Dre's Introduction to Clan Brujah
The old man shifted slightly in his leather chair, picking a piece of imaginary lint from his white robe. "So, childe, do you not know what you are? Or is there truly justification for your blatant display of power?"
Dre stood stock still, unable to move at all. Every muscle cried out for release, and he felt the now-familiar fury building within himself. Still, he could do nothing.
"Oh, yes," the old man chuckled softly. He snapped his fingers. "Speak."
"Woof woof. I ain't no damn dog, you fat motherf...," Dre managed to squeeze out before he was silenced again.
"No, you are not a dog. You are something far worse - a vampire. But you know that already. What is more important, you are a Brujah. What do you think of that?"
Dre stood confused for a minute before answering. "Only Brujah I know are Mex bangers. Say their name means witch. I thought I was a vampire."
"My dear young man, our clan name long predates that lazy tongue. Indeed, they stole the term for their gifted individuals from us. We are the true Brujah. Descended from our sire, many generations removed. We carry the Brujah bloodline, and all it entails. Your great strength and speed are part of this. How did you become a vampire?"
"Some guy in leathers made a grab on me a few nights ago. Next thing I knew, I was lying in a sewer, with this burnin' in my stomach. Then..." Jimmy paused. His mindless rage on the winos still felt more like a dream to him.
"I know, I know. And after that, you found you were...more than human?"
"Damn right! I thought I'd see if I could find the guy who put the bite on me..."
"Smiling Jack is long gone, I'm afraid."
"Yeah, right. Then those bangers tried to roll up on me and I..."
"Fought back, using your full abilities. Unwise, childe. We live by a Masquerade."
"We? So besides this Smiling Jack and you, how many more of us are there?"
The old man paused. He idly picked up a small calculator and began punching numbers. As his fingers flew over the keys, he replied, "A whole society of us. Players in an eternal war - the Jyhad. You were to become an unwilling soldier."
He snatched up a piece of paper and pen, and scribbled some numbers off the calculator, all without looking at Dre. Nevertheless, he added, "Smiling Jack is a visitor to Chicago. He was passing through on his way back to Los Angeles, and decided to stir up some trouble for our clan. You Iconoclasts have always been trouble.
"Smiling Jack, and those he supports, believe no one should answer to princes or even other vampires. If you had gone on your way, displaying your powers indiscriminately, you would have caused chaos and perhaps violated the Masquerade. Chicago's prince of vampires would have had to deal with it, diverting his attention from more important matters. Such is the way some anarchs believe anarchy should be spread."
The old man paused for a minute before asking, "What do you know of Carthage?"
"It holds our bones together?" Dre responded.
The old man looked back up. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to be funny. Carthage was utopia. It is a living dream. Millenia ago, we Brujah created a city where Kindred and kine could live together. We strove for the heavens, only to see others grow jealous. They betrayed us and destroyed the dream. Now, we are divided, and have gone from being scholars and philosophers to cretins and clowns like your sire, Smiling Jack. Do you know what an Iconoclast is?"
Dre tried to keep still, but found himself slowly nodding. "Someone who destroys stuff other people worship or respect."
The old man stroked his beard and looked curiously at Dre. "Very good. Well, that is what Smiling Jack is. Many Brujah have become Iconoclasts, joining together only to destroy. Many younger Brujah are part of this faction, joining together only to tear something else apart.
"On the other hand, there are those Brujah like myself - Idealists. We see better times ahead, and work with all the force we can muster to bring it about. We have learned to work with the system to try and change it. We are generally the leaders of our clan, thought the Iconoclasts battle even us in their unthinking rage. You have felt the frenzy too, I believe."
Again Dre nodded. He remembered how he had felt when those Bloods had attacked him. Something had snapped in him when they pulled their weapons on him. He had dived into them, ripping and tearing until all that was left was a bloody pile.
"We have been cursed," the old man added softly. "All vampires fall prey to the bloodlust, but the Brujah most of all. All of our clan feel the fury more frequently. Some, like myself, have learned to suppress it. Most, however, have no control over it. When the Beast gets loose, it will not be denied."
He sat silently for a minute while Dre looked on.
"There exists a third group of Brujah. They are the misled, though they consider themselves to have the freedom to act responsibly, though this merely makes them the greater pawns.
"It is a great war we wage. The only rules are use or be used, kill or be killed. Find a strong ally, and you are strong. Stand alone, and die. Remember this lesson, for there are other clans of vampires who would prefer to see you dead.
"Fortunately, I became aware of your existence early on. I have my own reasons for making sure Chicago's prince remains concerned with the matters at hand. Fortunately for us both, for he would have taken great pleasure in destroying you. Do you understand?"
Dre frowned. "If what you're tellin' me is true, why are you being so generous?"
"Because you will be in my debt. Plus, I may be able to help you settle your score with Smiling Jack."
"So, you're gonna be my vampire massa? Teach me how to be a good little bloodsucker?"
"Gods forbid, no. I have far more pressing matters to deal with. However, I have a young friend, Damien, whom I believe should be able to provide you with the education you need. Just tell him Critias sent you."