Your mother was a doctor, as was her father before her. You learned the Hippocratic Oath before you could recite the Pledge of Allegiance. You graduated from med school at the top of your class and soon gained recognition as a brilliant and devoted young surgeon.

The work, rewarding as it was, was not without stress. Incessant pressure placed on you by your family and peers onlde things worse. For relief, you turned to drinking, gambling, and drugs. When the pipers finally came to be paid, you sold them your soul.

The mob provided you with lab facilities in a secret factory - a factory where porn flicks were made. But these weren't just any porn flicks. The stars of these films were freaks - artificial, sugically-altered freaks. It was your job to sculpt the "actors" - kidnapped junkies, vagrants, and runaway teenagers - for the wealthy clientele's delight.

They would have killed you if you refused, and that would have violated your Hippocratic Oath. So, robotlike, you did the work, and eventually you were able to sleep through the screams and wails and gurgles that arose from the growing menagerie in the subbasement.

Time became a crawling blur, so you don't remember the exact night the intruders shot and hacked their way into the lab. Your bosses were messily executed, and you figured you'd be next. One of the intruders, gazing in rhapsody at your caged creations, asked if you were responsible for them. Hoping for the peace of a death sentence, you admitted you were. Instead, he gave you an undeath sentence. Now you serve the Sabbat.