Kindred is a term designated to the vampiric race as a whole, or it may refer to only a single vampire.

It is most commonly used by members of the Camarilla who strive to maintain their Humanity – and this is especially true to secularists and party-line loyalists who reject the myth of Caine as the First Vampire. They will often use the expression "Kindred and kine" to refer to all the people of the world.

Sabbat vampires scorn the term as an affectation of feigned camaraderie and humanity, preferring the word "Cainite" instead. Other vampires who do not believe they are descended from Caine, such as the Laibon and many Assamites and Setites, likewise object to the term.

Despite this controversy, Camarilla vampires often employ the term "Kindred" to other vampiric beings, even the Kuei-jin.


Most of the liquids in a vampire's body are replaced by blood
– Kindred sweat and cry vitae. Other fluids remain fairly true
to their original form. Vampires do possess "normal" saliva,
otherwise their mouths would be a bloody mess. Likewise,
the vitreous and aqueous humors in vampires' eyeballs aren't
replaced by blood, or their eyes would be red instead of
white. Other than these few examples, common sense
applies. Vampires obviously do not have reproductive fluids,
and when female vampires spend a blood point to engage in
sexual acts, their lubrication is a thin blood.


As static, timeless creatures, vampires return as closely to
the state in which they were Embraced as possible. A simple
mechanic involves considering how many health levels of
damage a character sustained for a given change. If the
change cause no appreciable damage – shaving, cutting
one's hair, piercing a body part, getting a tattoo – the
vampire's body eliminates the change during the day. Hair
grows back (let your childe shave before you Embrace
him…), piercings push themselves out, tattoo ink rises to the
skin's surface, etc.

If the change is appreciable enough to do health levels of
damage (see limb loss, above, for example), the vampire
reverts to her original form once healed.

Aggravated damage, even when healed, almost always
leaves a telling scar.

In Seattle

Prince Andrew Fitzwallace, a Ventrue of the Invictus,
broods over the ruin of an undead domain that was once a
shining city known all across North America for its stability,
the security of its borders, and the wealth of its vampiric
inhabitants. Built by centuries of careful parasitism, taking
just enough from the humans, the city was undone by five
nights of blood and madness.

The problem is that Prince Fitzwallace is certainly insane.
Despite a reputation for caution, traditionalism, and careful
planning built by centuries of making his way up through the
vampiric hierarchies of North America, something snapped
ten years ago. Prince Fitzwallace started to see enemies
behind every corner. Every human was a potential hunter or a
hunter’s dupe. Every vampire was either plotting against him
or in thrall to some terrible power.

Nobody blinked when Fitzwallace turned on his human
retainers. If the prince wanted to slaughter two thirds of his own
staff, after all, that was his own business. When Fitzwallace went
on to detain, interrogate, and eventually kill his own advisors,
the “municipal council” that had guided him for thirty years,
the vampires of Seattle started to mutter about revolution.
Fitzwallace’s response was swift and brutal. Over the course
of the next three nights, more than three-dozen Kindred were
destroyed or driven out of Seattle. Fitzwallace kept his throne,
but at a terrible cost.

Now, many of the scourges that Kindred organize to avoid —
smart and capable human hunters, antisocial vampires like VII
and Belial’s Brood, and even the Strix — have grown strong. The
vampires maintain only a tenuous hold on Seattle’s government
and sometimes struggle to avoid having their sanctums casually
violated by building inspectors or law enforcement.

The real power behind the throne is Fitzwallace’s “loyal”
enforcer, a Gangrel who pledges loyalty to the Invictus. Marion
Black has worked with Fitzwallace for long enough that she
can manipulate him easily, convincing him to give her the
“order” to eliminate anyone she views as a threat to her person
or position. No one knows why Marion allowed the situation
to degenerate to its current state. Seattle’s surviving Kindred
theorize that she is nothing more than a cruel opportunist
who sensed Fitzwallace’s madness and took advantage of it
to enhance her own power. Some even suspect that Marion
somehow engineered Fitzwallace’s madness, poisoning him with
some kind of blood sorcery or curse; alternately, she might have
helped him to conceal his madness all along, only unleashing
him when he was in a position to create a great deal of chaos.

Seattle’s vampires know that Fitzwallace maintains a
huge corps of spies and infiltrators who are constantly on
the lookout for threats. An atmosphere of deep paranoia
permeates the city. The Kindred move as though they expect
the executioner’s axe to descend on them at any moment.

Most of Seattle’s vampires do their best to avoid Fitzwallace
and the court altogether. They move through the mists in
packs, supporting each other to carve out a small measure of
the security and stability that most vampires enjoy thanks to
the efforts of the entire community. They base their alliances
on neighborhood, covenant, clan, or bloodline.

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