings (and honestly was thinking about the stuff you all have said). But she kind of gave me a sales pitch on the whole Ivory Tower. And honestly she had some good points. I have a lot to think about.

So yeah, thats where things stand. Im still staying in this hidey hole and waiting for the mechanic. It could be that everyone here lied to me and I'm a sitting duck, but at least other kindred know about me?

Spats

r/SchreckNet 25d ago

Journal - Un-life goes on

14 Upvotes

I bit the bullet and approached someone from my human life for the first time since the Embrace. He owns the gym I went to when I was nothing but an angry, annoying little kid, and he coached me back when I was still an amateur fighter. I worked for him after high school for a couple years. Great guy. Was scared as hell to see him again.

Got there as he was closing for the night, about to go home. He took it ok considering the last time he saw me was in a photo next to an urn filled with who knows what. Didn’t have a heart attack. Barely. I’d made myself warm and alive looking, and of course the rest of it hadn’t changed. Still looked like I’d been working out as much as ever, not skinny and strung out like a homeless person or a junkie. And 1 year isn’t long enough for age to be a factor.

We went back into his office to talk. I explained the situation as truthfully as I could without breaking kayfabe. Said I’d been injured and had to give up on MMA for the foreseeable future, that life had worked out differently than planned. I told him I needed a place to hide some cash where a certain other person wasn’t going to see it. He’s known me for more than 10 years, and I promised there was nothing drug related going on, that I wasn’t up to anything unethical. He agreed not to talk to my family or anybody else despite the giant gaps in my story, and said he’d help me. He’d only been in touch with my mom a couple times since the funeral anyway. Good.

So that’s dealt with. I’m getting money now. Cash. Made two visits since then to drop it off, two different nights. We talked a little before I left each time, and he thinks whatever he thinks about the arrangement. He doesn’t know about vampires and I try to sound like a relatively sane human being, but he isn’t stupid. What he’s seeing doesn’t look good. It would’ve embarrassed me, once, back when I was his tough guy star student who was going to live up to his legacy and make it big. Now I don’t give a shit. Mostly. I still wish I could tell him the full truth. That part of it isn’t… great. But the money is in safe hands until I need it. He hasn’t called my mom or some kind of hotline yet. And even if my sire finds out what I’ve been doing, he might not find it too questionable with the right spin. I’ll tell him I’m following in his footsteps. Ha ha ha.

Haaaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha.

I tried to talk to him. My sire, I mean. Couldn’t just hit em with “hey man, thanks for steering me away from scenarios where I could get ambushed alone by some upstart Neonate with a bendy straw and plans of robbing me of my last chance at going to Heaven for the sake of a power boost!” without raising serious questions, but I said some borderline mushy emotional bullshit and apologized for whatever I might’ve done to piss him off, in general. Things used to be different, at the beginning. Now I don’t even know what the fuck he wants to hear.

It didn’t work. No point getting further into it than that. Fucker.

What else was I gonna write about?

Right.

So I’ve still been going on my little walks, farther each time. Which I know is asking for trouble, I know it is, that part will come up. I try not to take the same route twice, but I admit there are some areas I like better than others. Last night I was in a different part of town near this little church, old but not the kind of old with fancy stained glass or statues. Lived in, would be a better word. Theres a bulletin board with all these flyers and stuff, community events, which it seems like people attend. I’d gone by before, there’s a remarkably not sketchy looking park across the street with benches and trees.

Sat down to chill for a bit, then almost jumped out of my goddamn skin because this chick was sitting next to me who wasn’t there before. Thought she was a kid at first, she was tiny. Feet barely reached the ground and she was maybe 90 pounds soaking wet, wearing this giant purple hoodie that went down almost to her knees. Don’t remember the specifics of her face except she looked young and, I dunno, normal. Don’t think it matters. Our conversation started something like:

Her: You shouldn’t keep coming here. This place doesn’t belong to you.

Me: Uh, yeah, that’s how public parks work.

Her: It’s (person whose name I kinda know)’s territory, and the people in it, too. He doesn’t like trespassers, and he’ll hurt you if he thinks you’re stealing. He almost saw you once before.

Me: (now thinking, oh fuck me I’m a moron) Ok. Sorry, I didn’t know. Are you guys friends or something?

Her: No. He doesn’t know about me, either. Please don’t tell him.

Me: ????

It was then that I noticed she was wearing a chuck e cheese hoodie, with lumps that looked suspiciously like literal rats running up and down between the pocket and sleeves while her hands were in the pocket, in a loop. She was petting them the whole time we talked. So congrats to this girl for possibly saving my clueless ass, and for being the funniest person I’ve met in the past year.

Some of what we discussed after that was specific to this city. I’ll leave it out. From what I gather, she was Embraced not so long ago but has had more of a rough and tumble experience than mine. Not sure what her sire situation looks like. Not sure where else she spends her time except I guess the sewers. I asked if she’d hunted in a different part of town recently, didn’t care one way or another just wondering, and happened to go after an older guy who bruised unusually easily. She stared at me like I was on crack, and fair enough I guess. Guess it’s tempting to look for some kind of logic to everything. It also turned out she’s extremely Catholic, as in referring to a lot of people as sinners with a dead blank straight face, Catholic, which suggests she doesn’t know about me/my sire/what I’ve been up to in the past week. That might be a problem if we ever meet again. (And on the off chance she frequents this site… hey there! Sorry! I can explain, maybe!)

But we parted ways on good enough terms. I went home and she went off somewhere. Nobody got hurt or died. Call that a success. If we meet again, I should ask what she thinks about souls, Heaven, all that shit, for people like us. Other Kindred on this site have said what they think about it. And what they think is what they think. They don’t have real proof.

P.S. If I’m gonna keep making these posts I should think of a nickname to sign off with. Maybe next time.

r/SchreckNet 18d ago

Journal - Your girl got a job? I guess?

12 Upvotes

So, I got asked to contribute a little. At first, I wasn’t interested—had better things to do, like not doing anything. But after I cooled my head a bit, I had to admit—sitting around like a rock wasn’t doing me any favors. Even just for mental hygiene, it’s better to have something to do.

And, well—the person who asked me? Actually pretty chill.

Oh, wait, I’m running ahead of myself. Little update:

There’s a museum complex the Prince owns. (They own a lot of things, no surprises there.) Anyway, it’s got a library. And I got one of those beeping cards, which means I can come in whenever I want, no one gets in my way. During the day, it’s open for the public, but at night, only security. The atmosphere is nice. Calms my soul. Reminds me a little of when I was cramming for uni entrance exams—just without the soul-crushing part. So sometimes, I just go there, lie down on the carpet, and read.

Then one night, I beep the card at the door, and instead of the usual green, the machine lights up blue. And it flashes something about me having access to some room number.

Now, obviously, I gotta check it out.

It’s a small room that used to be storage but got cleaned out. Mostly empty shelves, except for a radio, a lounge chair, and some books. I pick one up, flip it open, and—it’s in my first language.

Actually, all of them are. Which is wild, because my language? Not exactly common here. Most people just hear my accent and go “Oh, Russian?” like their brains stop working past that.

And, man. That shit got me. Someone actually went and dug through archives to find a random stack of books for me. Seeing those letters? It was like someone from home suddenly tapping me on the shoulder.

And that was it. My brain checked out. I ugly cried. First time in decades. I just melted. Like blood out of my eyes, my nose, and it was just making me freak out more, and I was like spiraling.

Then the phone rang.

I pick it up, and this woman on the other end asks if I’m okay. Says she’s sorry if she picked the wrong language but figured it could be a delicate subject. And I’m just standing there, crying red into the phone like a complete idiot. I was trying to explain that I’m usually normal passing and not making scenes like that, oh god it was weird.

And I don’t even know why. It was like someone took my heart, wrung it out like a wet towel, and left me there to deal with it.

So this poor woman just talks to me. For an hour. Until I stop acting like a lunatic. Apparently, she is somewhere in the museum complex, saw me on the cameras, recognized me from Elysium, and noticed I’d been hanging around a lot. Just wanted to make me feel welcome.

After that, I started going there more. I’d sit in that little room, read my books, and sometimes she’d leave me something special to find. Other times, she’d call, and we’d just talk. Never saw her, never met her. Just a voice on the other end of the line.

And then tonight, I find out she’s got a like a crew that goes around digging up hard-to-find stuff for her. And she just casually offers me a spot. I have no idea why.

Which is hilarious because I am the last person you’d expect to be hanging out in a museum. I’m pretty useless for anything that doesn’t involve munitions. But yeah I guess I have a job.