You grew up with the Sabbat as a Zantosa revenant. To you, torture sessions were as normal as Nickelodeon, and you ate human meat as often as Beenee-Weenees. You lived in the backwoods, where your family performed occasional scouting missions for the vampires you served.

Your cousins always idolized the Lasombra, with their spiffy city clothes and their flashy cars, but you knew where the real power lay. Accordingly, when a lone Tzimisce staggered into your family's homestead with a pack of Camarilla Archons on his tail, you knew what to do. Using your natural charm and superior knowledge of the terrain, you lured the Archons into traps and staked them one by one. Then, you invited your Sabbat guest to dinner.

In gratitude, he Embraced you that night. He took you away to the big city, where you bought spiffy city clothes of your own (or took them from the corpses of Ventrue ghouls.) You were natural Sabbat and were eventually given charge of your own nomadic pack. Now your pack and ghouls migrate from Camarilla city to Camarilla city in the guise of a travelling freak show, reconnoitering and fomenting dissent.